My thoughts are the cold kind,
I've got storm clouds brewing behind my eyes
"Neither are you, stranger" a soft voice commented, before the ebon maiden had a chance to reply. "At least not here."
From a nearby thicket emerged a slender young girl, as pale of skin and hair as the stallion but angelic in contrast to the foul darkness that oozed from his being. She gazed calmly between the two with eyes that were old beyond her years, a gaze that perceived much and missed very little. It lingered for a while on each stranger in turn, neither judging nor passing but attentive; a small smile and nod was offered to the curt maiden, but when pale eyes returned to rest upon the ominous looking man there was a serious note behind her easy smile.
"Do not be so quick to pass judgment, traveler. In Helovia you are what you choose to be, neither more nor less. You would do well to remember that."
She tilted her head slightly and regarded the mare, as if considering whether she ought to add anything else, and conceded;
"Maybe she will be in the future. Or you will. Or perhaps you will both kneel before me and swear allegiance... Who knows."
A smile played across rosy lips at this, humor glittering in dual-color eyes - one green as the pale foam of the southern seas, the other milky and faded in hue with dark veins extending into the supple skin, as though some dark taint had blinded it. The filly adjusted the wings that rested against her sides, half extending them in a half mocking bow as she added;
"For future reference, I am Erthë of the World's Edge, currently apprenticed to the Goddess of Moon's seer. Might I ask who my future contenders for the thrones of Helovia might be? I perceived your name as offered, lady Zandora, but I do not know the name of your... friend."
A twist of an ear turned the last word into a question. They did not seem to be well acquainted, but appearances were deceiving and Erthë did not wish to embarrass herself by assuming anything. Coiling a slender, silk-tasseled tail around a haunch in a gesture of relaxation - one that masked the wary readiness she felt beneath the amiable smile - and turned her attention upon the gruff stallion. If she was startled by his unusual appearance the girl hid it well, for no trace of fear or uncertainty showed in her mannerism or voice.
He could be as much god as he wished - in these lands there were only four who held any real power, and she was devoted to one whom this weeping, fuming pretender could never equal in nightmarish splendor.
Erthë
And my heart will be blacker than your eyes
when I'm through with you
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