Eventide is softly casting o'er the earth a magic spell,

And a love-song, everlasting, on the night wind seems to swell.

Nostalgia was not a feeling she was particularly fond of. It had a way of leaving you misty eyed and sighing, of blinding you to the wonders of the present and damper the spirit of any conversation. Yet it crept up on her like the shadows of dust, swept her in its murky embrace and brought her mind to things she'd rather not think about. Dead mothers, for instance, or times passed, places half forgotten and happier days.

Learning how to use her wings had opened new horizons to the opalescent cygnet. Her journeys across Helovia no longer spanned over weeks but had been shortened to days at a time. In return, those days could see her in all corners of the land, from the Blood Falls in the north to the Throat in the south, and more often than not she circled over the vast expanse of forest where she had spent large parts of her childhood. Erthë rarely felt any need to actually descend through the dense canopy. The memory of the shadows beneath, of mossy trees and gnarled branches was etched into her very essence, capable of bringing as much sorrow and longing as familiarity and comfort. But nostalgia had a way of pushing her to relive everything that hurt her, killing her smile like bittersweet poison.  

Dual colored eyes were glazed and distant, distracted by the ghost of a mare long since gone as she walked along the familiar path through the trees. Even without looking she knew the way, knew it like she knew the curve of her own youthful hip and limping stride. Any moment now the red pool would appear, with the gnarled black tree dipping its roots into the clear water. Once, in a happier time, she had played there with a young stallion, their voices reverberating between rough trunks as fireflies danced in the shade. If she listened closely, Erthë was sure she could hear it still; the ring of voices, a startled cry and splashing water...

"Argen! Oh, Argen! Where have you been?!"

Startled, the lithe little fawn blinked and shook her head, taken aback when she realized that there really was someone there. Torn between curiosity and a feeling of intruding upon something private, she picked her way through the bushes and emerged on the outskirts of the clearing. White locks cascaded down the slender neck in a casual mess - recklessly charming or merely unkempt, depending on ones taste - as she raised her head and peered across the open space, pale near colorless eyes darting around until they landed upon the horses. One was a stranger; stallion and mature looking, handsome in a roguish kind of way despite being neither crowned or feather-cloaked. A dragon flapped in the air above him, its metallic scales shining like the glowing acorn she wore in her tail; Erthë breathed in softly in awe at the sight of it, and only reluctantly looked away from its splendor to notice the other presence.

This, however, was not a stranger. Not in the true name of the word at least. Nymeria was the sister of the stallion she had acquainted on this very spot earlier in the summer, a young mare who had managed to get on the wrong side of lady Ophelia and caused a scene by wriggling her way out of a challenge. Something in Erthë's stomach churned at the sight of the dark-steel girl, a mixture of nervousness and admiration and scandalized curiosity as to what she had sought from the blood-stained lady that started the whole mess. To study beneath her... Hm. Erthë wasn't entirely convinced.

"Pardon my intrusion. Never mind me, I'll just... be over here" she mumbled softly, daring another few steps into the clearing, knowing she probably ought to turn around and leave these two alone (did they know each other? Maybe they were busy doing grown up things! Somehow the thought made her uncomfortable) but too curious - read nosy - to even consider it. Better they call her out on being a busybody than be left out on anything!

Giving the two a wide berth she picked her way over to the pond and lowered her porcelain crowned head to drink, eyes mostly hidden behind frosted lashes but secretly studying both horses for reactions, expressions, anything at all that might interest her.