The Spectral Marsh has a reputation, it is true, though as the weeks have gone by, I have come to call it my home. It is not particularly warm; it is not particularly appealing to look at; it does not have the smell that marks a territory as one's own. Still, it is where my brethren have chosen to reside, and though I may be less mad than many of them, I share a firm sense of duty and affection with them, and so here I am. The murky waters that threaten so close to our well-worn trail are even beginning to grow on me, though the small plops I hear every so often flash a murky, rust-red colour across my vision. It is not a pleasant colour, but nor is it an entirely unwelcome one. I suppose it would be too much to ask to escape the blood-madness that holds the rest of my family (even if that family is only Seele, and she unaware, at that), but at least mine does not drive me to unnecessary violence. In contrast, healing is my calling, and with the return of the Sun and his light, my powers have been mercifully restored.

It has been a difficult time for me, I will admit, for one does not truly understand their reliance on magic until it is taken from them. Scrapes and bruises are easily mended with herbs and rest, it is true, but what if some illness was to befall our clan? What if the war that we had so foolishly (in my opinion) joined left one of ours mortally wounded? There is only so much that I can do without the proper toolset, and should one of ours die due to my inadequacy, I would be devastated. I am not interested in having another innocent, dead soul on my conscience. As if hearing my thoughts, I note a glimmer of light blue from my right, and I take note of Liebling's shadowy form and wince. Dread settles in my chest, but I shake it off firmly; the spirits will not drive me as they drive my sister. I am my own mare, not one to leap at their beck and call. Besides, today is about healing, not killing.

A branch snaps under my hoof as I walk our well-traveled path, painting a bronze splash over the steady brown beat of my pace. Before long, I find myself in our little encampment. A trill of yellow flickers across my vision, and as it clears I realize that Liebling has gone off to wherever it is she goes when not haunting me. I smile in spite of myself at the little canary that has bravely made its way this far into our marsh, and shake my head at how ridiculous I must appear to those around me. After all, they so rarely smile at nothing; surely they assume it to simply be a part of my madness. I resist the urge to laugh, instead making my way around to look at everyone. If any need healing, I will offer my assistance; they need only make themselves known to me.

"Talk talk talk."

My vision, though overlaid with vibrant, dancing hues, is quite perfect, and as I find myself amongst those I have come to call my family, one specific mare makes herself known to me. She is of the darkest ebony save the white lines coursing over her body and the colourless strips in her banner, and I fear that her mental state is as dark as her appearance. Nay, perhaps fear is too strong a word, for I have come to realize that the afflictions my kin suffer from are not weaknesses; if anything, our respective illnesses make us stronger. We have seen more, heard more, been through more than those without our so-called disorders; as a result, we have grown closer, knit by that which has outcast us from polite society, a closer family unit by far than even those linked by blood. Even Seele and I are closer without her knowing of the ties between us.

The vocals of my clan-sister rises above the various sounds of the marsh, a dull teal, a colour of sadness. Somewhere beneath a shattered soul lies a broken heart, though it may be dulled by years of feeling nothing. But then, perhaps I analyze my colours too closely. A wingless angel, she calls me, and I almost smile at the irony: an angel who brings death upon those who are undeserving - no, I am a demon, a cat amongst the pigeons, though I suppose I hide it well enough. Light blue flickers at the edges of my vision, but I ignore Liebling's appearance as much as I can, despite the sad, swaying motion that her light brings. It is not a day of sorrow; no, I can do good here, make up for my past sins, my mistakes.

"I am who you seek, dear one," I assure her, and then I begin to sing. Power bubbles in and around me as I call forth my power, brought with the sun - oh, how wonderful it feels! How long has it been since I felt this strength, this reassurance? How long has it been since I have felt so whole? The lyrics flow forth, weaving themselves of their own accord, the only tones of my own that I can see. Teal wavers across the space between us, winding around the fae and glowing ever so slightly as it settles against her skin, reaching within and along her skin, mending her hurts - or at least the physical ones.

"Talk talk talk."

@[Circuta]