The idea of reproducing was foreign to me. I remember stories father used to tell us, of how his father had tamed the wild and unruly mare, Naryl, his mother. Azureus had had to fight her, to beat her, to prove himself the dominant beast over her - it sounded like a strange relationship, though father used to say it was simply proof of the passion that tied them together. I remember asking him about what held he and mother together, and he simply laughed, and ruffled y mane with his warm muzzle, merely commenting that perhaps one day I would understand.

I doubted his words.

I doubted everything he ever said to me. How can I trust my memory anymore? It is so faulty, glossing over things that I probably should have remembered, and holding onto ideals that left me feeling empty and broken.

The image of your bloodied body, lying still and broken before me, still clouds most of my memories. There is little else I can hold onto, aside from the time you left me, and took most of my soul with you. I am but a shell, a chassis for the remnants of a broken creature, a deformed and faulty coin, worth little in value and capable of even less.

The Meadow of thistles seemed to be a regular haunt of late. It is a realm for the homeless, the outcasts, the vagabonds and wanderers. I suppose I was one of them now. Aimless, goalless, friendless and hopeless - I was full of everything less ever since you left me, Sitka.

Sun shining, I wandered this vast stretch of land. I guess I was going a variant of North, and it was the weather that told me I was relatively in control of myself - for it was when the weather turned nasty that I knew the turmoil within me had leaked out, staining the environment with its destructive forces.

It was definitely better for those forces to stay locked away, inside me.

A twitch shivered at my shoulder, obviously not caused by cold weather. A sigh flutters through my nostrils, as my sharp, cerulean gaze pierces my surrounds. I walk, seemingly preferring to traverse the lands by foot instead of by air, a reversal to my preference when you were alive, Sitka. It was humbling, for a winged creature to wander the ground using only her hooves, though I would not hesitate to take to the skies again should the need arise.

Movement ahead, the sound of wings fluttering and hooves thumping. I pause, tense, spying what could be anything really - but turns out to be nothing more than a foal. No, two foals. A small smirk tugs at the corner of my mouth, as I watch the (I assume) brothers frolic and play, my form apparently concealed somewhat in the shade of the bordering trees. A chuckle rolls across the meadow, and I divert my attention to the would-be mother, my smile vanishing and the tenseness returning.

It was a reflex, an automatic reaction to anything maternal. I loved my mother, truly I did, but it was easy for me to say I was my father's daughter more. Aside from that, when father died, she fell into a depression too deep for me to save her from, and for whatever reasons she deemed appropriate, she took my sister to her lands of birth. During a time when I needed them most, I only had you.

Now I have no-one.

"Hello," I decide to say, my voice smooth and melodic, almost musical in tone. A smile etches itself upon my lips, though it barely reaches further - there is a sadness, a hollowness that I am sure my eyes betray, no matter the façade I wear. A friendly nicker follows my greeting, as my hooves pull me from the shrubbery. The scent of pines and rocky cliffs meet my nostrils, and I wonder if I have travelled far enough North to happen across some from the Edge.. If it's even called the Edge any more. I had been there a couple of times, what felt like a lifetime ago.

"What brings you to the Meadow this fine day?" I ask, directing my query to bot the mother and the foals. The small, feathered appendages that sprout from their hides cause my magic to stir up a small breeze, so that they might be able to feel the wind comb through the soft, youthful down that currently covers them. I rein the weather back however, reluctant to let my magic express itself.

For whenever it did, only destruction followed.

[[ uhhh idk where this came from. .___. @[Brisa] ]]

Even as the mother showed her concern for her foals, calling them back to her side, I felt varying shades of emotions running through me. Wistfulness. Envy? Sadness. Had I returned to Helovia with the hopes of reuniting with my family? Of connecting with those who share the same blood as I, who know my past (well, most of it), who love me unconditionally, and I them? I didn't even know if that was true any more. Did I still love my family, even though they were no longer around? My father was dead, my mother - who knows, my sister - I secretly hope and pray that she is still safe and alive, and that she would forgive me for being so.. Absent and aloof.

