[OOC | This thread takes place pre-invasion.]

There was a certain feeling around the Aurora Basin; the shade could not quite put her hoof on it, but the very air seemed stagnant and dull as she breathed it in each morning, the moon's light dim and uninspiring as she wandered through her sunless days. It was with an uneasy, restless, resentful feeling that she took to roaming the cavernous labyrinths that meandered through the mountains surrounding her home, daringly exploring deeper and deeper, the soul-light wound possessively in her mane a guide through the trenches, as it were. She had, at first, been a bit put off by the thought of a dead soul riding along in her banner, but as time wore on, she had grown affectionate of the light, which seemed to cling tightly to the strands of hair regardless of weather conditions. Would it leave eventually? Perhaps. But until then, she would enjoy the metaphorical warmth that it provided.

It was a particularly dull morning, as the moon had chosen to veil her face behind a rather thick blanket of clouds that hinted at rain. The shadow-mare emerged from a cave by the mouth of the valley, in which she spent many a night watching the comings and goings of the land, and made her way lazily to the hot springs. Birdsong had arrived, or some darkened semblance of it; though she could not see the colors of the blossoms beneath her hooves, there was a new spring to the ground that had come with the disappearance of the crunch of snow. Perhaps another would revel in the warmer weather, but the shade found herself particularly unimpressed. She was a wintry creature, by nature cold and aloof, and so while others rejoiced with the coming of spring and new life and all of those wonderful beginnings, her mood grew darker and surlier.

The hot springs were really unnecessary at this time of year, for warmer weather brought a much milder climate even to the far north. It would never be the desert, a fact for which she was eternally grateful, but nor was it the frozen wasteland that accompanied the cold winter months. Still, she approached the warm waters with a certain feeling of affection in her breast, for, after all, this was all hers, and she was rather proud of her things. She was pleased with her herd, though she could wish darker thoughts upon many of them; she was pleased with her land, despite the bone-chilling snows that it brought upon them every now and again. It was an odd mixture of emotions, really: the dark, moody restlessness that accompanied spring and the pride in those whom she led. And so she gazed, unseeing, into the water, absently watching the glowing soul in her mane as it danced in a slight breeze.

@[Ruka]

[W/C | ---]

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Walk walk walk.
"Talk talk talk."
Think think think.