A shy creature meeting another shy creature in the night. The shaman, it seems, has no idea that her glowing has unusual contexts with it. Despite the fact that her brain functions normally, Onni is curiously dense about the strangest things. For instance, if she had seen a being approaching her that glowed with sunlight, she would assume them an angel of sorts. Instead, the humble mare carries herself as though she is completely normal, unaware that his withdrawing is caused by the ethereal like appearance of her body.

She smiles, feeling her fear disappear after the shrinking of her new company. Often, we mistake those who are harmless for monsters, when in fact, they are thinking the same of us. Perception is a mysterious thing. Onni keeps an easy expression on her face, watching his movements with pale sky-lit eyes.

The answer comes, but in no language the healer is familiar with. Her head tilts sideways, ears moving forward, a tepid frown on her face from the puzzlement of foreign words. They are soft, old sounding, sticking to the roof of her mouth. The dialect vaguely reminds her of someone, but she is unable to remember just who.
Unfortunately, no matter how pretty this foreigner's tongue, she has no idea what he is saying.

"I am sorry," the mare offers, her voice slowing to better fit his ears. He likely had no idea what she was saying either. "I do not understan-" the sound of his voice again, only more choppy, but in a language she can understand. She laughs, a little twinkle of a laugh in the night. Was crying normal? She had no idea. Onni had cried a lot lately, in the absence of the Sun. Now, he had returned, but there still rested a feeling of guilt in the pit of her stomach. Tears, they were a sign of unhappiness or supreme joy. He did not look particularly euphoric.

At least this stallion has a sense of humor. "My name is Onni," she offers, uncertain where to start with a boy who could very well only understand half of what she says. "I am a healer. I wanted to know if you were injured." The tobiano had a feeling the only injuries he possessed were internal, the cure for which she was still searching. The Illuminant would definitely be the most famous healer in the world, if she found that answer.

Beautiful. Had Onni ever been called beautiful, even if it was just her name? Kri surely never told her daughter, though what lived within the Resolute's heart was likely obvious to the observer. Well, so long as the observer is not Onni. The painted girl is charmed for a moment, uncertain of how to respond. Deciding it would be best to ignore the compliment for now by averting her eyes, remembering suddenly that she had done much the same to Kaj's compliments.
Yes, modest Onni had never been good with such pleasant words for her.

In the sky, Lyhty trills out unhappily, coming to soar next to his painted friend's shoulder, flaring with small, beaded eyes out at this stranger. The songbird was always jealous when stallions paid attention to his bonded, not wishing to hand the kindly shaman off to suspicious males so easily. Settling upon her wing, the bird lets out another disgruntled chill before Onni quiets him with a nuzzle.

Her face turns back in time to capture a shy smile upon the boy's face, the whisper of his name leaving a foreign feel. Still, a pleasant little smile regards him, nodding with acceptance of the title. "Carnesîr," she repeats a touch uncertainly, not wanting to butcher the elegant sounding name. Certainly, this fellow is not as simple as she. "A pleasure to meet you, sir."

Watching his reactions closely after the mention of injury, the healer sees no obvious sign of him giving hints toward ailment. The fluid sounding words spill forth again, causing her poll to tilt up slightly to regard his eyes once more, beads woven in her mane clinking together for a brief moment, the sound of wind upon water. Thankfully, he translates. The shaman finds it strange he would thank her for her worries. Is it not natural to wish to heal when you are gifted with such an ability? Perhaps, this was not the case where he is from.

No wounds, least no blood. A sad smile forms now, one of recognition and understanding. A pain of the heart, something she could not cure, much like she suspected. "Time will probably be the remedy for those," a quiet voice but calm. The mare does no pry, seeking entry into his soul and mind, for the shaman thought he would share if he wished. Otherwise, whatever shadows lingered on his heart were not of her business.

His next statement catches her attention, dual chocolate ears perking forward from waves of gold and ivory, light blue eyes slightly widened for a moment of confusion, until she remembers by seeing the gleam against his own eyes and horn. "Oh," followed shortly by another laugh, soft and drifting, before she gathers her words again. "The Sun gifted me with some of his light." A foreigner probably would not know of the deity of which she spoke, but the sun is universal, is it not? If anything, Carnesîr would understand the Sun.

