My vision, though overlaid with vibrant, dancing hues, is quite perfect, and as I find myself amongst those I have come to call my family, one specific mare makes herself known to me. She is of the darkest ebony save the white lines coursing over her body and the colourless strips in her banner, and I fear that her mental state is as dark as her appearance. Nay, perhaps fear is too strong a word, for I have come to realize that the afflictions my kin suffer from are not weaknesses; if anything, our respective illnesses make us stronger. We have seen more, heard more, been through more than those without our so-called disorders; as a result, we have grown closer, knit by that which has outcast us from polite society, a closer family unit by far than even those linked by blood. Even Seele and I are closer without her knowing of the ties between us.

The vocals of my clan-sister rises above the various sounds of the marsh, a dull teal, a colour of sadness. Somewhere beneath a shattered soul lies a broken heart, though it may be dulled by years of feeling nothing. But then, perhaps I analyze my colours too closely. A wingless angel, she calls me, and I almost smile at the irony: an angel who brings death upon those who are undeserving - no, I am a demon, a cat amongst the pigeons, though I suppose I hide it well enough. Light blue flickers at the edges of my vision, but I ignore Liebling's appearance as much as I can, despite the sad, swaying motion that her light brings. It is not a day of sorrow; no, I can do good here, make up for my past sins, my mistakes.

"I am who you seek, dear one," I assure her, and then I begin to sing. Power bubbles in and around me as I call forth my power, brought with the sun - oh, how wonderful it feels! How long has it been since I felt this strength, this reassurance? How long has it been since I have felt so whole? The lyrics flow forth, weaving themselves of their own accord, the only tones of my own that I can see. Teal wavers across the space between us, winding around the fae and glowing ever so slightly as it settles against her skin, reaching within and along her skin, mending her hurts - or at least the physical ones.

"Talk talk talk."

@[Circuta]