There is love in your body but you can't hold it in,
It pours from your eyes and spills from your skin,
Tenderest touch leaves the darkest of marks,
And the kindest of kisses break the hardest of hearts

The dusky hues of charred remains hung like a filmy veil, no longer a scorching cacophony of terror and horror, but a quiet, haunting juncture of blight; silver scar. She drew her eyes to the vast scenery beyond, but always saw that poignant piece of ruptured, ravaged greenery. A sad, tattered, melancholy edge to an otherwise beautiful realm, an elegiac memory fostered into the hearts of those already blemished. But she dared to turn her attention away from it, allowed the enchantment, beguiling chords, of the land to seize her body in that warm, tender sensation of affiliation, fostered in the mind of a child and finally brought to life. She shifted her mind to focus on what was good, what had become of her recent trek, what could still be - even upon a land corrupted by cinders, there was something majestic, regal to behold. She was no longer alone, a wayfaring, wandering stranger, she would find splendor, grandeur, in the soothing, quieted depths of the Edge, and then, if she were truly, divinely lucky, for once in her short life she would belong. In that thread of thought, she mustered a smile, allowed her radiance to pour over what could have been a desolate meeting of minds. No more sorrow, no more sadness, no more talk of desolate severities. They would make do, they would heal, and they would start anew.

But, a voice rang out over the throng of their chatter, strong, confident, varnished with humor despite the grave circumstances surrounding the tarnished villa. She drew her noble head towards the sound, neat, fine ears swiveling in the allure, gaze taking in the muscular frame of a colossal, soot-ed stallion. His vocals ensued command, authority, mastery over the domain – ah, this could only be the monarch of the realm. Content with this information, she listened to the inflections in his voice, the allowance of laughter brimming amongst the crowd. Had this calamity been accepted then, sanctioned, and recognized? Were they content? Was he, the ruler, untroubled by the vexation of Gods? Or would they fight back, become willing pariahs against immoral, immortal souls? She furrowed her brow, appearing deep in thought due to his contributions to their conversation, then resurfaced from the plain of notions with another illuminating grin. As he grew closer to their gathered area, and towering even more over dear, sweet Aurelius, Lena tilted her cranium, studied the spots along his coat, underneath the murky stains of old, dying embers. Swiftly, she drew her muzzle against a smeared portion, catching the cinders along the soft, velvetine skin of her lips, giggling when they too blotched her hide. “Ah. There could be fine things under the ash too, I suppose.” She winked, assuring the leader that she was not disappointed – she was of the whimsical fairies and fineries, everything would work out from this blighted, hellion helm. He continued speaking, polite, cordial, and she placed her vocals just the same, testing his name along her tongue; dulcet, sweet, charming in the midst, mist, of distraught terrain. “A pleasure, Mauja. I’m Lena.” Light, rekindled, set aflame. She would glow far more than the fires in the splendor of friends and allies.

Aurelius too, gave oath to the vexations the Edge had faced: dueling deities, scathing and scorching, using citizens of realms for their fiendish rituals. But he didn’t despair either, despite that slight shiver her sharp eyes had caught, and so once more she pushed away the darkened threads of dismay. At his touch, she danced away, light, lithe movements, gave her own teasing nip at his furry withers, ensued forth the mellifluous, harpsichord opulence of her vocals once more. ”I could not be disappointed by such a land, Aurelius.” Her coquette motions, rapturous strings and soft petals returned to taunt the cerulean mare next, brushing against her side in a silly bump amongst and against shoulders. ”Oh yes, we must have something to call you!”