Alysanne

Frostfall had been hard this year but, so Alysanne thought, it had been manageable. Even in the temperate Edge they had experienced bitter chills – and she had been thankful for company on those long nights. The blessing of the floating island had been one she would not fail to thank the gods for – that place alone was a saving grace as it never seemed to be touched by the harsh climate that snow and ice create.

Oh, it was a beautiful season! But reality often threw it into a harsh light.

On that particular late Frostfall day, Hemlock had been leading Alysanne to nowhere in particular – he simply wanted his bonded to get out of the Edge and reacquaint herself with the forests of Helovia. It wasn’t very likely that they were going to find some herbs that they could harvest and bring back, but it didn’t hurt to look.

Besides, he had the ulterior motive of keeping her busy so she wouldn’t go wander off and find someone he did not care for her to be friends with. Like that healer mare – who was alright he supposed – with the retched dragon. Or, even worse, the retched, fumbling lover stallion with the silly fox.

Or, worse than all of them, that other retched, sad lover stallion with the pretty star-bird.

Why couldn’t his bonded find suitable mates and friends with equally suitable companions?

Alysanne, having been lectured on the matter all morning, followed her owl to spare herself from hearing such opinions about her friends.

During their stroll, they were sought out by the previously mentioned pretty star-bird, Eliana, who was making enough of a fuss that Alysanne wasted no time in following her – fearing what they would find whenever they reached their destination. The fear did not dissipate upon discovering the pair laying on the ground – Mikey doing what he did best and doing whatever he could to help the old mare who seemed to have come out this side of Frostfall with some difficulty.

The genuine concern that had come from Mikey was echoed in Alysanne as she came forward and looked between the two – trying to figure out where she should start with helping.

Thoughts of the Moon Goddess pushed into her mind but she couldn’t refuse to help. Not this time!

Spring-green eyes focused on the mare and she made a decision – they could help her find some hearty food to get her energy up but that slush she was lying in was worrisome. “Hey there, I’m Aly. Now, I know it’s pretty comfy underneath the wing of my friend Mikey but what do you say we move over to that dry spot? Just underneath those pines right there?” She moved easily so that she was standing on the other side of the mare, feeling the icy impact of the slush even as she stood in it, ready to help.

Just as she knew it would be for Mikey - it wasn't even a question about whether to help this mare or not. Of course she would! The fact that they were strangers did not factor in the slightest.


@[Sheba]

With your eyes closed, you cannot mark the passing of time. Thus, you do not know how long you lie there in the sludge, waiting for death. You drift in and out of sleep (or delirium, it’s hard to say which), feverishly grasping at the dreams and memories that pass through your mind like shadowy ghosts paying their last respects. A snatch of a song, a hint of a face…wearily, you wonder what has become of them all now, these specters of your past. Have they all crumbled to dust, just as you soon will? Or do they live on? Do they think of you at all, Sheba? Or have they forgotten you, as you have tried so hard to forget them?

But it seems that you cannot even go about the business of dying in peace, for the crunch and slosh of hooves in the icy slush interrupts your soul searching. Irritated, you open a rheumy eye to find a winged stallion standing over you. Your first instinct is to tell him to get lost, but when you open your mouth, all that comes out is an incoherent rasp—and oh, wonderful, now it’s too late. You can’t shout over him while he’s speaking. “Are you all right?” the stranger is asking, though you both know that the answer to that is obvious. I’m dying, you want to whisper grandly. That ought to take the bounce out of his crunchy steps. Maybe then he’ll go away and you can get back to your deep and personal musings. But before you can draw enough breath to impart that impressive tidbit upon this lovely Good Samaritan, he says something that you cannot help but respond to. “I’m a healer,” he informs you earnestly, “Please. Please, let me help you.”

