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AISLING
my friend makes rings, she swirls and sings
she’s a mystic in the sense that she’s still mystified by things
my friend makes rings, she swirls and sings
she’s a mystic in the sense that she’s still mystified by things
The little faerie mare hesitated on the shores of the sea, leaving the trail of her pacing in the sands. Behind her rose the tall grasses that surrounded the caves of Helovia’s Heart and ahead, shimmering on the horizon, the isle of Dragon’s Throat. 'Is this where Thunderhead lives, then?' She’d seen the stormy mare fly south and hadn’t yet found her, so that far-away island might have been her destination.
Ever since she had met Thunderhead and Raven near the bloody waterfall, Aisling had been trying to come up with ways she could make herself useful to the secret society. The four recent battles had seemed to highlight just how little she had to contribute. She was no warrior, and
lacked the kind of courage to throw herself into battle despite her diminutive stature, she could not help them fight if called to do so. She did know a little of healing, but a pinch of herbivore could not rival those who healed with magic and there wouldn’t be much point for the Whatchers to seek her out if she could only help with minor cuts and bruises. She was determined to learn more, but that would take time, and she’d have to find someone to teach her.
Growing up, she’d had a penchant for mischief, though never of a malicious sort, and she and the other foals on Éire had become quite accomplished pranksters. 'A secret society will have secret business; if I cannot fight maybe I have the skills for other things.' And just as she’d had that though she had chanced upon the blue and black mare and decided to do something that was perhaps a little reckless and pilfer an item off the leader of The Whatch herself. She had never intended to keep it, only to test her skills and had thought Thunderhead would understand. She’d been gone, however before Aisling had had time to give it back and longer she had the dagger in her possession the more nervous she felt.
'Was this even where she had gone? What if someone else comes? I don’t even know the mare’s true name to ask for and what if she’s angry?' Part of her wanted to run; if she fled now no one would ever know she’d taken the dagger. 'But that would make me a thief in truth.' she thought, little ears flattening at the idea. 'No, I must return what is lost, not take for myself.' Gathering enough courage to hold her still, Aisling planted herself on the beach looking out at the water—the dagger tucked out of sight where her braided make ran over her withers—and hoped it would be Thunderhead who found her first.
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[For @Ampere - She's right at the shore on the heart-side :3]
[now come the days of the dreamer and they are filled with wonder and light ]
:: permission given for use of magic and force :: please tag Aisling in all posts ::
