Essetia

Look at the wake from the stardust pouring from your eyes

It was an ugly winter, but not in the sense that most would assume, and rather a bitter season of loneliness for the spy and her devout companion. Everyone around her seemed to grieve for reasons unknown and in their wake, Essetia could do little to stem the growing pains of sadness that still clung heavily to heart.  Elsa had come seeking her forgiveness and the spy had been more than willing to give it-- though the mercy she sought was not something Essetia could truly grant. It was that lingering blade, that festering would wielded against her soul that forced the new Queen into her friend’s loving embrace, but Essetia still felt as though her own promises in return were weak at best. What could she offer Elsa that hadn’t previously been offered before? After all, she was just a pale shadow of her own former graces, and Elsa… she was a Phoenix rising from the ashes. Despite the smoke that had long settled and the fire that had long smoldered, Elsa the Icebound was becoming a reckoning all her own. For that, Essetia was proud… and the young spy would see her friend restored to glory and solace.

The quiet snows of an errant storm fell lightly over the Throat, never quite equaling that which many saw throughout Helovia. The climate was too warm and too dry to invite anything but the summer sun as the seasons changed. Yet, when the rain fell or the snow came, Essetia couldn’t help but delight in the rarity, a beautiful gift from above. Her gaze trailed the soft plains of her home, drifting over the gathering of white and the wayward flakes as they shivered about against the bone-chilling breeze. All was quiet around them and both Essetia and Romul were thoughtful as they meandered, aimless, along the snow-capped dunes. The wolf was reminded of his heritage and was more than comfortable in the freezing temperatures, but Essetia was still unused to the dramatic shift in warmth from the unnaturally hot summer.

Even as Romul wandered ahead, his eyes occasionally turning back to find his companion well, the mare was content to pause in her pointless roving. Winter had brought not only the cold, but a sense of nothingness, of waiting around for something to happen. Essetia wasn’t quite sure what she was waiting for, but there was much she thought to deliberate before the growing season returned and all of Helovia had waken from its winter hibernation. Her mind was occupied by thoughts of Anaan, of Ulrik, of Elsa, of Ghost, and of the many faces she’d left behind in autumn. Where were they now that the snow had come? Did they think of her as well?

The skyline stretched before her and the threatening grip of the sea lingered just beyond, but the spy was hesitant to approach the precipice. She feared the gusting winds and the violent roar of the entity below-- the Dragon’s Throat was nothing like the Edge. The ocean did not greet her with such a pleasant whisper and the mists were not there to guide her to safety’s waiting arms, but instead she was left to her own devices… a concept that she had grown much accustomed to. Yet, in reality, that was how the mare preferred it; she was too solitary to act otherwise. That was her blessing and yet also her curse.