The walls pulse with warmth, Tangere lets the smell of stone and wet curl into her sensitive nostrils; memories flow back into her mind, memories she’s let go since her last visit. It seems as though she simply left everything and everyone hanging. Her family, the Basin, will surely forgive her and Lena will almost certainly still dole out the Medic teachings, but all others have casted her outside their thoughts. She’s mostly ignored now, unlike when she first arrived. She does not mind it for now; her lonely adventures keep her busy and sharpened. Those mountains though, their bones call for her, they mutter sweetness into her own skeleton, drawing it out into the open and upward to the raw temperatures and sometimes snowy terrain. She tells the peaks to wait for her, she has one more thing to attend to first.
Phrixus shifts into a comfortable position across her withers. He is brilliantly white, the afternoon sun illuminating the pearly metallic of his long, elegant feathers. He looks much better now than he did during the darkness’ suffocation left Helovia. He was hatched just after the major event and everyone was still reeling from it, including his companion. His eyes are cold blue, icy and hollow; wide and piercing. His beak and feet are black, underneath his white plumage, so is his skin.
The pair makes their way down into the mouth of the steamy cave, Tang’s hooves clicking off of the moist stone she floats across it. Her stout, muscled legs appear to move separate from her head and neck which are propped tightly upright with big and very aware chocolate eyes darting around. She was looking for Quilyan, but she sees Cealestis instead, without Quilyan. This mare, last time they met, seemed dismissive and rather rude, but Tangere isn’t going to be picky. Before she can slide up to the mare and say something quiet and clever she hears something to the far left of her. A young [near her age] stallion slumped against the stone, not looking well. Tangere’s head cocks sideways like an intrigued puppy and as if to a queue, the white raven atop her withers swoops down to land in front of the stallion to examine him. He hops from one side to the other, never touching the horse, just peering.
“You ok, dude?” She leans her face toward him, forgetting about Cealestis for a moment.
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