Daylight faded, drifting across the sky in a rainbow miasma of colours, coalescing in an array of clouds and fantastic shapes that one did not know existed until they saw them written in the skies. Much the same could be said for the golden fringed creature that danced her dance across those very same clouds, curious coloured dragon spirits weaving their joyous dance through every elegant sweep of her wings, every swing of her elongated tail. They chimed in with her laughter, so that from afar, there was a symphony, a chorus of music that was not quite equine, not quite draconic, and not quite of this world. Love and laughter filled her soul, as the spirits, her friends and her guardians through this world, led her to where they knew she longed to be.

But the girl was grown, and her journey from the Threshold to the Edge was not a direct one - by choice. There was an invisible wall, a barrier, and she knew it was within. The belle knew well enough that her mother had not passed from this world, at least not in the traditional sense that one passes away. Amaris had gotten to know the dragons that she was able to summon, and many of them had been bonded in their lives previous to their deaths. The dragon-girl had confidence that should she will it, should the golden queen have passed, she would be able to summon the spirit of her mother's dragon, beloved Akatih. And since the golden queen had not appeared, she felt sure that her mother was not dead.

But that also meant that she was not in this world, for surely if Mirage were still alive, still whole and completely within this dimension, she would know. Her father had often commented how Akaith's soul was ever present aside his own, not as directly as it was for her mother, of course, but still there. And now it wasn't.

So, the girl did not feel as if the Edge, the place of her birth, was the place to visit. Not straight away. Though dismayed, her draconic company accepted this with a simple comforting swell against her soul, the three coloured shadows creating an arrow formation before her nose, guiding her into a dive, painting her hide in the trails of their lights, like a comet leaves behind a trail of stars in its wake. The belle smiled, and as her hooves stretched forward to break the surface of the pond she had deigned as her destination, her musical voice erupted in laughter once more.

With surprise she swiftly stifled her laughter, however, as she spotted a pale figurine skitter across the surface. Her hooves found purchase against the silty base of the pond, the water level lapping to a level just above her pectorals, waves rippling outwards from her silvery, crème, and golden self. Cat-slitted, golden eyes peer out over the crystalline surface, curiously searching for the pale one she was sure she saw. The spirits that danced about her, called their own magical tune, a red and a blue skittered across the surface excitedly, even as she lifted her leathery wings from the surface of the pond, and watched as silver droplets cascaded from the folding curves. Attention floated once again over the surface of the pool, to where the land stretched, where fragrant plants grew, and where a silver horse stood.

He was mostly silver, anyway. Gold coated his shoulders and spine, and a small, devious smile played on the lips of the belle at the sight of him. She moved, her speed hindered by the water that dragged at her limbs, but somehow the grace of the combination of species that ran through her blood prevailed, even as she pulled herself from the water and made to close the gap between them. The white one, she recognised now, as Fajira, and a low, melodic hum was sent her way, the sound vibrating in her throat like a deep, reptilian purr. Caramel hued strands fell across her eyes, and those that ran the length of her whip-like tail dripped heavily, waterlogged from their dip in the water.

"Lace," she spoke warmly, remembering the first time she ever met the steed, the way he had looked at her mother. And, with some wistfulness, the belle could not help wondering if someone would ever look at her like that.

@[Lace]

Joy filled the youthful belle's face as the white one returned her greeting. No amount of exposure to dragons could even begin to dampen the adoration she held for the more ferocious half of her blood. The bond between dragon and equine was written into the history of the very creation of the world, and it was celebrated upon the bodice of Amaris - and her sister, Semira, and their father, Vikram. The girl loved those who shared her draconic half, having met only a few of them in her father's homeland who were less than savoury. But the same could be said for those of equine descent - it was simply a matter of filling life with only those you wanted to influence you.