I smiled as I watched the interaction, this time a bit more genuine and true as the emotion played across my face. Clouds lazily drifted across my hide as they did across the sky above us, and I lowered my tiara so that I could demonstrate how little a threat I offered to them. Of course, I was forever ready to become defensive if the need ever arose, with my spear hidden away amongst my plumage, always within reach of my strong jaws to wield it. There was a time where I barely used my spear, for I felt secure enough in the safety that your presence provided to me, but that time has come to pass. Now my spear may as well be as attached to me as a unicorn's horn is to its brow, such is my dependence on it.

I continue to step towards them, nodding my crown and allowing a small flutter of cherubic laughter to exit my charred maw, as the colts bump against one another, folding their wings awkwardly to their sides after the breeze I unwittingly spurred dies by my command. My leonine tail sweeps the dried grasses of the Meadow beneath its elongated tendrils, as I playfully motion to the colts to dare to step away from their mother, to greet me properly, to have some fun and live. My ears listen to the mother's introduction, learning the names of the trio before me.

"The wind," I reply to her query with a smile, this time encouraging the breeze to stir around me again. Another angelic lilt of laughter plays through my maw as I lift my wings to revel in the smooth strokes of the breeze. My smile still firmly in tact, I ask Brisa kindly, "Have your handsome boys begun preparing for their first flight yet? They may be young, but preparation is the key to success." Though the boys were pegasi in appearance, I could wager a guess that they were hybrid, as the mother did not look like she had adopted them - her udders were heavy with milk, and they were too young to be weaned as yet, so I could conclude that their father bestowed the genetics upon them to allow their eventual flight. I wondered if their father was as adept as my own in teaching flight to his kin, or if he was one of those steeds who keep their distance..

[[ I don't mind being tagged :D @[Brisa] ]]

The doe's words meet my ears once more, and the smile that held my lips in a delicate curve drops away swiftly, soon replaced by a frown as my lips purse together in disapproval. It was not for the mare's lack of knowledge in preparing the children, that much she couldn't really help, but that the father abandoned his mate, not even bothering to linger long enough to see the result of his actions? It was disgusting, and I wondered at how any woman could ever allow herself to fall prey to a stallion's wants. But maybe I was wrong, maybe she did believe , truly believe, that he loved her, and maybe he did love her, but was ripped away from her.. I didn't know all the facts, but it still made for a sad situation - children without a father, a mother without a partner.

I have never known a love that was romantic like that, never been swept away by the emotions and feelings of another. The closest I suppose I have gotten was to you, Sitka. But you aren't here anymore.

"Well," I begin again, deciding with a small smile that teaching the basics of flight was something well within my skillset. My father was an exceptional trainer and coach, I remember attending the sessions he held for the Throat's warriors clearly. Though I doubt the quality of my lessons would be as good, at least I could try.. Right? "I'm sure I could help with that, if you like." My cranium lowers to the eye level of the colts as they near me, my smile kind, the wind gently swirling around us all. I reach out with both wings, tilting them forward as one of them - Aeolus, was it? - leans towards me. I aim to brush the first few primary feathers of each wing against them, my smile warm and welcoming all the while. Theirs were still small and downy, but that didn't mean they couldn't prepare for when they would eventually fly.

Stilling the wind that dances around us, I take some steps back to give myself room, shuffling my wings slightly as I unfold them. They aren't light exactly, given I managed to inherit larger than regular sized wings from both my parents (it was said my grandmother had the broadest wingspan of all of Isilme when she ruled the Cliffs), I made sure that I wasn't going to knock them on anything. Muscles across my shoulders bulged with the effort, but they were used to this exercise now, having done it virtually since I was born. I spoke to Brisa directly, peering over the small forms of the colts. "They must prepare their muscles to carry not only the weight of their wings, but their bodies too. While the wind will help once they are airborne, they will need to be prepared for when the wind is not there to carry them." I always believed that there was a bit of magic in every pegasus that allowed them to fly, but really, it was all a science.

Lifting my wings high, I very deliberately brought them down again, a giant sweeping motion that could not help but stir a breeze up. I lift them again, and as I grow sure that the others become used to the motion I am making, I slowly increase the speed of the downstrokes.

