In Isra's swift landing, bogged down only by the emotions that fluttered around in her uneasy breast, her vermillion eyes missed the familiar sight of Zaffre. Her mother's dearest companion, and a benefactor that had aided Israfel herself when she was but a tiny filly... The warbled, chirrup caught her attention, however, and the pale goddess's emotion filled eyes turned upon the blue dragon. With the sight of Zaffre, Isra stretched her muzzle out towards him, desperate for a familiar touch. Zaffre, like her mother and Kimber, were constant. They would always remain, present to listen to her troubles... Or so, at least, Israfel hoped.

"Zaffre," she replied, her voice barely higher than that of a whisper. It was a greeting and a plea for assistance wrapped in one simple word, but she hoped that the dragon understood. While they didn't share the same sacred bond that Smoke did, surely they had some kind of bond between them. Surely, as one of her sole caretakers of her youth, he could sense that she was deeply troubled. "... My mother? Is she about?"

But, as it seemed, Zaffre was looking out for her once more, for not long after the question left her lips did Smoke's voice dance through the air, familiar and warm. Ears snapped to attention, and the young demi-goddess' head turned towards the sound. Her eyes met those of her mother's, and with one step of her golden hoof did she approach. Smoke did the same, and Israfel practically melted at the feeling of her mother's muzzle against her cheek, then going past to caress her neck. A mother's touch could never be forgotten, and despite their time apart, Israfel would never forget the gentle caresses that came from Smoke the Wild Rose.

Israfel, swallowing thickly to hopefully rid her voice of the cumbersome tremble, lifted her head and moved to rub her cheek against her mother's neck, briefly spotting the mark of the Sun that rested upon the exposed hide. The mark of her conception, it seemed...

"Mother," she murmured softly, uncertain as where to start, "... I went to Father's shrine, in the Veins. I wanted to speak with him..." Where once pride would have laced every syllable, humility and sadness replaced it. Perhaps yesterday, she would have told the tale with vigor and spunk, but for now... No. Only humility remained. "But he did not come. Instead, the God of the Spark arrived, and he showed me the most vile of things."

Israfel pulled away from her mother then, hazy orange eyes dropping to the ground, the golden points of her hooves shuffling in a blatant display of uncertainty. Should she tell, of the vision that she was given? "I saw a vision, mother... Of myself, being torn apart, limb by limb, by this unspeakable beast. The God of the Spark, he told me that, that I was feared and loathed, hated, because I was my father's daughter." Here, the pale princess' eyes looked back up to her mother, misery shining in the vermillion depths. "I do not know what he meant, mother... And I just feel so confused. He said that if I remained on the path that I am on, I will meet my fate at the talons of that terrible beast."

A shaky inhale was followed by a slow exhale, as Isra valiantly tried to rein in her emotions. "... I wanted to ask your input on all of this, because... I just don't know what to do."