I must have napped for a while, for when I next open my eyes, my thoughts are clouded with colours that could not possibly have come from my surroundings. A certain darkness pervades my former peace, and I take a deep breath to steady myself. Of course, on a day as lovely as today, I would find myself in the midst of a nightmare! A long sigh falls from my lips as I close my eyes again, willing my heart to slow its pace, forcing my mind to fall into order again. The colours, the brilliant red of violence and the darkest black of death, are but memories, of that I am sure; for it has been so long since they found their way into my waking hours that I ought not be surprised to see them intruding on my sleep.

At least their shapes do not come back to haunt me. Not today.

My lids lift, revealing my pupil-less violets to the lovely blue sky, my fitful sleep all but forgotten in the beauty of the day. Calmer hues are stroking my retinas now, taking the place of the more vibrant splashes from my nightmares. A gentle salmon caresses a baby blue; a finch and a robin - no, two robins - bickering back and forth over their respective territories. My orbs flit upward, watching. I assume that they are both males, as robins defend territory as a mated pair. I wonder where the mate is, and consider the possibility that the eggs have hatched, and she is off finding food. It feels quite early in the breeding season, but I suppose more time may have passed than I had bargained for in those gods-forsaken caves.

One of the robins flitters to a nearby tree, the other male jumping a few branches over, his wings flared and his chest puffed out in defense. A small smile played across my lips as I watch the challenger's obvious dismay. "Better luck next time," I call softly, startling the pair. The challenger leaps into the air and away; the defender disappears into the branches, rustling leaves in a splash of green. I chuckle, shaking my head - and then my gaze lights on our Czar, and I freeze. How fitting that he would stumble across my talking to birds that can't understand our language, like a truly insane individual. I may see colours, and I may have ghosts - but there are those in our Asylum that are far crazier than I.

In any case, I find myself unable to look away. I tilt my head curiously, my gaze falling along the muscled lines of him, wondering just what kind of pegasus has a such a pure, gold voice. I long to see the rise and fall of my song, to see if it can match his perfect hue - of course, he would need to be injured for that to happen, and I desperately hope that I will never need to heal our leader. He is handsome, standing in the trees like that. "Hello," I say finally, fidgeting slightly in an uncomfortable silence. Does he assume me to be like the others, so far gone in their own unique afflictions to find him an outsider? Or would he be so kind as to give me the chance to prove that we are not all bad?

"Talk talk talk."

Despite the long silence, the time we spend watching one another is not awkward, and I find my eyes drawn along the muscular lines of his painted body, the golden tips of his wings. I find myself wondering what it must be like to have wings, to be able to soar through the skies and skim along the tops of the clouds. I wonder if he ever fights the urge to climb higher and higher, drawn like Icarus to the sun, curious and afraid of its brilliant light and warmth. I decide that he probably does not have such urges, our Czar - for he, unlike the rest of us, does not fight those silly mental battles. He is probably quite happy to be alive, probably desires nothing more than to stay so - and to taunt the great orb in the sky would do little to prolong his life.

We, on the other hand, enjoy our dance with destiny.

I notice that his eyes are pure gold, pupil-less, like mine. Does he spend the silence looking me over, taking in the gently curving musculature, the enticing way my banner falls along my nape, the small half-smile gracing my lips? Without the cues that the darker center of an eye give, it is difficult to follow his line of sight. Is this how it is when others look at me? Do they often wonder what I am thinking, what I am feeling, where I am looking, all because they are missing the subtle movements and dilations of those insignificant little dots?

I blink as he stammers in response to my greeting, the half-smile stretching into a small, ladylike grin. I lower my gaze, watching him from under my lashes, the picture of the demure female. Ah, how lovely and pure his voice is! I have never seen such a brilliant shade of gold flare upon my retinas. "You aren't interrupting anything," I assure him. "In fact, I would enjoy the company."

"Talk talk talk."

His voice is brilliantly gold, and I bask for a moment with the slightest of smiles on my maw. Again I find myself wondering about this stallion - who he is and how he has come to attain such a pure colour - and again I allow violet orbs to roll appreciatively over the broad expanse of his muscular chest, across the feathery softness of his wings. "My name is Reizend," I say, my vocals gentle and demure. I almost add, half-sister to Seele, but I remember myself at the last moment. No one here knows of the tie that I have to our dear Czarina, and for the time being, I must keep it that way. If I am to reveal myself to her, it must indeed be to Seele, not to her co-leader. And I must endear myself to her first - a feat which, sadly, I have done little to accomplish.

I wonder when I became so complacent.