The voice that spoke her name, and the touch upon her cheek, brought her out of her admiration of the companions' play. Her eyes held his while they were in this close vicinity, and for a moment, she felt warmth travel to her cheeks, a flush that had her skin been thin enough to show it, would have coloured her cheeks. The youth hadn't spent any time near a stallion aside from her father, as well as the male dragons she had encountered while at his birthland, and nothing like this had ever swelled up within her. Her eyes glowed with the shy happiness as she lipped at his muzzle, low wuffles growing at the back of her throat.

Then he spoke again, and though she knew he was complementing her, one word seemed to echo through her body. Child, he said, he called her. It was the truth, and that was perhaps the part that stung the most. There is no shame in being a child, a draconic hum sounded in her mind, the cunning little blue who danced with the red and White laughed a musical note even as he comforted the girl. You are but a child, do not let the label take away that which growing up steals -smile, little one. Earnestly the little blue insists that she accept this, that Lace did not mean it in a derogatory way, that he is indeed a full grown stallion while, she is but a mere child discovering that she possesses the body of a mare.

Had she changed all that much? She wondered if Lace was speaking entirely the truth when he said he never would have recognised her. A smirk quirked at the corner of her mouth as she found that very doubtful - how many dragon hybrids did Lace know, anyway?

How long have you been back? The question weighed down on her. Physically, she had been back in Helovia only as long as Lace had, but mentally? Had she ever truly left?

No, she thought to herself, for as long as her heart yearned to be here then surely she had never left. "Long enough to know I never should have left." Her words were given with tones reminiscent of her mother, smooth and rich, with a honey-like texture. They weren't overflowing with emotion, but neither were they completely vacant of it -Amaris knew Lace well enough, trusted him well enough to know that even if she attempted to hide anything from him, he would probably be able to see through it anyway - particularly if he knew her mother as well as she suspected he did. Amaris looked at him as he seemed to peel away from her, and even though she had just admitted to herself that it was pointless trying to hide anything from him, she tried to hide the hurt in her eyes from his subtle, small action.

Was she, a mere child, that abhorrent to him?

"Everything is different." A small voice murmured now, the girl pulling her eyes away from the stallion, to watch with an unfocussed gaze, as the dragons danced and played across the otherwise romantic atmosphere.


@[Lace]

He overlooks her hurt, or does not notice it - the reaction (or lack thereof) makes her reconsider it herself. Was she behaving childish? Did she know how to behave any differently? It dawned upon her then, that despite it all, all the teaching, all the trying to be like her mother in temperament and heart, the girl was still just a girl, a creature who had barely begun to discover exactly who and what she was - and she suddenly admired Lace for being able to cleverly orchestrate this realisation within herself. Did he craft the scene himself, or was it happenstance, chance, luck that led to it all? A bemused expression stole across her lips, as she wondered about the stallion, about his relationship to her mother, and she could see how and why it worked, how and why it her mother had needed him in her life - and Amaris was glad to have him in her life too.

He spoke again, confirming her words, but in such a way that made her complaint seem as small and insignificant as it was. Of course things changed, change was as sure as the seasons - bound to happen, whether one wanted to control them or not, they still were going to roll from TallSun to OrangeMoon, from FrostFall to BirdSong.

He asked her a question then, and her eyes widened with surprise - the idea of taking a detour, of stopping to have a look around, was foreign to her, though she didn't know why that was so. Her mother had always been a wanderer, though herd life often kept her within the borders of the Edge for seasons at a time. Her mother spoke of Lace's wanderings too, particularly when he had returned from a wander to give her a piece of his mind, either politically or regarding warfare or otherwise - Amaris reflected back on the memories of listening in around the weyr, the family campfire, of her mother and father speaking of things that a young belle could hardly process, let alone understand. She shakes her head slowly in response to his query, before he launches into an explanation, a reason behind his query in the first place. A new land?

"That is.. Remarkable." Her voice was calmer now, less impetuous, deeper and filled with more soul. She was genuinely interested by the news, interested enough that she made a mental point to venture to the north to check it out for herself in the near future. "But, he is the Father of the Earth after all," she added with a smile, delving into what little of the lore of the Gods she knew. "How strange it would be, to be a God," she mused, her gaze trailing upwards to the canopy, absently flicking to the interaction of the dragons nearby. "To control whatever you wanted," she added in her musical voice. "To live forever." The belle didn't know of Lace's self-preserving magic, so she spoke with ignorance, simply a youthful belle musing quietly to one she considered a friend.