Quite surprised again, by this younger boy and his interest in her. The tobiano has no idea how to respond, for she had approached him with wishes to better his injuries, unable to do so. The mare wondered if she really wished to know this stallion, who so earnestly wished to know her. You should just leave him, Onni, the bird says to her from her shoulder, glowering at her. He not worth your time. Turning her head to face the small songbird, the shaman gives him a patient look before returning to her company. Fortunately, Onni need not worry about how to proceed, his voice plunging forward at each opportunity before she can gather her words.

It leaves a smile in her sky blue eyes, gentle and attentive.
He was lively, certainly.

The shaman tries to keep all of his questions in mind as she ponders them separately, wishing to prepare the best possible answer for each, as they seem much more deep than a stranger should produce. Counting to four, she smiles again, slipping out an easy, "It's alright." Do you think the stars are lost souls? The tobiano remembers her discussion with Sparrow on this very beach, when she had just lost many friends. Their spirits, she thought, were the wind, but then Moth appeared before her again, did he not? Kri, she believed the stars were their ancestors, Onni remembered, their spirits on display. The shaman herself had never thought of it.

"I know very little about the stars," she says honestly. "I would like to think a lost soul would find refuge somewhere." Why not a star?

The second question felt more like her area, for if anyone could emphasize the ability to lose a home, it was Onni. The Cliffs gone, the Islands overrun by the dead, and her current home invaded recently - what is home? "I believe your heart guides you home, wherever that may be," earnest, even, yet still thoughtful. The shaman wondered if her answers would be helpful to whatever his cause may be. "As the wills of your heart change, so will your journey."

She laughs then, thinking of his third question. "But I have no earthly idea why we cry," the healer sounds almost ashamed that it could be medical and she would have no idea. "Crying eases the weight on my chest when I am hurting." To feel better, then? Would that be the reason? That would be the personal reason, but not necessarily why tears stream down our faces.

"When you betray yourself or your loved ones, you are a coward in that moment," I say, thinking back to the words of the Sun God again, when he had spoken to me about the stallion who injured Cera. To forgive is difficult, but to spill blood is easy. "It is difficult to be brave in this world."

"Is it my turn now?"


[ herps oh god this was so long sorry ]

The night goes on, and the stars twinkle above the pair. Onni cannot help but notice the light show above, now that the stars had stumbled their way into the conversation. How is it that the shaman landed herself here? The willingness to aid a comrade in need, but strange that it would be this fellow. Someone so new, unfamiliar with the lands and her history. Someone who knew not of the evils plaguing this land yet, the lines drawn between the herds. Refreshing, wonderful, and also sort of sad. The Illuminant enjoyed this new company, but wished he would leave before Helovia ruined him like it had her own heart.

Despite being kissed by the sun, dark spots had found their way into her soul. Shadow lurks here, in these lands, and the Endless Night was just a showing of how much darkness they could hold.

The little songbird on her wing is obviously unhappy with the way this meeting has gone. At first, his beloved friend had been wary of this newcomer, but now her posture relaxed, her smile grew more genuine. The lady of light becomes familiar with this foreigner, much like she does with all she would call friends. Lyhty is especially jealous because even if Onni is blindly unaware, he notices the way the young stallion's eyes watch her. A will to monopolize, but the bird simply will not have it. Unfortunately, he is trapped; the small little finch could protest and get chided, or remain unfriendly and grumpy on her wing.
Unfriendly and grumpy it would be.

Onni finds it interesting that despite his small vocabulary, Carnesir manages to make artful imagery. The shaman had been speaking this language all her life, yet had not quite managed a paintbrush for a tongue. The stars come to life, and the wind is suddenly noticeable around her. The souls dance to life as he speaks of them. A happy thought. If only it were true that our loved ones never disappeared.

