Her hooves slipped on the slick, craggy surface of the blood-stained rocks, her head bobbing with each step as she placed her weight on a particularly sore leg. Dust and grime cloaked crimson and scarlet sharp against the night shadow of her bodice, yet the ruin of her body was little against the fluttering sting of her soul, wincing at the bond slowly icing over between the griffon and horse, the layer of frozen snow cracking and straining under the weight of their hot anger, a fire burning to melt the river. It seemed a shadow hankered between them, a little ghost of death, waiting for the inevitable. How could they break the bond, split their souls? What would Roshanna say? No, she would not utter a word, the daughter of the sun and goddess of dawn, born from circumstances stunning similar to Hespera's. Her tears would fall silently, sparkling diamonds glistening with the light of her passionate soul of beautiful things, and her voice would shake with a deep rage and fury for their mistakes. For they had both drove splinters into their hands, so neither of them could touch one another without a pain that would bite. Despair settled in Hespera's heart, a cold, numbing sensation that obliterated all other feelings twisting her gut, even lessening the ache of her horrific wounds. Her ears, caked in the cinnamon rust of drying blood, shredded and notched, flicked hesitantly, catching a sound in the night.

A twinge of unease drove into her heart as the gentlest klink of stone announced the presence of someone- or something. Still the stubbornly conceited mare, despite the tragedy of this night, was unafraid, her thick head unwilling to admit to the pathetic whim of mortal emotion. This is what Daermaethor had told her; do not stray from the path set for her. The tie of illeid emotion was only rocks tied to the back of a horse not knowing how to swim thrown in an ocean. He taught her how to move her legs, move through the foaming waters, but he had not taught her- nor warned her- how easy it was to slip into the actions of mere mortals. Something cool ruffles her mane, and the blinded mare leaking of her life recoils, ears slanting back in a warning.

The voice that follows is both imperious and kind, wise beyond years of counting and compels her to follow, dares her to trust the hand of friendship extended to her ruined form.

Skittish but focused, the ruin of a unicorn moves forward even more clumsily, wishing Otienu was here to help guide her with a chirp and squawk with her eyesight stolen from her. Then again, if not for Otienu she would not be in this devastating mess at all. For a moment Hespera wondered what would happen if... never mind. She shook off the thoughts bearing down on her, splintered horn wagging closely to Hellena's face without her knowledge, and then she halts abruptly, a strange coldness seeming to chill the air around the unknown and unseen mare. But desperate times call for desperate measures, as the saying goes, and she swallows the rising wariness, forcing it back down. Where is the companion who blinded her now? Had he fled, flown away in the grip of the wind, to disappear into the night sky forever? The bond between them, a frayed rope, was stretching farther and farther, his emotions becoming dimmer, the connection leaving her feeling vastly empty. Then, pulled back in, she lets free an audible sigh. "I have sinned, my lady," she murmurs, so softly it is almost out of the range of hearing. "But... thank you. Thank you." Her words strengthen, more confident.

She sends a final prayer to the gods- do not hurt Otienu.