"Tor... Torleik?"
The words slipped from the slit of her lips before she could catch herself, hesitant yet eager in the way she spoke them. She approached from behind, and she wasn't sure what about him pulled the name from her throat--hidden in the shrubbery the greens masked all the tell-tale signs of someone other than her once friend. A glimpse of horns and his black sheen were enough to warrant the image of him in her mind. It was there; shakily and partly faded, but there.

Had she even wanted to see him? The thought of him lingered since her crash landing from the storm that stole her memories, the first of the horned she would meet again. She knew, somewhere, that what he said was truth: he knew her, she knew him. But the mere fact of missing time believed her to doubt, and so she had kept away. Until, at least, she had run into the winged woman who went with him and found her too. Serenity had ran long before she could grab a name and the guilt had chewed at her since. Perhaps enough time had passed since their first interaction--since was, in some way, looking for him.

But she was also seeking comfort, and her direction instinctively aimed toward the labyrinth. Elsa first found her there and she had sought solace from its hanging greenery since. She would lose herself amid the twists and boughs. She would get lost. She would try to find herself. She was certain that she would never get who she was back--she would never even know who that was--but with the rising moons she was coming to accept it. Much like him, like the one she would some day learn who'd save her, she had to rebuild herself.

Unlike him, however, her fear of horns would set her lightyears behind.

The cling of metals pulled her attention down toward his tail and quickly realization set in that it couldn't be Torleik. Both some form of embarrassed and suddenly afraid, she pushed herself out of the surrounding branches to reveal herself to the apparent stranger. He had already headed toward the pool, but she lingered back with a would-be blush spreading across her cheeks were it visible. Wings clamped shut around her small frame, and she looked at the ground; she couldn't meet his eyes. "Oh, I... I am sorry for the mistake." Her voice was light as wind, fluid as water, stars lit brightly against the darkness of the bushy overgrowth.