The room of lights has turned out to be quite the savior of a place. Food lies in here, and strange happenings – things other than the illuminated fungi. Strange but good, so far, after all the passed days have granted her a full belly and an egg nestled in her mane; Helovia hasn’t stopped twisting since the day she’d arrived.
The underworld rages below the frozen ground, meetings, war, politics, love, lust, violence…and whatever else happens when everyone is crammed into a cave. So far Tangere has managed to avoid much controversy or action in general, besides the bird who fashioned this shelled baby into her mane and learning that moss fills your belly better than nothing at all. The silver mare has literally and shamelessly fled from every questionable situation that has stumbled across her. It took her several tries to figure out about the cave – ironically it is the same place she found her first salvation and her second. First Illynx to show her the bronze unicorn and the Basin; then Gaucho who shown her the way to the caves. Both things found among the population in the Threshold, randomly, really.
And here she is. Eggbaby and all; she assumes it’s a bird like the one who gave it to her, but honestly, she has no idea what hell it could be.
When the room opens up to her it is lit with oranges and pastel blues, all very pale and dimly glowing. Bodies huddle in the corners and travel in the open, the room seems rather busy. It’s been busy for the last few days, as Tang would know because she has spent the last four days lurking among the Glowing Room’s shadows, watching and listening. She’s learned nothing…really…except survival, which is undeniably her most perfected skill. She had little in mind while listening when she did try; only wondering where her acquaintances may be among the scattered, infected and dead. She found out nothing of anyone except Abishia, who seemed to have an uncanny ability to survive as well – no matter her age and naivety.
Tangere’s silver and white pattern, broken as if in shards and pieces across her fuzzy body. Her fur is thick with the fall of snow, but not as thick as it should be come this season. The lack of sunlight and lack of cold temperatures give her an odd ‘in-between coat’, not sleek and not very long either. Simply in-between. Her mocha eyes reflect the gloss of faint light radiating from the fungus walls…and something else is illuminated with it as well.. It is lit by the flow of hot, toiling liquid rock moving behind it like a cutting through land. She approaches it, to investigate, but takes no notice of the two pegasus standing off to the side. She touches the warm symbols with the pink tip of her upper lip; it stretches over the glowing writings. She turns to the two and slicing into their quaint conversation she knows nothing of, her eyes lit with wonderment and the gleam of the room. “These are beautiful…” She whispers at them.. “Do you know who made them? Or what they mean?” These questions are cast at both of them, but really it was a question for the Gods…
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[O] Barriers of Communication [Hieroglyphs]