Pale blue eyes notice as the stallion shrinks back from her description of a coward, almost as if he were accusing himself. The healer feels badly about this, but cannot make herself move to comfort him. The former warrior had felt a bit like a coward herself lately, standing in no higher ground to offer him refuge. Instead, she waits for his eyes to rise again, watching with interest the fluctuation of his movements, his demeanor. A mystery, this young boy is, so full of angst and emotion much like she was in her earlier youth. Alone, wandering, separated from her home and family, Onni had grown up to be a rather tumultuous child. A miracle that her nature is so delicate, considering all that has happened.

A pure heart is hard to taint, but it occurs despite our best wishes. We can run from reality, but only for so long, before it begins to catch up to us.

Your turn, melda heri. Head cocking upward to the sky, the painted girl wonders what she should ask about, a twist of her lips to show thoughtful consideration. What did she wish to know about, at least from his perspective? What had she never been able to answer?

"What does it mean, to be in love?" she asks, thinking how many times she had pondered that duriing her time spent with Moth, unable to ever find a suitable answer. "What is the cause of violence?" An evil heart? Heartache? A troubled mind? More than anything, the healer wanted to know.

Then, smiling, the healer thinks of such a simple question. Pedestrian, common. A question, though, that loomed in her mind this whole time:
"Where do you hail from?"

Onni awaits his response of love eagerly, for the girl has little experience in romance. She had been exposed to the word, heard it whispered many times, felt her heart beat at the thought of it, but not ever pinned down what it was or what it meant. Though she did not know it, Onni is a child born for the purpose to die. The ambition of her mother and the thoughtless loyalty of her father brought the girl of splashes white and chocolate here. The only reason she stands is the love of her mother, yet that is not the romantic kind girls have dreams about.

The throb of a heart, the passion, the deep emotions of it all; the shaman is clueless, more a child than the boy standing before her, despite how aged she feels in spirit.

So many tragedies painted her history, so many heartbreaks, but none of them for lovers. The blush of love had been born in her soul, but the poor girl had been too naive to realize the emotion. Too naive to realize what sits before her.

Rapt, ears pointed in attention, eyes drawn in silent focus, piqued with interest at his words, the mare listens. Onni listens and considers, tries to place the feelings he paints inside her heart, inside her memories, trying to feel where this may be. The souls she missed so desperately during their absence, the souls she had been so joyous to welcome home - the Sun. Confused, the shaman is fairly certain she is not in love with the deity. Surely, she missed his absence, but this would be more like the absence of her mother or Voltaic. A father figure. Then, there would be her beloved friend Moth.
Moth. Her lips dig into a frown, eyes dropping to the sand. The appearance of his face in her memories. The outline of flowers, deep red and pink.
Her frown deepens.

Finally, the mare understands the flowers.
Could her heart miss him more than it already did?

Drifting back upward at the passion of Carnesîr's voice, Onni's eyes look distant, slightly so, but she tries to obtain the same focus, not wanting to spill her troubles onto this stallion. This stallion she did not know. The painted girl listens, hoping that he understands better than she the dark tendencies of others. He comes up, ultimately, with an indefinite answer, the same she would draw. This time, the glowing beauty smiles, for now she knows that he has a gentle soul. He is no murderer, no invader, no thief. No one trying to hurt her family or her heart. "My soul is not that pure," the girl says with a deflecting laugh, not wishing to accept whatever compliment he was trying to give. "Impossible to remain such in a world like ours."
Surely, he would understand. Everyone has regrets. Everyone has evil in them.

The description of his home sounds surreal, but understandable. Beautiful woods filled with beautiful things, but also filled with forked tongues and false aspirations. The painted girl thinks that this place would be much the same, only more straightforward about the horrors. Kri would absolutely abhor whatever place Carnesîr was from. Onni just wanted to find a place without evils and war, but the best she could manage is to say in the light by her loved ones' sides.

Then, she hears it, like a sudden gust of wind trying to knock her over. ...live in north valley. Many unicorns... Her eyes widen, from surprise, from sudden fear, unable to move from where she is standing. Did he mean the Basin? All of the words they had spent, the chitchat, the way she had allowed her guard to slip before him. Suddenly, she wants to flee, move, break away from this conversation and run home. Lyhty begins to chirp uneasily, twiddling with her mane from his perch upon her wing, his gaze disrupted from the face of the stallion with the sudden lurch of emotions.

