yael

Talk with anyone who has chosen immortality and most of them will suffer the same doubts; Mauja would not be the first to realize the agony of a life that stretches on and on and on and on and on when everyone else around them fades into oblivion. It’s fucking hard to avoid being bitter, to be a timeless sentinel, a rock, a mountain, when you have long ago passed the crown on to others. Positions which revolve around the theory of an advisor, an honorary figurehead, have nothing to keep the holder grounded. There are no consequences for disappearing. And so - too often, they do. Choosing good is an effort one undertakes every day, sometimes just in the simple act of rising each day to say hello to the sun, to greet the light of day.

Lucky for Mauja, the path is easily found again. Some hooves always know the way.

Yael, too, has taken a long nap, allowing the sands to bury her body in camouflage while the world seemed to operate as a background to her dreams. Last night, her dreams told her to revisit the Marsh, and so she goes in the morning light (no longer early, as the change of seasons pushes the sun ever more northward), Zani grumbling a protest in the back of his throat. Mud spatters her legs, but she doesn’t seem to mind - even daring to go so far as to enjoy the temperate climate the Marsh seems to hold on to. Nowhere near where Mauja lay, the faint sound of Alysanne’s voice makes her whip her head around, ears perked in the Queen’s direction. Yael doesn’t quite understand what she says, but there is an element of distress and surprise in her tones, and so the Seer does not hesitate to quickly make her way to the other side of the Marsh.

The silver and gold pegasus comes upon quite the scene - her Queen nudging a white, spotted body, while a stallion seems as dumbfounded and at a loss as the Seer does. “Aly?” Yael says quietly, for she is the first concern. Dainty legs carry her a few more steps towards the floating body, while her brain tries to pick at what is missing… and then it hits her. There’s no rotting smell! Death and decay may live in these pools, but this body is not bloated! It doesn’t smell of dying innards and maggots and decomposing flesh. Fetid pools may stink - but this stallion does not.

“I t’ink xe’s still alive... “ the Seer ventures, giving Aly room (she seems to be quite intimate with the fallen figure) “... T’ere ees no deat smell. So… eet might be good to get xeem out, yes?” Hey Goddess - how's that for logical?

Where are the other strong shifters when you need them?