DRAGOMIR

That she seems not only interested but highly curious in his projects is nice, bolstering his ego in ways that didn’t usually happen for the young stallion. It wasn’t that he necessarily lacked confidence in his craft or the theories that circulated in his head, it was nice to know that others help enthusiasm to mirror his own when discussing the confines and extremities of magic. He supposes he shouldn’t be that surprised – Semira was raised in the Edge, after all, likely having seen many Glaziers pass through the misty wood, each with their own talents and love for their home, and surely the sight of the glass reminds the girl of her home as it will forever remind him of the cliffs bordering the sea, the glass wall and the woman who built it.

The bright tones of her words wash over him, head bobbing in agreement that the thinner glass was far less complex than that which could withstand blows. She asks about color, and a second nod replies yes, he has utilized color in a project, his mind recalling the harness he’d made for Kahlua and the way the flowers had tinted the glass surrounding them. There were a couple he had back home in his clearing that had too deeply absorbed the color of the petals, loosing the translucent sparkle he had been aiming for in the piece; perhaps he could show Semira when they returned, if she was interested in such things.

When she asks about sound, however, his ears rise and his face turns to her with a new interest burning in its depths, the idea of a musical object having entirely escaped his thoughts. "I don’t know much about sound," he admits aloud, pondering the idea of an instrument that a beginner in the field of music could accomplish, "though I imagine the density of the object has something to do with the notes it makes, along with over-all size. It would be a good project to practice thinning techniques, to be sure." He’s only guessing, but he’s been in enough caves to know that the smaller ones echoed more loudly than large ones, and struck enough rocks to know that pumice sounded totally different than slate.

She returns to Hellena, describing the mare and drawing from him a silent and ponderous state as he walks through the fields, having only been to one meeting under Mirage and quietly shuffling through the faces that had been there. He recalled Aaron, his fellow Glazier, Alysanne and Resplendence, the gardeners, Destrier, the missing soldier, among numerous others he had no names for. When he really sat down to thinking about it, Semira’s father had been there as well…

But there had been no pale unicorn with an aura of wisdom among them, only a young spritely damsel with dark hair he’d come to know as Nyx, and while she was not a fool, she was no Seer of the Moon, either. He shakes his head no in response. "The only meeting I recall under the Queen of Dragons was in the early fall after the summer we built the wall. The only female unicorn among the gathering was Nyx." A soft smile slips across his lips under the recollection of the massive number of equines that resided under the Dragonheart’s wings, finding great pride in the equine Queen’s ability to draw her kin to her.

He wonders, only briefly, if Kahlua will be able to do the same.

The conversation slips back to the Edge as it is now, not ghosts who haunt memories and hearts. He takes in her words about Kaj and files them away in the properly labeled folder, still waiting before officially deciding how he felt about the King. The cheer and luster in her voice, however, sent flags up within himself that warned he had sweetened her spirit too much towards what they were walking towards, having realized that she had seen next to nothing of what had come to pass, lovingly shielded for the horror by the adults who wore the hideousness of that burden so that she might remain innocent, and sweet as she had been before the darkness.

Begrudgingly, he settles into the resolution that she must be disillusioned; it won’t do for her to be running about expecting to find the same smiling faces. Those that were familiar to her had been forever changed, he himself included in that roster, and he had witnessed and experienced far less than some of the others.

He was still alive, for one.

"Many died, Semira, no matter how well the Gods have repainted the land," he says, seriousness writ across his face as he looks to her, he himself having witnessed the death of a few during the times of trouble and not wanting her to underestimate the seriousness of what had come to pass, the reality that many she loved and could not find may never return at all, "the Edge has not seen many of our fold return and many that have are changed by what they have seen or done. Mirage and Lace vanished in the same week, and the Edge was lost in a matter of days; I know this because I took a walk to the tundra with your mother, my Queen, still ruling our home and returned in three days to find not a soul within the wood but those which had been corrupted by the illness. Within a week, all who remained of the living were underground, hiding like rats from the burning hooves of a God." He pauses, a lapse of silence as he recalls the horrors sweeping across Helovia’s chest, sighing at the naïve nature of her hope and that he is destroying it. " I wish I could assume they all found safety, as you did…but I am not a fool. I saw what came to take our kingdom. Those… things. They were as fast as wind and far more clever, claiming most they came into contact with quickly and without hesitation or remorse. Family slain by family, lovers devoured by their children and children bloodied by their father’s hooves."

He remembers his talk with Ranjiri in this same meadow, his brows furrowing together in frustration that so much evil had come down on them for seemingly no reason other than to toy with their emotions. "Imagine it, Semira; you must if you are to understand the way things are now, the burdens some of us carry. Watching your body kill and maim all that you love as you scream silently from within, finding pleasure in the act even as you weep in sorrow and outrage against what is happening."

He pauses in his step to look at her with a kind face, one that tries to help her understand that he does this for everyone, not just to wound her hope. "Understand that the World’s Edge of your childhood is no more, and many of your friends and family may not be the same; your mother’s rule has fallen, and all that stands are its bones. You’ll see it more clearly once we reach the wall."

What he meant by that, of course, was that while the wall was still present, it was weathered and chipped, no longer grand and impenetrable as it had been; that such a massive thing had been so swiftly demolished was all the evidence of proof in his words he needed, that the wall still stood was all anyone could desire to prove that their spirit, while weathered, still burned and resonated.

CrafteR

world's edge