fiachra

Home, where I wanted to go,
And nothing else compares.

Wasn't she just here? Fiachra chuckled to herself as she trotted lightly through the thick trees of the Threshold once again. Well, yes, she had. Very recently, the dense foliage of this place had welcomed her into the fold of Helovia, the first place in several years she had felt comfortable calling her home.

She understood now better than ever the purpose this place, the Threshold, that is, served. This was both the front door and the mote of Helovia. This was where newcomers had to come in order to be delivered into their news lives, and Fiachra had decided she wanted to help others find their futures here as well.

As she wound her way through the woods, Fiachra's alert ears picked up the brief sounds of voices nearby. So soon? she asked herself. Well, that was rather easy! As she crested the slight incline which she was climbing, she spotted a trio of figures standing along her path. There was a small mare, a horse, with dark coloring and darker stripes along her topline. Another mare with pale hair decorated with teal-blue and a large set of wings folded up at her sides also seemed to be greeting the newcomer. Fiachra had not yet gotten used to seeing grown equines with full, and functional, sets of wings upon them. Zahra, the young Basin filly who she had befriended, had been the first, and Fiachra had just thought her a phenomena, but here stood another and this one older even than Zahra.

The third figure was a stallion and.... Fiachra froze in her tracks. The stud's mane was of a bright yellow color that made Fiachra's heart skip a beat and the hair on her spine stand on end. Berner? The thought fleeted across her mind before she could catch up with it. She shook her head, coming back to her senses. No. Not Berner. Just another yellow-haired brute. She huffed, frustrated with herself for letting such a silly thing kill her positive mood. He wasn't the only horse in existence with yellow hair and nothing else about this stallion resembled her past lover. Except perhaps his build, his height (not un-similar to her own), his dark face, and his open and friendly eye. Other than those things, yes, he was very different indeed. Get a grip, dumbo.

With another snort to ward off her dark thoughts, Fiachra forced herself towards the group. She pulled her lips into a cheerful grin and ducked her head in greeting to the others. "I desperately hope I am not interrupting anything, friends," she spoke, her voice light and warm, warmer at least than she felt. She tried to avoid letting her gaze linger on the stallion, but it was difficult not to. He did carry a certain resemblance to, well... him. She voiced her introduction, wondering if she had missed the names of the others already, "My name is Fiachra. Welcome to Helovia." The last part was directed only to the stud, for the others smelled very much as if they belonged here, whereas he did not.

You can't take him back to the Basin, she reminded herself. You can't even help him feel welcome if you can't even look at him without angering yourself.

"Talk."