I only do it a few times before deciding they have seen enough, before coming to a steady stop, halting as my wings are lifted to their highest height above my head. With a bright, devious smirk upon my lips, I look to the boys before me, my crown nodding as I beckon them to give it a try too. "Go on, show me what you can do."

[[ :D @[Brisa] ]]

The doe mentions that I am kind, and I have to actually wonder whether I believe her or not. Certainly, she's welcome to believe I am kind, friendly, caring even, but what am I really? Why was I doing this? What motivated my actions? I did not think I was kind. Nor was I brave, for I skulked around these wildlands rather then venture towards any herdland, where I would be more likely to encounter someone who knew me before I fled the lands. Before you sacrificed yourself so that I might survive. Before I was left to live in this world, alone, lost. I didn't know myself anymore, so much so that I didn't even know why I was bothering to impart knowledge of flight unto these colts.

I think I was merely coping, surviving in a world alone, when I was so used to being supported, to being carried around by those I love.

There is no one left in this world who I love.
Or is there?

I think I do this because it is familiar, easy, something I hold inexplicable confidence in. It is a comfort to me, I suppose. Teaching, authority, was in my blood, I guess I inherited some of my father's traits without realising it. He was so natural at it though, he revelled in seeing those around him push their bodies to the limit, to work towards a common goal of simply being the best one physically can possibly be. It was drilled into me since birth, and so I have fallen into the habit of easily maintaining a fit, sculptured bodice, prepared for any physical altercation. At least physically, I was whole and fit.

It was my soul that was broken.

Kind, supportive laughter drifted out from my lips as I watched the colts attempt to mimic my motions. I smile warmly, excited to see their progress. "That's great," I say encouragingly, nodding to each foal before me. "I want you to do it as much as possible, all the time, stretch and move your wings. Your back and shoulders will get sore, but then you must push some more. Soon, your muscles will grow big and strong, and eventually.." My wings stretch out horizontally to my sides, and I summon a great updraught to fill my wings. My smile turns mischievous as with a wild toss of my dreadlocked mane, I suddenly shoot towards the sky, propelled completely by the magic that flows so readily in my veins.

It is exhilarating, as it always is. I let the sensation fill every fibre of my being, sighing with pleasure as I push myself forward, so that I fly a smooth curve around the clearing. Coming to land, I balance myself carefully, extending my legs and moving into a light-footed trot as I tuck my wings back down alongside Brisa. Filled with the joy of flight and feeling more alive then I have felt in months, I move to gently bump my maw against Brisa's shoulder. "I'm Cirrus, by the way. And thi.." I stop suddenly, too caught up in the moment to forget that you aren't there to introduce. My breaths come in a rapid-fire succession, as the look of shock takes over my face momentarily. I feel gutted, sliced open, like someone is dissecting my soul all over again..

"And that is how you fly." I catch my breath and finish my sentence, suppressing the gasps with a small struggle. I am trembling, but I hope my company writes it off as part of the adrenalin-induced joy of flight.

[[ @[Brisa] eek sorry for double tag! ]]

Swiftly I hoped the stammer of words that had tumbled from my lips would be overlooked, that the crack in my demeanour would not be widened, but rather skipped over, forgotten, shoved to the side. It was bad enough that my nerves were so suddenly exposed, rubbed raw by my slip of tongue, by my natural need to introduce you, to assume that you are still here to introduce, I did not then need strangers prying into my inner workings, the very foundations of my soul, areas of which were previously occupied by you and your glorious soul. My limbs shiver still from the slip of mouth, my tail twitching nervously, the long hairs shuddering down its leonine length. I look at the mare, almost reluctantly, and hope that she does not enquire further.

The wind blows, rustling through my dreadlocked tendrils.

The concern that glows behind Brisa's eyes does not venture any further then her icy gaze, and for that, I am eternally grateful. I try to shush the wind that has stirred, but it stubbornly ignores my attempts at controlling it, and so we are blessed with a breeze that does provide some much needed cooling on a hot summer's day. A small worry blossoms at the back of my mind, as I recall recent experiences with my own magic resulting in less-then-desirable circumstances. That will not happen today.. I hope.