Ah, but it is so easy here, standing with a handsome stallion and enjoying the beauty of Birdsong. Or, rather, it has been easy - but at this moment, a rosy hue flits into existence at the edge of my vision, and it is only the easy recognition of the colour that saves me from flinching. Ah, Verletzt, Mother dearest, why must you choose this moment to join me? It has been so very long since I have seen any of you. I am not in danger, I am not angry, I am not afraid - so why have you come to stand to my left, a still, calm shape exuding a certain warmth that I do not understand? You have always been my guide, but I am not in need of your assistance this day - am I?

Only the smallest of moments has passed since my introduction, and I force myself to ignore Verlatzt to add, "I am a healer. I followed Seele to this land." The last is a bit more explanation than necessary, and I hope that I do not scare him off with the implications of my words. To follow Seele is to be a member of the Asylum - and to be a member of the Asylum is to be mad. And although I may be abnormal, I do not find myself to be deranged or insane, not like the others. No, I am their healer, their psychologist, and I cannot afford to be as careless as my peers.

"Did you know that your voice is gold?" I blurt suddenly.

Verlatzt stomps her hoof reproachfully.

So much for sanity.

"Talk talk talk."

"Then thee is a member of the Asylum, to perhaps heal those inflicted?"

Oh, my dear sir, if only you knew.

I return his broad grin, for he seems not to care one way or the other if I am cursed with insanity or not, though my own smile is a bit more demure, accompanied with a downward cast of the eyes. There is something about carefree flirting that sets my mind, for the moment, at ease, though Verlatzt is a bit of annoyance at the edge of my vision, like an irritating gnat that simply won't go away. "You could say that," I agree, a slight wickedness worming its way into my features. It isn't a harmful sort of mischief, but rather an enticement, a promise of fun and good times if we are to continue down this interesting road.

I laugh aloud at his response to my outburst, relieved to find that the strangeness of my remark has seemed to have no effect on him. A slight hiss warns me that his companion, a small, fiery bird, is not quite so enamored with me (or, perhaps, it is simply bored, and wishes to spend its afternoon aloft - and one can hardly blame it for that). I ignore it, though, confident that the golden boy has control over the creature. "I must admit," I say, amused, "I'm quite sure that no one has paid me such a compliment." I wink, shifting my weight slightly and relaxing into his presence. Though we've yet to touch, I find myself grounded, for the moment, by his very aura, and I find it quite enjoyable to bask in the beauty of his tones.

I wonder if he is as lovely an individual as his voice suggests.

In any case, I am debating whether or not I should expand on my odd comment when he next speaks, this time to inquire as to the meaning behind my pendant. I glance down, as though to look at it (though when it is hanging around my neck, I can't crane my neck in such a way as to see it), surprised at the attention to detail. In my admittedly limited experience, males do not generally pick up on such intricacies. I am immediately bombarded with memories - memories that I do not care to linger over, for they are accompanied by emotion, and emotion is my undoing. I swallow, lowering my gaze again. This time, it is not flirtation, but avoidance, for my sadness has only served to feed the coloured silhouette that is Verletzt - my mother. She is more apparent than ever now, and she watches me with soft eyes. I miss her, and I am surprised by it, as always.

She was the first of the souls to haunt me; she is the only one who attempts to guide me. The smile on her face lends me courage, and I wonder if she is insinuating something about the steed before me. Should I trust him? Or is it worth it to offer such a thing to a Czar that I cannot possibly swear allegiance to over my half-sister? "It was a gift," I say, my voice softer now, and perhaps a bit nostalgic. Verlatzt led me to the trinket, though she did so after her untimely demise. I wonder if she is gesturing to Midas for a similar reason - if he will be useful to me, and if so, will it be for only a short time, or will I have his companionship for a longer term? I cannot help but hope for the latter. "My mother gave it to me, and it allows me to keep her close. It's a sun," I add as clarification, "and it glows in different colours when I heal." I don't know why I tell him all of it, but something about him makes it easy.

I shouldn't trust him - and yet, somehow, I do.

"Talk talk talk."

@[Midas]
[OOC | Sorry for the wait!

Where I come from, worship of the gods was never as important as pleasing Schwere, and I never managed to do that quite as well as Seele. I was always just a little too kind, a little too lacking in bloodlust - and in the end, that was the difference between my sister and I. He chose her over me, and I can't say that I ever envied her his favour. Still, past gods or no, I have learned that it is always better to respect those with more power than myself. You may call it self-interest or self-preservation or whatever you will. I don't particularly care, but I certainly have it in abundance. My powers come from the light, so I suppose one could say that I worship the Sun. In reality, I worship whoever has the ability to kill me with a look.

But, that is neither here nor there.