At the sensation of touch, it is not the shaman who responds first, but her songbird, his small beak seeking the soft muzzle with violent intent, pecking as much as his tiny frame can manage. Finally, legs regain their sense of movement, and the shaman breaks away, stepping backward, pulling the little finch with her, sidestepping to look at Carnesîr with wide, awakened eyes.

"Your new home seeks to pull angels from the sky and tear off their wings," she says, her voice very even, slow, hoping he will understand despite the fact he is not fluent in their language. Her face felt hot, flushed, despite the glow that would not dim or desist. "Will you become one of them, Carnesîr?"

An artist, unintentionally. An artist with fumbling words in a language he half understands. An artist with expressive eyes and gestures. There is something so passionate and mesmerizing in every single breath of this stranger, yet in light of his new home, Onni grows afraid. Fearful of the hatred which may grow into those fluid eyes. Fearful of the feeling of a horn cutting her flesh like it had so many times before. Fearful of the words which might fall from his mouth if he remains with them. More so than anything, the shaman does not want to lose this strangely delicate creature to a world of darkness.

She had never been north. The only members of the Basin she had spoken to were Mauja and the ShadowKing from the invasion. Both had their fair share of evils. Both had committed sins against her family, whether she knew it or not. Still, this fear rises from the same primal thoughts and feelings she had during the night of battle. That utter loss, the helplessness.
Onni is drowning.

Her pale eyes watch him, the expressions on his face raw and open. No matter the case, Carnesîr is honest. The painted girl knows this. It is not this Carnesîr that the girl shies away from, for he is but a gentle artist who is interesting and kind. It is the future, what could become of his pearly white horn. What would become of his soul? Understanding and confusion blooms on his face in waves, as her words make sense, but do not seem to fit his knowledge. A moment of clarity followed by denial. Onni knows that he is aware.
He has seen this violent hatred in one of is new comrades.
He must have, to be making that face.

Unknowingly, her legs are still backing away, drawing space between them as he ponders. The sound of her heart beating against the cage of her chest reflects in her ears. Lyhty chirping angrily at the stallion, fluttering about in the air between them, his small voice angry. No upsetting Onni! he cries, but the poor boy cannot hear him.

A foreign word, quickly followed by the translation. Without thought, Onni's movement stops. Commanded to stay still by a boy less than half her age - Kri would be disappointed. His words, choked, imploring to her, but the healer just averts her gaze toward the swirling patterns painted in the sands by his hooves. How can you tell someone so kind that his new family is filled with murderers, invaders? How can you share with him the knowledge of racism, when he clearly has no understanding of such a thing? Why must others be violent?

Hopeless, uncomfortable, the shaman wishes to disappear. She could, very easily, dissipate into the wind she was born from and flee, yet her heart has stayed. Carnesîr is a friend; there is nothing more that need be said. "One of my sisters," her voice soft but distant, "returned home missing one of her wings." Africa. The frightened grey mare who appeared so desperately empty and terrified of the world, she had touched Onni's heart in the saddest ways. "Not long after that, the sky went dark." The beginning of the Endless Night, not that he would know.

"Recently, unicorns from the North marched on my home," sky eyes stay focused very clearly on the sand, seeing the gashes through the swirls made from his hooves. Looking up through pale lashes, shy, uneasy, trying to gauge his expression. "Another of my herd got knocked from the sky."

"Even I garnered new scars," a quiet voice, maybe lost over the sound of the surf breaking against the sand.
"Why does anyone turn to violence?"

Gathering strength, the shaman steps closer to Carnesîr, gently reaching out her muzzle toward his shoulder. After such a dramatic shift in conversation and tone, the mare felt responsible for collapsing the warm feeling of their company. Speaking of such misfortunes, such ill events, had never been her intention. "I am sorry, Carnesîr."

What had the Endless Night been? The explanation had been the absence of the Gods - very specifically the Lord of the Light. There is more than can possibly be explained to her new friend about the night, more stories than she has words to tell. The night had been a spiritual absence for her, one that tested her heart and spirit to the very limits. Not a normal night, which she already feared greatly. It had been an abnormally difficult absence of even the starlight. What had it been?
Hell, Onni imagined. Absolute hell.

