She hated it. Hated it more than anything, this darkness. Yseulte was a desert flower that flourished beneath the intensity of the sun's scorching rays and blistering touch, and relished the feel of hot, dry wind running through her silver-gold hair like a man's loving caress. Where have you gone, my King of Thieves? She even missed the hiss of scorpions streaking through burning golden sand and the deep, thunderous thrum of a rattlesnake's buzzing tail rattling in the sparse shade of sagebrush and cacti. The sky was always a bright cornflower blue, and her tough skin was nearly scrubbed raw by sand, wind, and sun. She could go without water for days, survive suffocating sandstorms, and navigate by the stars, but what good were those skills when Helovia was clad in eternal winter and a plain cloak of immortal darkness that lacked the luster of decorative diamond stars?
Yseutle did not particularly care for trees, either, now that she considered it. She could not see the endless sky, could not feel the warmth of the sun on her back. Not that it mattered, anyhow, as everlasting darkness had settled across the sky, draping Helovia in a cloak fashioned from night, shadow, and cold. The sun never rose in the east, it did not set in the west. It never rose at all. The cool, twisting darkness and the labyrinth of trees was much more suited to Itzal's slinking, stalking ways. But struggling through the wild depths of the tangled woods where dark things slumbered was the only way to recruit future sisters, and so stumble blindly through the darkness after Itzal she did.
Her heart was glad when Itzal snarled to notify her of company ahead. The Threshold was usually alive with sweet meadow lark song and the murmur of wind through the ferns, but in this blackness, the somber forest was stiff, silent, and dead. Sighing, she limped after her restless tiger companion through the crusted snow as he relayed the two strangers' conversation to her mind. Her crippled hind leg ached more than usual in the cold ferocity of winter, and so she followed Itzal's nimble, bounding form slowly, wincing occasionally as the pain thrummed deep within the marrow of her bones. Minutes later, she halted by her companion's side as he crouched low to the snow, his violet eyes glittering like amethyst gems against the sparkle of the snow.
Unlike the glass-horned mare, Yseulte did not attempt to move silently through the shadows, because if it were her standing alone and bewildered in the middle of a pitch black forest surrounded by bizarrely glowing mushrooms and trees, she would certainly want prior notice before somebody came creeping up in the dark, else she'd probably gore the rotten sneaker right through the eye. And so Yseulte was sure to notify the two mares of her approach by greeting them warmly as she paced towards them slowly. "Hail, sisters." The luminescent glow washed over her face as she joined them, taking in both of their appearances in the eerily throbbing light source. She noticed the pale gray mare glancing curiously at the glowing sources. "Peculiar, aren't they?" Beautiful as well, certainly.
But in Yseulte's experience, beautiful things were often treacherous.
Compared to the two rather plain mares, Yseulte felt like a bizarrely colored circus creature, with her lavender skin, pale stripes, long silver-gold hair, and snide little tiger in tow. "My name is Yseulte," she offered at last, gazing at each woman in turn. "Welcome to Helovia. I'm from father south." The unicorn with the sparkling translucent hooves and horn possessed a pleasant face with curious markings the color of blood and she seemed familiar and confident in her surroundings, but the guttural, harsh tones of her voice suggested some foreign exoticness.
However, despite the exotic flavor of the bay unicorn, the thin gray equine's quiet simplicity intrigued Yseulte more. The equine seemed not to have faired the winter well, and Yseulte could certainly relate. Before Helovia, winter was foreign, alien concept to the desert flower. She then traced the deep gashes that crisscrossed the mare's wane face like an elaborate tapestry, not bothering to disguise the admiration apparent on her expression. What savage creature had ravaged and shredded the woman's face within an inch of her life? It was a wonder the mare wasn't blind. But those eyes were clear and hard, obviously experienced in the ways of the world and its cruelty. The stranger appeared so frail and delicate, incredibly so, but to survive such a violent attack? Clearly the equine was more than capable of fending for herself. Whatever concerns of weakness that had initially clouded Yseulte's mind vanished immediately.
When the unicorn inquired about the mare seeking a home, Yseulte leaped at the opportunity. She was a woman of action, and not one to beat around the bush. "You would be most welcome among the Valkyries. We are an independent sisterhood, free of men and the rule of kingdoms," she said simply. In the game of recruitment, you had to move quickly, else you'd be left in the dust. That had been the unicorn's first mistake: hesitating. Yseulte was all too familiar with the bitter taste of failure on her tongue as she was forced to watch the pale lord of the north whisk her recruit away into the gathering gloom. "I do not extend this invitation lightly, but I believe there is more to you than meets the eye." |
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