"Thanks... I think." Not that the direction the bird had moved in felt like an improvement. Now it circled above her back instead with her precious, flammable feathers just within reach. Feeling decidedly paranoid Shadow followed the avian conjuration with some worry as it continued to warm her up. It had to be doing more good than she realized for the feeling in her limbs was returning, no longer numb and useless but tingling with a strong urge to get up and move away from the bright, beautiful and horrifyingly magical creation.

For some time the mare endured its presence and stole glances at the stallion, his presence growing less angelic and more mortal as the sun steadily ascended the heavenly ladder. Yet for all that she tried, the shadow mare couldn't maintain the feeling of disappointed indignation (he hadn't tricked her on purpose, but she conveniently forgot about that) at the lack of wings and the presence of a horn. Previous experiences in Helovia had taught her to doubt anyone with a spear, but for far longer she had been a wanderer with an open mind, as accustomed to mingling with her own race as she was with other, far stranger creatures. Had this steed not helped her, without promise of reward or plea from her side?

Besides, while not exactly angelic he was still a sight for sore eyes. The stony facade paired with frosty colors lent him an air of royalty, a winter king exiled into summer's scorching heat. Left alone, to melt or change beyond recognition for no purpose but clinging ungracefully to life... But that too was interesting, wasn't it. Greed was not inherently bad, nor was a desire to live anything to apologize for. It was a part of being mortal, this burning, gnawing urge to push forward and explore the other side of the hill, to sate hunger and need and revel in pleasure - and maybe, when dark clouds rolled in over the horizon and life became hard and difficult, you would have something to look back on. Something that would remind you why you kept going.

The silence was growing uncomfortable. The mare twisted restlessly where she lay, pushed herself up on the belly and pulled stocky legs in beneath the barrel while raven wings spread out - hesitantly, with great care - to let the feathers dry in the warmth of the false angel's fire.

"So, what brings you to the beach at this early hour?" she asked, managing a look of interest despite not really caring what the subject was about - she just needed to break the silence, do something, before the desire to burst from the white sand and flee grew too strong to manage. Was the stallion aware of how nervous magic was making her? No, how could he know - he was not the only one with a poker face. Hers was just less stony, less cold, and far less polite. Would it bother her to know that her blunt words had injured her savior? Perhaps, perhaps not - as it was, Shadow remained oblivious to the internal bleeding of a soul and rested comfortably in the belief that she was the only one with aches and bruises.


@[Mauja]