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Why come home?
To Illynx, it wasn't the simplest of questions; Helovia was not much better off than the rest of the world, devoured by the magic that filtered through the veins of the earth just as they tried to stay abreast, attempted to wield that which could not be tamed. And perhaps, just perhaps, that was why she had come home, even after wandering nameless expanses and kingdoms. She was, after all, born here, and while she did not feel that she owed Helovia anything, she also knew that the best chance to grow was where your roots were - and both she and Helovia were two of a kind; illustrious and beautiful, full of treachery and tempered secrets. They could not be defined, and she had found that most other places were easily numbered and listed. Not to mention, integrated.
And so it was a blessed evening when a trail of crescent indentions trailed behind her in the subtly glistening layer of frost, her ebony tail dragging along in between the hoof-prints to leave a rather individual trail among the paths that her horned brethren had left on their journeys to and from the Basin. She could smell them, the bright and cleanly scent of other unicorns, untainted with the sour odor of horses and the dusty, mite ridden feathers of pegasi, as it had been all across this cursed continent. No, no, there was no better place than Helovia for Illynx; it was the only place where others of her species had not gone utterly mad and begun breeding with dogs.
As she crested the final batch of rocks and stepped into the peaceful clearing, she found herself warmed despite the chill of the autumn air. The scent of all those she had left behind lingered in the icy breeze, invoking images of their faces and the sound of their voices; she found it rather odd to feel such emotions over these near strangers, the only one with whom she had ever found friendship being Psyche, but she finally deduced that it was merely weariness playing games with her usually steadfast mind. Slowly, and with liberal gazes spread across her horizons, she made her way to the usual cave in which she had spent her nights here before she had decided to venture out into the wilderness, the wind lifting her jet black tresses about capriciously. When she reached her destination, she found with a slight inner thrill that the loose covering of moss that dangled over the front of her nesting place had become coated in a millimeter of frost, turning the deep green foliage into a glistening and unusual emerald that she slipped underneath, the cold tips of the plant dragging across her golden strewn back. Her golden hooves clicked beneath her as she turned around to peer out of her damp resting place, eyes gazing distantly out over the waters as she dozed into sleep.
Because home is where the purebreds are.
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