The narrow land bridge connecting the mountains to the rest of Helovia stretched ahead of her, tempting her to wander further out from the reaches of the cold. The sea whispered against the shore to her right, it wind warm and salty as it buffeted her dark locks about her crown. The scent of the ocean was pleasant; it had been many seasons since she had stopped to enjoy its exotic odors and sounds, so different from the quiet and pine laden atmosphere of the Basin. Perhaps it was because the sea reminded her of the home she had lost, the edge of the world falling into dark and ever moving waters, her Goddess high overhead.

Was she truly her Goddess anymore? The Moon had forsaken her and her kin of the mountain, that was to be sure, twice now awarding the hornless filth that scuttled about suckling Mirage's tits over those who truly deserved her honor. But, she felt no great love for the God of Time, either; she had not been raised on tales of his splendor, and while he had led them to the mountain and had yet to truly fail them, he had never earned much admiration of the picky woman. Sure, she wore his pendant about her gracefully curved neck, nestled in her sweeping and straight black locks, but he was a stranger to her in ways that Mother Moon had never been. It was liable she was only bitter and full of resentments towards the divine of her birth land, but even as she looked up at the pale crescent suspended in the realm of stars, her heart longed to know her compassion once again, desired to run her muzzle along the curvature of her strange monument along the edge of the cliffs, that very statue that was but a dark line in the horizon from where she stood jutting out from the breast of the World's Edge over the dark waters.

For a long while she stared out over the white-capped field of darkness, the pinpricks of stars flickering on it's choppy surface and the mimic of the Moon dancing with every gust of summer heated wind, her golden eyes focused on that shadowy figure that she knew to be the place where the Goddess would come to speak with the blasphemers, the over-sized birds and their land-bound and ordinary cousins so unworthy of her love. Her mouth was grim, face full of a contemplation that would fade as soon as there was someone to see it; the mare had never been much for dragging those worthy of her amusement down into her pits of shadow, which only seemed to deepen the older she grew rather than taking the steady climb upwards that she had hoped for so long ago.

The Lady knew now that dreams were for fools. The world was as it was, cruel and vindictive, full of danger and savagery, and so she had decided not long after the untimely murders of her parents that she too would be equally as unforgiving and unkind. It had suited her well for many years, a cold facade of stone and ice, but the heat that purred within her belly had sent cracks throughout the veneer and she now found that such a life was lonely. Nearly ten years old, she had only a single friend and myriad acquaintances, though she was sure many others may be fond of her for whatever peculiar reason - it was not for her love of them, that was to be sure. Yes, there was Ruka - the dark red stallion alluring in his wisdom, his compassion for the woman who had found him in the Threshold and seen only his horn, but even he was scant to be seen since she had erupted on him after his failure to face the Edge in battle.

Alone, she felt the steam rise from the growing rifts in her armor, rising like hands in prayer towards the only mother she had left, her sire the lonesome croon of wind shattering against the tall, nearly branch-less pines that lay this far in towards the mainland.

@[Ciceron]