"I wonder how many times he has added or taken away mountains in the past?" Golden, cat-slitted eyes returned to the steed's own honeyed gaze as she asked the return query, her tiara lowering slightly as she tried to meet her gaze as he munched on the remnants of spring grass that grew beside the lake.

@[Lace]

The girl is surprised by his response, though her only way of showing it was to look at him with a slightly harder look of curiosity. He spoke as if he knew, first-hand, what it was to live forever. The dragon-child is unaware of the memories that surface in his mind, ignorant to the attempt of inviting death in so willingly that Lace had tried not two seasons ago. Such a thing had never crossed her gilded mind; even when things were not as bright as they could have been, she was resilient, stubborn almost, similar to her mother with her father's quiet determination to survive no matter what.

Admittedly, it was fairly hard to lay a scratch upon the belle, who was armoured with golden scales and a scythe upon her long, strong tail. Perhaps she knew more than Lace realised what it was to live forever.

The re-arrival of Fajira allowed the girl's smile to resurface, the weight of the white upon her rump a welcome one. Even though the belle could not gleam the thoughts of the little dragon directly, the happiness of the blue and red dragon-souls who accompanied her suggested it was high time for a change in pace. At Lace's translation of Fajira's thoughts, the young mare whirled her tiara away from the white dragon and towards the stallion, surprise widening her eyes and pricking her ears. If she could, she would have blushed, for comments about her physique were often derogatory and offensive, though not necessarily in this odd way.

He is jesting, murmured the blue spirit, amusement thick in his tone as he laughed musically in his ministrations alongside the golden belle. Amaris sighed softly, raising a single brow as she considered the gold-splashed steed before her, shifting her weight so as to ensure the white dragon sitting atop her rump was also included in her following actions.

"Is that so?" Harmonic, playful tones hummed from her maw, as her cat-slitted eyes darted from the stallion to his dragon. With a smirk, the young mare then moved to lift her haunches - not a buck, but more of a forceful stomping of one of her hindlegs, so rock the white's seat. The girl laughed lightly, before sticking her tongue out to the little white as her tail whipped about the area behind her. With a dramatic toss of her caramel mane, the belle then surged forward, aiming her ath curve directly into Lace's own gold-splash haunch, teeth bared - sharpened canines visible, though she only aimed to nip at him with her blunted incisors.

"She seems to like it well enough!" The girl laughed playfully, darting away after her attempted attack with a playful half-rear and flourish of her scythed tail. "Perhaps you are simply jealous, oh SilverButtedOne," she suggesting with a wink, ears pricked and muscles keeping her frame light as she awaited his likely payback.


@[Lace]

Musical laughter and playful gestures filled the area, as dragon's sung and danced amidst the flurry of wings, limbs and tails. Fajira spouted flames and soon her spirit friends copied, and the realm was filled with the activity of dragons and equine, performing that which could be considered an ancient ritual; they were, in their own way, celebrating the bond that held them together. Not just the bond of dragon and equine, but also the friendship, the kinship that existed between the dragon-belle and the stallion. Amaris did not know, nor understand fully, what Lace felt for her, nor even what she felt for him - it simply was what it was, a friend of her family, someone she wanted to look up to, to admire, to follow.

And it was easy to do so, when he so effortlessly plucked her out of her quiet mood and into something far more alive, more playful, more spirited. The girl, usually so quiet and reserved when thrust into situations she was unsure of, embraced the activity energetically, unafraid to let herself be seen for the cherubic, delightful child that she truly was - that she had to allow herself to be. It was so easy to fall into the quiet, observant persona, something she had practised so that she could be like her mother - and the girl was like her mother, in more ways that just her desire to hide her emotions, to learn more about others before giving away too much about herself - what Amaris did not realise, is that she needn't practise any of things to be like her mother.

