It always was the way in Helovia. Never could one simply be alone. I never was alone, when you were by my side. I miss you, Sitka. Sometimes I yearn for you, to refill that gaping hole in my heart, but then I have to wonder, even if you did return, would we be the same as before? Would you simply be able to meld your mind with mine, your heart and soul and very being with mine own? A shiver twitches at my shoulder at the thought, though no cold weather falls upon me to give any outside physical cue. There is no point moping over it, is there, Sitka?

Do you still think of me, wherever you are, Sitka?

It is not long before a steed lumbers his way towards me. A land-dweller, and I shuffle my wings closer to my body to indicate I wasn't about to fly away should he long to shoo me away. But he seems to caught up with looking this way and that to really notice anything about me - aside from the magic that reflects the sky unto my skin, of course. What catches my eyes about him, isn't actually about him at all. It's the hound that wanders near him, the youthful pup who is cloaked in darkness, whose species I have no trouble identifying. Hellhound, I recall instantly, and can't help but compare her to you, Sitka. She is not in your class, you were more athletic, more marked with the elements that you controlled, simply more.

My sharp, cerulean gaze fixates upon her, as my nostrils attempt to dissect the air the way yours once did. I smell the acidity of her element, but there is something else too, something heady and heavy, damp and -I realise it is the stallion, whose breath reeks of something off. I don't have long to ponder the cause of it before his words, tainted by that breath, spill forth and voice the observation that is my colouring. I am almost surprised that a Helovian would find this novel, for with my birth here, my upbringing, I easily accept the strange, the weird and wonderful variety of life the gods have blessed to live upon this earth.

"Well spotted." I murmur, my lip bending ever so slightly into something softer, though the expression doesn't reach my eyes, as my attention turns briefly to the canine again, and then to a youthful, feminine voice. I can't help but wonder about all the horns around here - did the unicorns from the north succeed in their invasion? Have I wandered into a Helovia that only allows unicorns to roam and live? Or is it mere coincidence that the two lifeforms I happen to meet upon my return are of the horned variety? Perhaps if you were with me, Sitka, you would tell me that this young belle is only a halfblood, a hybrid, but I do not focus my olfactory system enough upon her to discern such details.

Are you alright? I could almost laugh at her question, the hysteria within me curdled by the fact that she then proceeds to claim her home. The Throat, the place named for the heat that pours from a dragon's maw, the sandy refuge that holds much and more about my past than I care to think of. As it is, I feel that curve deepen upon my lips, and a sound escapes my maw, one that reflects the ramshackle mess within me that is my emotional turmoil. It is a strange gurgled laugh, and it only lasts a second or two before I shake my maw at the atrocity of it all. Of course they would find me. The past has a way of catching up with the present - I suppose I had just falsely hoped it would leave me the fuck alone.

"I'm fine," I say, turning my tiara so that I might behold each of those who have decided to join me within differing pupils. A small, soft, white cloud has formed in the heavens above us - I know this without even tearing my gaze to look upwards, for it etches itself across my pelt in a way that I simply know it's there. I feel its power, the moisture gathering - the humidity has risen ever so slightly in the seconds since the young belle asked her question. How on earth do I even begin to explain all that I've been through?

Do I even bother?

"The Dragon's Throat, huh? Sounds hot." I add, a wink clicking an eyelid shut over my right eye, the one in sight of this Sia. "So," I begin again, turning my chiseled crown to view the heavy stallion more closely again, if only to see his canine companion which so painfully reminds me of you. My voice falters a moment as my breath catches again - I will get over this one day, won't I? - but I press on with my cavalier facade. "Who are you?"

@[Rostislav] let me know if you don't want to be tagged every reply c: