It has taken them weeks to reach this point, dozens of half-made ventures and prep talks and reassurances. Since their appointment as Oracle the girl and her brother have struggled and thought, fought with their fear (her fear, really) and trepidation. When Africa welcomed her and made her medic, the girl had been taken aback with pleasant surprise. That surprise was an echo on the mountain of her disbelief when Gaucho's voice rumbled out that she would be the Wise One, the Speaker for the Sun. It was everything she could have asked for, the greatest honor she could think to hold, yet the mantle sat uneasy across her narrow shoulders. The girl was not blind to Cera's displeasure, and truly, she felt he was probably right to doubt her. What did she know about being a Diviner? What did she know about leading at all?

Feathered hooves leave a trail of crescent moons in the still damp sand. Pre-dawn light illuminates the girl with a soft coral hue, dancing on her mane and playing with the conflicting flowers strung within her hair. Her brother trods beside her, faithful and serene; he anchors her down when her mind threatens to burst, and chases small lizards when she is at ease. They left the Oasis at the morning's first light, hoping to pray to the Sun before others appeared, to strengthen resolve with the warmth of his glow. No single cloud mars the clear horizon, no sign of the darkness which lurks in the periphery of her vision, caught there since she first found herself lost and alone at the mercy of the wraiths. She wonders how many now even know about the wraiths. It feels like every day she sees a new face, while an old friend vanishes and fades into the night...

Crescent-slashed face shakes heartily, neck swaying and mane bouncing as she casts those thoughts aside. Before her the fire flickers into view, a beacon of safety in the darkness of dawn. She approaches it slowly, letting the warmth of it wash away her doubts. In her mind she imagines the heat of the Sun; in her heart she recaptures the feeling of his nearness, and a faint smile flutters at the edge of her lips. The black brother bounds ahead of her, making a beeline for the warmth of the fire; he is glad to see the last of winter, pleased beyond measure by the return of heat. The girl is glad, too.

Behind her, the rim of the sun peers over the horizon. Before her, the fire surges in response. Dark voice round and eager and warm, the girl prays, "Sun God, thank you for returning again. Please... guide me... help me aid my herd, let me serve as a vessel against darkness and a wielder of your light. Be my voice when I cannot speak, be my strength when I am weak, and do not let me falter in my path of protecting the lost and saving the broken." Her alto grows stronger, louder, hesitancy replaced with an ardent resolve. With the Gods behind her, maybe she can be everything she wants. Maybe she truly can champion the fallen, can vanquish the dark.

Black eyes peer into the fire, hoping for some reassurance, some promise of a brighter future, some guidance- something she can share, can hold and find meaning in. Natraj returns to sit by her hooves, gold eyes scanning the horizon for signs of life, the hint of arrivals. He knows how difficult it is for his sister to find her voice. He only hopes it will not escape her today.


[ Open for all Throat members! ]
@[Random Event] if she could see something in the fire that'd be great~