DragonHeart, the title came to the golden lass from one of the spirits that danced with her, and she smiled all the broader for it. Was her mother not defined by the heart that directed her thoughts and actions? Was she not loved for that? Remembered for that? The realisation hit Amaris mid-stride, though her step did not falter, rather, it became all the more lively and enthusiastic, more daring as she attempted to lay a mark upon the silver-and-gold steed's hide, squealing indignantly as his own teeth scraped against her scaly haunches.

Then he stopped.

It was abrupt, sudden, and the dragon-girl couldn't help pause her steps too, sides expanding and contracting with the effort of catching one's breath in the aftermath of such activity. Her tiara tilted, much a confused puppy's, innocence causing her to press her curious stare upon the stallion. The boldness of the dragon within her caused her to step forth, to press her muzzle against his warm neck, to tug at his silver mane with her gilded lips. The dragons around her paused in their flight too, curious as to the happenings that interrupted their play. Why does he stop? Amaris' melodic thoughts questioned her spirit companions, who simply crooned softly in response, unable to pinpoint the cause of the steed's actions, simply knowing they should be sympathetic regardless.

"Lace?" The girl asked, softly, the word filled with the genuine concern she held for him. Tread with care, one of the spirits softly instructed to her, and she flicked an ear back to the glowing dragon, unsure of exactly what to do.

"There's no need to be jealous of my butt, Lace. I'm happy to help you make your own just as large." The words were spoken with sincerity, and should the steed look at the belle's own façade, he would see the deadpan seriousness of her expression. It wouldn't last though, not more than a few seconds, for it would soften with the glow of amusement, still tinged by concern, but with a hope that she was able to pull him from his troubled thoughts just as he had done to her not minutes before.

Hope, concern and optimism glowed behind her eyes, as the belle gently tried to tug the stallion from his dark reverie. It was a few moments of silent wonder, wonder whether he was ever going to come back to her, wonder at what she was going to do if he didn't, wonder at what exactly had caused him to halt their game. The girl waited, patiently, not knowing how long was appropriate for her to linger, to watch him decide - she recognised the expression one wore when they were absorbed by inner turmoil, and she glanced to Fajira, pleading with the dragon to help her get through to the metallic steed.

He seemed to breathe again, to move, to be reborn into this world, blinking at the brightness of it, and slowly but surely, accepting it once more. His charred lips curve again, and relief permeates across the belle's features, her frame relaxing from its tense posture - one she did not realise she was holding. The girl had seen similar things happen before - she reflected upon her mother, her uncles, her aunt - even, on occasion, herself. She knew the pull of one's own thoughts, the desire to become so introverted that you can no longer see what is going on around you any more, you cannot process the outside world, because it was the outside world that drove you inwards in the first place -Amaris, a voice echoed through her mind, as the girl snapped from her own thoughts and returned to the present day and time, blinking as the tugging of her spirit dragon friend pulled her from her reverie. It was so easy to step away from the reality of the world, and while she had not gone as deep as Lace just had, the girl was well aware that everything started with that first step..

A limb comes flying at her then, falling short of her flesh, and though she was startled to begin, a smile is swift to reappear upon her lips as she recognised the gesture. The hours trickled by as the Sun crawled across the sky, and friends danced and gallivanted across the Grove, sometimes splashing in the pond, other times dodging and weaving in between trees. Dragonsong abounded, laughter and sheer, simple contentment blossomed between the two. When Lace finally ceased in his chasings, and laid to rest amongst the soft grassy strands of the loam, the dragon-girl followed, bowing her frame nearby, so that they would be able to converse easily, should he want it - the girl was not opposed to simply sit in silence and watch the stars bloom across their midnight garden bed.

Alas, silence was not to be.

The question he posed was one she had asked herself ever since thoughts could form within her crown. So often her thoughts would be answered by one or more of the many glowing souls who accompany her on her wanderings; even now, they chatted at the back of her mind, mostly inconsequential ramblings, sometimes trying to offer their advice and guidance to her - but what exactly did Amaris want?

