The meeting had not exactly gone to plan, though it was not entirely unexpected that the call to action had be rebuked and earned the skepticism of her fellow herdmates, she had bore no ill toward them. Still, in her heart, there was a part which whispered that if they had been so discontent, so active in other divisions and so tired of the inactivity — why had they not spoken up sooner? why had they not already voiced the discontent and will which she had done? why had they not rallied around and formulated a plan of action and informed everyone else of their plans and what they had achieved in the droning silence?

Gaucho had left a gaping, smouldering wound in many hearts — including her own. Not to the degree of Sohalia or Ampere, his Khaleesi's of the Great Sands now widowers left to tend to their children and pick up the pieces of shattered lives. He had been great, fearsome and all consuming, and while his rugged wild beauty had not been lost on her, he had saved her once. He had chased after her would-be captor, stepped to her defense, he had fought in her stead and won. It was nothing romantic, she was not blind, but the awe and deep sense of debt she had felt, the respect had burned from her pelt in great rolling waves of fire. Then, the one confusing and exhilerating moment of passion they had when patrolling the flats had yielded the birth of her daughters. She mourned for them, she had seen silver and lavender eyes fill with sadness and remorse, the longing for a father who their first memory of was his last.

One thing she understood, at least, would be that Guacho would of not wanted them to linger and mourn for him. Would not want to be his death the reason they stagnated and floundered like drowning horses washed out to sea with scorched wings and anchor chained hearts. It left a sour taste in her mouth that this might be the excuse, or the reason some had, to simply drift in the breeze.

She had understood their skepticism, to a degree, why snap teeth and step on the one pegasus that had for no selfish gain and ill will, showed initiative and willingness to bring them back up from the depths? They wanted a new era, they required balance and they valued those stood up and wanted to prove their mettle — why did they go back to someone who had their time in the dazzling rays of the Gods Favor and the Herds Loyalty. She bore no ill will for Sohalia, one could not be condemned if they were not know personally. If everyone required credentials and a long list of achievements before they stepped on their founding road to greatness, she'd wager that not many would be where they were today. Herds would have never truly gotten off the ground, things would not have been built or decided. They had been given a chance, equines throughout Helovia had been given a chance despite their lack of greatness.

Nephele had stood unyielding despite everything thrown her way, had stood with her head held high and her heart and mind open — not broken and gaping — and had taken everything in stride. Now, as the crowds dispersed and the sun made way for his sister, she too ushered off her young ones to the safety of their nest for the night. Byron already a blackened silhouette whose showing off yielded him little more than an embarrassed squawk as he failed to glide up the dunes as his mother did. "Careful, I will not be digging you out of a dune, again." She called ahead, amusement woven tight into her words. "You nearly gave your brother a heart attack."


Nephele.

Ears flicked back as her step faltered, the voice still rang hot in her pierced ears. She turned as she drew to a stop, mismatched eyes settled on Sohalia's advancing frame with a curious glimmer within the jewels. She asked for a moment, and the Warrioress considered briefly what there was to talk about. A lot, she imagined, they had stood on opposite sides of the board but were united in their love and determination to care for the land and members they called home and family. "Of course." Briefly, her head turned back to her foals. "Byron, take Jude back to the nest." Her tone was authoritative but warm, the boy gave her a quizzical look but decided not to press it like he usually did, and after the colts had disappeared over the top of the dune, she returned her attention to the pale mare.

"What do you need?" She asked, not botheried to hide her curiosity on the matter of why she was being stopped. Instead, she settled into a patient silence to allow the other to speak, patience which she hadn't possessed until lately, and she had her children to thank for that.




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