The sun amulet is the closest thing I have to any deity, and it was my mother that led me to it, so I tend to associate it more closely with her. When I remember my mother, I remember kindness. She had her problems, of course (don't we all?), but she always made it very clear that she loved me, that she would care for me, that she would try to protect me. I learned from her how to feel, how to care, how to heal - not in terms of magic, but in terms of the mind. She supported me when there was no one else, and she took me from my father when he was at his worst. I have never been alone with her memory in my heart.

"No, she isn't," I respond softly, lowering my gaze to disguise the emotion running through me. Despite my mother's best efforts, I have not been able to become fully comfortable with showing my sadness. Tears, I have always felt, are weakness, and I prefer not to flaunt mine, abundant though it may be. I shed no tears today, but it is clear that I miss my mother and her wisdom all the same. "I wish she was, but we must all face our time eventually. She is still with me, after all," I add with a small, sad smile, gently tapping the sun amulet with my chin.

"Talk talk talk."

@[Midas]
[OOC | Sorry for the wait!

It is rare that I feel true kinship with anyone - I have kept myself sealed off from the world, a product of my father's mocking hatred, a result of constantly feeling as though I was too weak, or too stupid, or too something. Why else would he push my so hard, punish my so harshly, hate me so strongly? And even if I did allow myself to love, to care - what good would it do? My mission in this life is clear: I must earn my half-sister's trust and affection, as far as Seele can feel those things. Emotion will only get in the way. But despite the walls I have built around my soul, I find myself reaching for the painted stallion in heartfelt sympathy. The loss of one's parents is not an easy thing, nor one that is easily forgotten. "Meine sorgen für ihr," I murmur sadly, hoping that he will allow my muzzle to brush his.

I wonder what he was like as a child, before the pain and suffering of life marred his innocence. I can almost imagine a spindly-legged colt, eager and excited about the world. I wonder how old he was when he learned that there are no fairy tales, no knights in shining armor; that the universe was a vicious, uncaring place with no ability or desire to distinguish between those who deserved punishment and those who did not. I wonder if the shattering of his illusions left him better or worse than he was before, if he was angry or accepting of the injustice of it all, if he acted out of necessity or some desire to make things better. I wonder if he really believes he can.

I hope that he does. I hope that his golden voice is an indication of character, a glimpse into the soul of one who is truly still pure, who has not allowed the world to taint him and turn him into a sour old man who trusts no one and loves nothing. I hope that his kindness is no mere facade, that perhaps he is exactly what he appears to be. I hope, and I hate myself for it, for I do not look forward to being disappointed. His muzzle brushes mine gently, and I let out a soft sigh. It is a simple gesture, but one that my mind reacts to with a wild rush of warmth and comfort and joy.

"No," I respond, shaken from my musings by that lovely golden tone spinning like thread before my eyes. "I was born somewhere quite far away. I traveled here after my parents died, looking for my sis-" I stop suddenly, glancing upward as though to see if he caught my mistake. How idiotic of me to let my guard down, to allow him to permeate so deeply into my soul, into my wants and desires and dreams. I look away, gathering my flustered thoughts in what I hope is a collected manner. "Looking for something," I amend. And then, softly: "But I don't think I'm going to find it." A pause, a shake of the head, a coy smile and a wink - "Even so, I do believe I will stay, especially if such handsome stallions keep cropping up."

"Talk talk talk."
[Meine sorgen für ihr. :: My sorrows for yours.]

@[Midas]

I wonder what he has felt and why it has not come to taint him. Life is difficult - to believe anything else is to believe in a lie - and it mutilates honor and destroys courage. It saps away your faith and your strength and your innocence. I do not believe that the stallion before me is purely perfect or perfectly pure, but he is something beyond the normal individual.

I easily turn away his advances, his questions, for though I doubt he meant to pry, I am uncomfortable divulging so much of myself to him. No, that isn't it - I am uncomfortable with the sudden desire to let him in, to show him past the wall that I have built, the story that I hide behind. I am afraid of the allure of his vocals, ashamed by the ease with which I consider confiding in him when I have yet to tell my own sister that we are blood, have yet to admit to my wrongs and place myself before the jury to be punished. Every instinct I have tells me that he will not judge me, will not hold my past against me - but every intelligent thought in my mind disagrees. Who accepts murder, even the accidental sort? Who would ever tell me that it was okay, that I didn't mean to, that they understand?

He surprises me, the stallion of gold, with his offer to pray for me. My experience with the gods is limited - I am a believer, as everyone in this land must be, with their gods so present and reachable; but I haven't had any quality time with any of them, have only heard stories and seen the effects of their touch. I haven't even seen any of them myself. Still, the offer is touching, and I smile warmly. "I would appreciate that, Midas, truly. Thank you."

"Talk talk talk."

Tag :: @[Midas] - Merp, we can finish this at any time, I know I'm taking forever!