| World's Edge Nurse |
| Mare :: Equine :: 17.1 :: 9 |
| Adoptable |
a healer's heart, a warrior's body
The mare's mismatched eyes seemed to take on a new sparkle, a new ember of curiosity embedded in their depth. For a brief moment, Tor wondered, really, who was this mare. Harmless and genuine, as she appeared? "You must trust, for if you don't trust anyone, you will never trust yourself. And there are always choices, little sweetling." Tor recalled the serious words of her father. So, right now, she took them to heart and listened with a keen ear.
"Do you heal with magic? Well, it's nice to know that I'm not the only horse to be caught up in the majesty of this place." Tor let a smile shape her gray lips, and let her warm brown eyes take in the mare's constantly flicking ear. Must be to make up for her loss of sight. A pang of sorrow cut through the tobiano. Maybe she could heal the lost sight... no. Maybe. Maybe maybe maybe. If if if. If it was from an old wound, maybe it could be healed. But perhaps better not to offer, in case of digging up old wounds. And besides, Tor didn't really know this mare at all.
"Yes, I do heal with magicks. Let's see... well. Helovia is, I know, west to Anarore. What Anarore is, apart from a name, I don't know. I've never bothered to check, in case of a hot desert, which would be most unwelcome. As for Helovia itself, it is made up of a number of regions, but perhaps the most well-known and inhabited are the World's Edge, the Dragon's Throat, Windtossed Foothills and the Deep Forest. The deep forest has no herd inhabiting it, but is common to those nicknamed 'Outcasts', such as myself. As to why we are called Outcasts, I am unsure of. The World's Edge belongs to the unicorns, and I'm afraid you've arrived at a rather chaotic time. At the moment, a band of Outcasts, called the Qian, is invading the World's Edge. The outcome is still unannouced." Tor shrugged apologetically. Truly, there wasn't much else she could say about that frontier. "Hmm. Oh, yes. The Gods. You may have heard about them; there are always a couple of words going around about them. They are, in fact, flesh and blood. Immortal flesh and blood, yes. Incredibly magical powerful flesh and blood, definitely. They have the ability to grant wishes, to give one magic. That is how I acquired my magic healing ability, although before I used basic remedies, such as healing mud found in the Spectral Marsh, splints, et cetera."
Tor inhaled deeply, letting the sweet air filter through her muzzle. She shifted her weight, resting a huge golden hoof. There really wasn't much else to say. Not that she could recall, anyways. Wait- "But despite all the magic floating around, most won't harm a stranger. The few that do..." Tor was reminded strongly of Psyche. "Deserve to rot in the flames of the Sun God. There are a couple of hints about racist unicorns running about, but I think racism runs in every breed, most unfortunately." That was all Tor could think of. Now she could only wait for Wuthering Height's probably shellshocked reply with that overdose of information.
"blah blah blah."
move move move
think think think
![[Image: osya6c.png]](http://i46.tinypic.com/osya6c.png)
TOR
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