en natt så kall och månen den var klar

[ party-crasher! ]

It was fascinating, how things came and went—joy, goals, ambition, sorrow.. life itself was ever-moving, washing you this way and that, until it spat you out and left you lying on the shore, bones bleaching in the harsh sunlight.

And the reckless water tumbled you about.

Seaweed and seagulls.

He couldn't deny that it was a fine day, just a bit too hot for his liking. The sun was beating down from a dappled blue sky, mercilessly shining upon his already sweaty back. He couldn't fathom why some liked the terrible, itchy sensation of expiring into fluids without even doing something. It was gross. And annoying. He was raised in the frigid cold, knew to cherish the pale rays of sunlight in winter and to bask in its thin warmth; this sun, was just.. yeah. Gross.

So, minus the blasted heat, it would've been a fine day for him too.

Irma and Diego—rare sights in such bright daylight—were flying ahead of him, bickering like they usually did, beaks and talons snapping. Irma always won. She had the most guts, and still size on her side. She snapped towards his eye, knowing he would pull back; and of course he did. But such tricks always bothered Diego, and the amber-eyed owl sped ahead in a fit of anger. They both let him. He was young and foolish and proud (name anyone in their trio who wasn't?), rash, bold, and to get himself into trouble would only temper him.

And they were there to get him out, should he not be able to on his own.

The owl probably would've kept on going, if not for the sudden appearance of a flying Pegasus. The mare was robust, with wide wings, but that wasn't what caught their attention: it was the cloudscape mirrored upon her coat, moving to the same breeze as the world's. She touched back down, still a skyscape, and two young colts were flapping their wings as another mare stood watching. Mauja, watching with half an eye through Diego's mind, recognized it as Brisa—and the other was familiar, but he couldn't place her. Question was, which one did the colts belong to?

If they were Brisa's, she'd come a far way—or been abused in a cruel repetition of what he assumed had happened in her past. Mauja hoped it wasn't so.

As Diego settled on a nearby branch to watch Irma alighted beside him, their cold, sharp eyes tracking the movements of what went down below. Mauja, unwilling to intrude upon what seemed to be an amiable conversation between a mother and a friend and two kids, hung back. He almost felt shy, standing halfway behind a tree. He probably wouldn't have been there unless they'd happened to be straight in his path.

And he didn't know why he didn't just walk away, either.

Se dem brinna över verkan se dem dansa framför bål
Se dem mässa inför satan se dem smida sina stål