She had called him brother.

Not terribly long ago, Onni had stood on red stands, smiling at the earth painted stallion with stubborn cheerfulness. Despite his best efforts, Eribor simply could not have managed to rob the sunshine girl of her smile. The gruff exterior and borderline hostility of his words made the him like a stone, yet the former shaman had felt a delicate center underneath that facade. The memory felt so odd, so distant, foreign in her mind now, and reaching back to pull the line of "nosey mares" tugged oddly on her sense of self. The bright, shining mare felt like a stranger, while the cold, purposefully distant Eribor a friend.

Damage, how did it manifest? Did everyone cold and bitter close themselves off from the outside world? Was she expected to bend and fold, become a shadow in the lives of other's? Did she dare to fight against this reality?
Could someone glowing with the light of the sun ever truly be a shadow?
She wonders.

A cautious, small step is taken toward her, and the blue eyes watch with a quiet, resigned sadness. Inwardly, Onni wonders why he seems so afraid to get close. Maybe she was in danger of shattering if his breath landed upon her, but the mare thought she was not quite that fragile... not yet, anyway. His stony, emotionless face gives way to uncertainty, with a touch of odd concern. Out of place, for Onni had never seen the kaleidoscope of emotions dance across his features. To pull blood from stone, the Illuminant must be a miracle worker or truly pathetic in this moment.

The stallion matches her joke with one equally as bad, and Onni's eyes fall to the dirt. One shining emerald hoof draws nearer, while the charcoaled ones dance along behind it. The distance remained, eerie and quiet between them. An island amid the ocean, the physical space between Eribor and Onni did not make a difference. The space is closing by work of the bright emerald, brushing the dead clay. The cloud of sand dancing into the air; the wind catching the dust, sending it sailing to distant places. Inside, something shifts. Lyhty coos with sudden, alert concern.

Upon the sand, a tear from Onni's ocean eyes splits into pieces.

"I always find myself standing alone," she says, hushed and heavy. "Why? How do I always find myself here, forsaken?" As if she never truly touched anything in the world. As if everything was ephemeral, fleeting, racing away as fast as it rushed through your life. A heavy, wracked breath escapes the chambers of her lungs, head tilting away to avoid the shameful look of grief upon her face. Onni did not deserve to feel sorry for herself; after all, she had left on her own accord. It is no wonder the only one here waiting when she returned was a boulder atop a distant mountain.

For all the lives she saved, all the bones mended, all the smiles given. This is what she had to show for it.