Gladly, I turn my attention to the words she speaks, accepting the gentle caress she offers, though nervous twitches still rattle down my spine from my slip up. I plaster what I hope is a kind smile upon my maw, though it probably resembles something more like a madman embracing their insane tendencies. The colts provide me with further distraction, as I take in their stunned facades, the gleam of admiration in their gazes, the awkward, youthful attempts of replicating the exercises I gave them. My smile does soften to something more genuine, less asylum looking, as Aeolus asks his question. I remember when my father taught me to fly, how eager and excited I was. I remember when he asked me to get him a palm tree leaf, for no other reason then to see me riddle out exactly how I would achieve it. I did, of course, through much effort and failed attempts, deliver him with said palm tree leaf, and he treated me like a goddess for it.

I miss him. I miss you. But there is nothing I can do about that, except remember you both.

"One day, you will soar through the clouds, riding rainbows and challenging the howling wind to duels." I say encouragingly, probably not the words a mother of youngsters wants to hear, but true nonetheless. There is nothing more grand than flying for a pegasus, it is something that we all embrace, that we live, something that a pegasus will try to master better then his fellows just so that he can say he is the best.

"But you can only do that if you practise practise practise, and when you are exhausted and just want to stop, you need to keep going!" The wind seems to get stronger, not unbearably so, but certainly more prevalent as I speak, my sharp, cerulean gaze holding feverishly with the colts. I don't even know how much they understand, or grasp about what I am talking about, youthful that they are, but that does not deter me from impressing the wonder that is flying upon them. I look back to Brisa, my façade still flushed with excitement from my description of the wonders of flight. "Don't worry," I say to the mother, "they won't have the guts to jump off the cliff of the World's Edge for a few more months yet." I wink playfully, hardly realising that I just revealed my recognition of her herdland without even trying..

[[ @[Brisa] sorry for the wait love ]]

My mention of her home seems to go unnoticed, and for that, I am grateful once more. Whether she simply did not recognise it or whether she simply assumed I was a well-travelled Helovian native, it didn't matter - she didn't press me for information on my deduction of her home. I wasn't ready to delve into my history, to relive a time when you were still alive, to explain your once-existence and now-extinction to someone who simply couldn't understand it. The pale creature is enraptured by her colts, and it lets me smile - though I harbour a sense of cynic dislike for the male gender, I can at least write off their young, foolish activities of those as children, still learning and growing. Perhaps they were trainable still, perhaps with a quality upbringing that Brisa could provide, they wouldn't fulfil the stereotype that has begun in my mind.

The mare mentions how she hopes they would never jump off the Edge's cliffside, and I can only plaster a lop-sided grin upon my maw, tossing my tiara to tilt my dreadlocked fringe out of my eyes. It was bound to happen - the call of flight to a pegasus was as alluring as the call of an addicts favourite drug, there was no equal, and if they were anything like most pegasi I knew, they would not be able to resist such a calling. But that was why they had to be prepared. It was good that they were under the protection of the Edge.. Assuming it was the same sort of herd as before the horrific darkness descended, it would surely have numerous pegasus and other winged creatures at its disposal to show the boys just how to fly. Soon enough, when their muscles grew and their soft, fluffy, downy wings shed out to longer, more refined and elegant feathers, they would find themselves lifted off the ground even as they did this simple exercise. The next step was easy - taking off was something more pegasus mastered in one attempt.

It was landing that usually proved the troublesome part.

My ears twist sharply upon my crown as the mare's body language tenses up, and I feel myself instinctively searching for you, wanting to borrow your senses, wanting to feel the secure caress of your soul against my own. I am left alone, however, my thoughts thrown away into the abysmal hole that is inside me, swallowed by the black hole of death, following you to wherever you are now. My wings shuffle again at my sides, opening slightly, prepared to take off or to become a weapon themselves if needed. Brisa gathers her boys close, and at her touch I almost jump, until her low, soft voice informs me of her concerns. I nod, once, before reaching up to my left wing to pluck out the spear decorated with the black-and-white feathers of my father, feathers nearly identical to the one that was strung up in my dreadlocked mane. The taste of the wood upon my tongue gives me comfort, the faint scent of my forefathers that has soaked into it gives me strength.

