Time seemed to change everything here in the caves, day and night blurring together like an inconsistent painting of our lives. We had become lost within the depths of our own minds, wondering what had become of those fallen to the darkness, where they still breathing, thinking, and feeling as we are. Motioning through crowds of mixed races, and yet there is that obvious loneliness, that ache in our hearts for having survived. Hoof beats silenced, as the obsidian knight found himself once again in the dim lit room whose ceilings were painted in myth, stories of our supposed past.

Should he have had the ability to paint upon these walls, he would have casted the fear of the darkness over the stick figures of equine, drawing a circle of hope representing the caves, and a symbol for each race that dwelled within. And outside of this circle, he would have shown a unicorn fighting a demon, carrying it back within the hollow caves, and throwing it into a pool of liquid to symbolize victory and healing. But no one but him and the demon would know who those two characters represented, no one would understand the battle that had taken place only weeks ago.

Cast out from darkness, the demon had fallen, and to emerge from this acidic liquid would be his beautiful daughter. Figures drawn in an embrace, revealing true happiness, the feeling of knowing all you had was almost lost. Vivid oculars gazed away from the ceiling, He couldn’t be more regretful for having laid hand to his daughter, but at the same time is the only thing that saved her life. She was breathing, recovering takes to his emotional effort to cast out the sickness.

Through the crowded room, the unicorn moved through offering each a solemn glance, searching for a friendly face. And off to the side, in a dimmed corner, the curved physique of Quinn stood gazing upon the painted wall. He wondered how she was doing, since their last encounter here, where he was distraught, broken and empty. Maybe she would notice, the light had returned to his eyes. She was whispering something to herself, the only words he had caught were; Only her head remained white, as a sign of the purity that once lived within. She went down into the great hall, her eyes clouded by hurt and anger, and as the doors closed behind her, not a word was uttered. Guards found her the next day, imprisoned in a glass cage and by her side, her lover in his.

The way she held herself after she finished her story, seemed to be an emotional one. Stepping forth from the crowded shadows, the stallion appeared horizontal at her side.

"Such a fine story." He spoke with medium tones, not wanting to point out the obvious on how depressing it sounded. "How are things Quinn?" He inquired, gazing upon her pale face and vivid blue eyes.

@[Quinn]

Nato