Under clinched eyes Aswane sees the night gleam a foul burgundy. The silver bay filly finds air tight in her weak chest, and releases as her eyes open, good green eye finding the two mares. She is still in speaking range of them, but the distance soon reaches an arm to awkward as the gale sweeps it up into their mournful expressions. She wants them to know that they are not alone in this devastation. Perhaps it is simply fate that somehow the flowerchild stumbled upon such a sacred calamity. Perhaps this is a place of mourn. Th sadness she feels seems to radiate from the glowing gloom of hot, blue lava that seers and sizzles under the bridge-arc of cracked earth.
Aswane shivers in her sweaty hairs, spasms resulting along the curve of her yearling spine. Something is different in the way she looks at them. Ever since her eyes reopened, tearless, she can measure them with her own minimal judgement, not blurred with the opinions of melancholy. The girl finds love for them, but she doesn't feel they understand true sadness. Rejection is what Aswane feels, cloaked in darkness under the new moon, watching the world grow purple, blue, then black. There is nobody to guide her, tell her what to do in this world. Not that she needs it, but knowing that someone was there to keep the good and bad a difference in her mental gates would have been something she'd be thankful for. She'd been opening those mental gates to all kinds of trouble lately, and it would take more than a friend to keep them closed. Her parents, bless them, were fighting to save one over the other. She lies under the blanket of stars that threaten to fall into her soul and scratch felony in her heart without guidance, without a breath of love. Aylin had love. But Aylin lost it.
Aswane knew she meant well - at least she hoped she did.
Her memories fall into clarity as she is brought back to reality. Her heart hurts, and what she sees presses into her. She sees the beautiful white and red lady glance back to recognize something that was in Aswane's blind spot. He has a dark, dutiful aura about him, approaching with such balanced head carriage, and perfect markings. The filly feels suddenly small as his electric eyes send nervous shocks down her spine. She remembers the insane figure of madness she'd encountered in the tall treed forest, but he looks less mad and more annoyed. She is all at once pleased by the electric annoyance, however shrinking back a step, sensing some kind of divine entity within him.
The girls look up at him, covered in messy sadness. The paint Pegasus can't help a stream of angst that flows from her mouth, and the gray horned one speaks with a much cooler, but refreshing tone about the man frozen in time. She wishes she had a request for the beautiful being, but nothing resonates in her throat.
She can't think of a reason why, but her eyes glance up again to the nodding acceptance of the pristine, crimson-tipped mare. Her bicolored eyes soft with sweetness, and the filly melts in the kindness. It is such subtle kindness that the bay filly is drawn in by instinct, stepping closer into the climactic moment with the God. She looks at him with dual colored eyes and takes a breath of bravery, preparing her small voice.
"Sir, I was only weeping for those who have worse luck than I."
She remembers what she believes her parents to look like. She remembers what she believes Cyrus to look like - but all she really sees is Aylin. And she feels more water form like whelps in her eyes.
"I don't want any magic. I just want my parents back," a tear rolls off the edge of her eyelash.
aswane
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shelter for the forlorn. [open]