"Stay here." I say simply, not giving a backwards glance to those I have apparently decided to risk my life for. Oh Sitka, what I wouldn't give for your sense of smell, your fine-tuned hearing, your ability to deduce everything going on in our surrounds with nothing more than a swift sniff and a glance. I am blind without you, but that doesn't stop me, for now I must learn to survive alone. I move forward, only a few paces, hoping to move enough that the wind I control (when its not controlling me anyway) can penetrate in between the trees, can deliver to me a scent, a sound, a hint of what might lie there. I call to the breeze, I feel it twist and turn, I encourage it to scoop up what it might and deliver to me information I that would help be decipher this mystery. My eyes think they see something, but I am not sure - it is a blur, a memory of a dream fading into unconsciousness as one wakes up in the morning.

The scent that is delivered to me is faint, and the image that is placed in my mind is from a time before you were born, a time where I travelled to colder climates with my mother, before my wings could bear my weight in the skies, a time where father was alive and well, where laughter was plentiful and spots were contagious.

"Who are you?" I demand, the haughtiness in my tone nearly overridden by the fear and nerves shaking the rest of me. Am I ready for this?

Will I ever be?

The stallion steps forward, and my memory becomes clearer, the fragmented, cloudy images falling into place. My eyes widen, and absently, my spear returns to its hold amongst my feathers. I had no desire to fight, not really, not him.

I am left stunned as my name passes through his lips, I can feel the frost within his tone, the icy indifference that is written all over his posture. The frozen shine of his horn reminds me of the playdate mother had taken me on North, before my wings were big enough to carry me through the skies. I remembered meeting him, touching him to see whether his spots would rub off onto me, as my father as once claimed. I remember meeting others on my Northern adventure, but then I ventured South again, only to return to the frosty climate years later when sent on a mission to discover why my mother had been taken by fiends hiding amongst the frozen lands.

I had never found her. I had never learned whether he had anything to do with it all. I remember wondering, back then, if the friendly, polite stallion I had met was capable of such a hate-fuelled crime.

I never did get my answer.

Brisa's voice breaks me from my reverie, her touch causing a twitch to jump its way along my shoulder. I see the soft, almost affectionate way she welcomes Mauja, and I am left lost once again. She willingly gives him the names of her colts, she seems to metaphorically embrace him with her kind, open eyes. I breathe, at a loss as to how to react, what to say, what to do from here.

If you were by my side, Sitka, I feel like this would never happen.

"How are you..?" The question trails off, as I find myself wanting to finish it a million different ways. I leave it there, however, allowing the appaloosa to fill in the blanks however he deigned appropriate.

[ Sorry for the wait @[Mauja] & @[Brisa] ]

The silence stretched on.

And on.

And on.

It gave my thoughts time to tumble into place. I could hear my rattly breaths going in and out of my nostrils, my mouth closing as I recovered from my shock, at least enough so that I could compose myself better. I was not a seasoned professional in hiding all that went on within me, though I did my best to guard myself, I wore my emotions upon my pelt, they danced across the skies when my magic escaped the grips of my control.

Though I tensed when Brisa stepped forward, I didn't stop her, I more wondered what the spotted steed's reaction would be to it. It was the innocent query of Aeolus that snapped me from my silence, causing a grin to spread upon my lips, and a gentle laugh to echo in my throat. I remembered a time when I had asked a similar question, and for once I didn't let the memory become tainted by the darkness that had clouded my mind since those long-ago, innocent moments.

"I touched them once," I leaned down low, to speak in conspiring tones to the colts. "And a spot grew on my nose!" I exclaimed, putting the same excitement into my tones that my father had put into them when he had told me the same tall tale some four years past. "Let's hope your Mum is immune," I whisper sadly, smirking deviously to the other adults present. Was it a credit or a detriment to my personality that I was so much more comfortable interacting with the young colts than the adults?


[ @[Mauja] & @[Brisa] ]