"Suddenly a pitch black engulfed the earth," she explains, her voice quiet, thinking back to the moment she had met Kahlua. "The shadows covered even the stars in the sky. The Sun did not return for months." Months spent alone in the dark, praying for his safe return. The heart of the sun shaman earned for the light, if not for the mentor she had found in the sunkissed deity. "The Gods had left this world."

Would Carnesîr understand? Onni wondered about this. Surely, even in his original home, there had been an idea of gods, divine beings. He spoke of angels, but the mare thought perhaps he just associated this word with winged beings, for she is certainly no angel, despite the golden glow of her coat. Still, the words she had spoken before appear to trouble him, reinforcing her lack of divinity. The Sun God had soothed the worries in her heart instead of inflaming them. If she had any business with calling herself a healer, she would do no unwarranted damage. Carnesîr is her friend, or, at least, she would like him to be.

The pooling of emotions between them tells the mare that if they are not friends, they have gone well past the level of strangers. Knowing that he belongs in the North with the unicorns who attacked her home makes her worry, yet not out of fear that he is dangerous. The shaman is not angry, nor repulsed, just worried. If he sought to escape war, the Basin is not the safehouse he should seek. Still, the shaman cannot tell him to flee and join her within the Dragon's Throat - not with Kri as leader. War, it seems, has permeated every land in Helovia. Despite that, are there not still peaceful souls within them?

Do you pray? he asks, and owlishly the girl blinks, finding her eyes dewy from the stress of the moment. "Yes," she answers quite earnestly, her voice heavy. "I pray to the Sun." A smile on her lips at the thought of the Golden God, his angelic face and powerful eyes. Of course, Carnesîr would likely have no idea of the Sun God, nor his siblings. Onni herself had only met two of the deities - her beloved Sun and the Time God, his gruffly honest brother. Taking a step back, Onni turns toward the direction of the glowing blue island in the distance. Her wing points outward, in the direction of the dim blue light radiating in the night.

"The Veins of the Gods," she says, her eyes bright with animation at the thought of the Island, "lies to the east. The lava there pulses with blue light." Looking back toward Carnesîr, the painted girl smiles easily. "There are four Gods within Helovia. The God of Light and Fire, the God of Earth and Water, the God of Wind and Night, and the God of the Spark and Time."

"They are beings cast from their elements, each patron of a land. It is fairly obvious who oversees my own home."

Silence dwelled in the creases of his face, and Onni knew that her words would make no sense to him. The gods were not easily described nor explained, much less in a strange language. Unfortunately, even his teacher was lacking in ability to tell beautiful stories. Her tongue was not that of a word-crafter, never had been. That modesty which reigned in her personality also found itself in her voice; perhaps, this is one thing that Onni would never share with her mother.

Glancing at the stallion with curious eyes, it is obvious that the issue upon his mind is not cleared. Though she is a deep follower of the Sun, Onni did not have a recommendation on where to find peace. Even the Veins of the Gods, meant for prayer of closeness, had been disruptive and emotional on her last visit. Were he a follower of the same light and fire, the mare might, despite her better judgment, bring him back to the Throat to pray in front of the brilliant white flames. That option, however, would likely be met with an angry mother and her poor new friend getting kicked in the ass.

Helovia had no areas of sanctuary and silence that she had found, even in the crushing darkness. There is no escaping hatred and violence in this world, but the best you can do is not to succomb to the same evils of the heart. Strength, whatever that means, comes from your resistence to these forces. Unfortunately, Carnesir did not appear particularly hardened to this world yet, and the Illuminant could do nothing for him.

When a voice finally cracks from the statue of her friend, the tobiano glances at him with wide blue eyes. He was... leaving? She thinks, wanting to urge him to stay. Instead, the mare just nods dumbly, not wanting to deny him a kindness she could easily give. The first day of Tallsun would be the arrival of the Sun God's beloved season; of course, she would greet him at the Veins on that day. Likely, whether or not he showed, the painted girl would be there.

In her heart, Onni prays her new friend will arrive safely to meet her.