"I'll follow Tandavi, and join the Throat, if they'll have me." Her words were spoken quietly, seriously, the deep consideration she had given them evident in the tone. A sigh passed through her lips. "I want.." She began, but the girl was not used to defining things for herself - she wanted so much for all those around her, she had forgotten to think about what was best for herself. "I need to find myself. I want to mean something, I want to have a purpose." Cat-slitted orbs of aureate refocussed upon the stallion's own gaze. "Hopefully the Throat will be able offer some guidance." She quietly finished, chewing over her words, wondering at just what her future did hold now that she had resolved to join a new herd, to start a new life. She couldn't help but wonder at her old life - what would her sister think? Her father?

Her mother?

"What about you, Lace?" Suddenly aware of how much she had spoken of herself, the girl flushed and hoped to swiftly turn the attention away from her troubled, unknown future. "Will you come down to the Throat?" A silent plea filled her gaze, earnestness colouring her expression. Please, I don't think I can do this on my own, I might just need your shoulder to cry on when I discover that I am not as strong as those around me.

@[Lace]

Hopes pitched high, the girl prayed he would meet them. Lace was the stallion her mother loved (one of them, anyway), the stallion her mother left the Qian with, the stallion her father held great respect for, the stallion who had always been there, a silent guardian, a comrade, a trusted friend. That a dragon was bonded to his soul probably sung to her as well - dragons would always play a role in her life, whether they made up half of the blood that ran in her veins or not. They were something that, despite her knowing them intimately, would always be a mystery - even as she discovered draconic facts about herself, she was surprised. Fajira was as much part of this as Lace was, and Amaris felt her presence through the interaction the White had with her own spiritual companions, and she loved the little dragon as much as she did Lace.

He spoke, and her hopes were realised - he spoke wisdom and truth, the same she would have expected form her own mother, or perhaps her father, had he been the talking sort. Joy filled her as Lace spoke of venturing to the Throat, and Amaris found herself more comfortable with the decision, excited almost, to venture into this new life, to met new people and experience new things, with a few familiar faces to hold her metaphorical hand. The smile upon her lips grew from hopeful to genuinely pleased, her eyes glowed with the happiness that swelled within her breast as her muzzle bumped happily against his own. Though his comment about the Sun Lord's wrath did give her pause, she remembered that she had witnessed his wrath before, first-hand - and she realised that she was surprisingly comfortable with making his blessed lands her home.

Then the metallic steed kept speaking, and the girl found herself confused with a loss of identity once more. He spoke of not changing what was at his core, but how could she knew whether she had changed when she didn't even know what her core was? She knew he was trying to be comforting, but her immature mind could not process all that he spoke of, the sure contentment that he knew who he was - "I don't know what my core is." She said quietly, shrugging her winged shoulders with a defeatus expression upon her façade. "I don't know who I am." A heat, a fire, had sparked behind her eyes, though it was swiftly doused with the shine of tears that soon followed. They didn't spill over the fold of her eyelid, but her look of despair communicated well enough the sense of loss that currently occupied her mind.

"I don't know who I am, or what I am. I am a sister, a daughter, a friend to those who say they know me. But then to those that have only just met me, I am a monster, a beast, a thing unworthy of their acceptance no matter how many times I have tried to prove otherwise.. How am I to know who or what I am when I am never given a chance?" Her words were rambled and rushed, full of the passion and desire she had to be just like everyone else, to be able to hide the scales that marked her as different, to, even just for a moment, know what it was to be wholly equine, wholly accepted without having her motives questioned by some predatory background as defined by her blood.

"My family are the only ones who can see beneath the surface of these scales." It should have been enough, surely. It should have satisfied the belle and her need for approval, for acceptance.

Then why didn't it?

The dragon-girl stood before the stallion, perhaps the most honest friend she knew who wasn't linked to her by blood, her breaths stretching her ribcage with each inhalation and exhalation, determined but altogether lost.

@[Lace]