The list is long and time is short, Alune didn't quite mind. He had been blessed with the ability to craft glass, effortlessly shape it from nothingness using the waters and wind. Besides, it gave him a chance to decompress, his thoughts often turned to home as of late, the images of his fellow Oracles flickering in and out in hazes of colour and grey. How were they? How was their home? Had the Gods called them back from where ever they had wandered. So many questions, and the deep blue stallion was forever grateful that tasks kept them from sitting in his skin and sinking beneath, pulling him deeper and deeper into himself to the point the silver of his eyes was the product of his journey within.

He settled himself on one of the clearings by the sheer cliffs, where the fog still rolled like the waves beneath the chalky white drop, and the thin streams from the springs slithered through the ground like spindled veins. It's quiet, serene almost, with the only noise the rustle of the tree's and the sound of the ocean spray, peppered with the occasional birdsong overhead. It was the kind of days many longed for, where many would happily halt their day in order to simply be, lay down their burdens for awhile and stretch their unburdened minds and legs.


He might've been one of them, if his task wasn't tied to the needs of others. He had his own idea's in mind, for the glass he was about to craft. One that was so very him, and the one which would show the radiant beauty of the Goddess he served, and then one of the requests from the sneaks that called the mist his dominion. Knees make contact with the misted grass as he lowered himself into a comfortable position, preparing himself silently for the ardous task of delicating shaping the glass into something that would rival his own lands perfection.

Silver eyes momentarily close, and the Seer inhaled deeply as he dug deep to gently grasp and ply at the heated orb within. Let it's tendrils reach towards the glitter waters and pull languidly at the shadows which danced beneath the trees and rocks. They wisp to life and intertwine in a carefully planned dance, weaving together until there is no more shadow and water glistening like dew drops, only smooth glass gently bending and shaping itself to his whims.

Concentration lines his face, ears swept back to press against silvered strands against his poll as he focuses upon the shapes he wishes to make.

As he moves the image through his mind, different angles, the sweeping lines and perfectly etched features of her face, down to her neck and then her shoulders. Feathered wings begin to take shape, gently curled inwards at the tips. Sweat begins to pool on his midnight hued neck, as the magnitude of the sculpture begins to wisp into existence and present it's weight upon his shoulders.

Wings complete, he moves mentally to reshape and etch the careful, feminine curves and lines of the Goddess more precisely into her glass representation, down to her delicate cloven hooves notched with lines. It is lovingly, painstakingly crafted. Utterly Thalian in it's design, something which he cannot help. If they were in Thal'Sharah, he would of added glittering, floating orbs to wreath her body, the soothing pale glow illuminating her crystal-like form in ethereal splendor. Unfortunately, he is not there, and he must rely on his own talents to make sure she is beautiful. Her horn follows next, gently coaxed into being, twisting to a sharpened point at the end and finally he begins to tuft out the hairs upon her tail and mane, delicate glass strands pulled and curved to create flowing movement where he can.


Eventually, the sculpture is complete, and the silver eyed stallion lets his lids open to gaze at his artwork, the exquisite likeness to the Goddess is remarkable, as though she had been encased in glass herself. Somewhere within him flickers with pride, elated that his labor has born such a fruit. The sweat which marks his neck and shoulders is worth it, as is the dull throb within his mind for exerting himself so much. Letting out a quiet sigh, he dips his muzzle into the nearby stream to swallow a mounthful of the refreshing liquid, allowing himself to take a small break before he began on his next task.