You suck in a sharp breath, and a scratchy laugh bursts weakly from deflated lungs. In the meantime, he is attempting to shelter you from the cold with one of his wings—a well-meaning gesture, you suppose, but it won’t do any good. “Don’t bother, cherie. What I’ve got, you can’t cure. Only old Fireball can, and I don’t suppose I’ll ever see him again,” you wheeze, making the mud bubble with your violent breaths. You don’t begrudge the Samaritan his attempts though—in your last moments, you have decided that it is permissible to indulge in a little bit of this sappy drivel. At least you won’t die alone.

Irony seems to be having its bit of fun with you today, for as soon as you think that, your death suddenly becomes a party. The telltale crunch-slosh-crunch-slosh of another set of hooves signals the arrival of a second pegasus, this a one black and white mare who introduces herself as Aly. It also appears that she knows your Samaritan, for when she speaks, she addresses him as ‘Mikey.’ Brightly, she suggests that you move to where it is dry, and your ears tilt back in exasperation. Would you be lying here in the muck if you could help it? Oh, how far you have fallen, Sheba, to be dying in the dirt like this. Frustrated, you are about to lash out at the gentle mare…when something catches your eye. As she bends over you, the glass trinket around her ears dances and shimmers in the light. Your thoughts dart to the baubles buried in the tangled remnants of your once well-kept mane, and you remember their creator. The one who crafted them for you possessed a talent you had never seen elsewhere—surely this was his work as well? “Dragomir…” you breathe, gaze focusing on the twirling glass heart.


"talk talk talk"

@[Miykael]

Alysanne

Alysanne happily allowed Miykael to do the convincing, who could deny that sweet face when he was offering to help? If anyone was going to make progress, it was going to be him, but she would be ready to help if called upon. She stayed where she was, ready to move to the other side and assist with the move. Surely the two of them would be able to provide enough assistance!

Possibly one of the last things that Alysanne expected to happen was for the pale, sickly mare to look at her and say someone else’s name. Not just someone else, but someone she knew. “Dragomir?” She repeated, dumbly, at first as she tried to figure out just where that thought had been going. It was a small world, she didn’t know why it surprised her that – of all the names – she would hear that one but it did. She felt Mikey looking at her and returned his glance for a moment before the movement caused her headband to jingle and she realized what the elderly mare was looking at. “Oh!” Dragomir was the Glazier for the Edge!

Well that explained it! How silly of her not to make that connection right away – sometimes she just plain forgot that little decoration was there. A smile grew again then having established this and she looked back to the mare. “He’s a friend – I live in the Edge with him.” Alysanne doesn’t really feel like mentioning that it was Kahlua, not Dragomir, that had gifted her this headband. She was just happy for the connection with this mare, maybe they’d be able to use it to give her some help.

Close as she is, she can see light glinting off of something buried in the tangles of the mare’s mane and she recognized the shine of glass – hard not to, when it was so common around the Edge. “Did he make the decorations in your hair? They’re beautiful.”


@[Sheba]

You are surprised when he scolds you, in a voice so paternal it aches. Not that you would know the love of a father if it turned into a serpent and bit you on the nose, though you’ve hungered for it all your life. Still, his reprimand silences you for a moment as it catches you off guard, and it is then that you finally receive a name to put to the face that has plagued your nightmares for the past three seasons. “The god of the sun?” you rasp, half-doubtfully…yet half-wondering. “God of the sun, my—” Another coughing fit interrupts your would-be unladylike outburst. Could it be? You’ve never been much of one to believe in gods (or kings either, for that matter), but these are strange lands with strong magic.

“What did he do to me?” you finally wheeze when the coughing has subsided. “This, monsieur, this!” you hiss, gesturing at your own emaciated body in disgust. “I suppose you wouldn’t believe me, but I was a great beauty once.” Your tone grows bitter again at the revelation, for by now the truth seems far-fetched even to you. How long has it been since your pale hide was soft and smooth, your hollowed ribs full with the skin stretched beautifully over your slim barrel? How long since your hair was luxurious, weighed down by heavy braids and delicate ornaments? In truth, the ornaments are all that remain, and they only serve to make a mockery of you with their ethereal beauty so out of place in your ratted mane.

And it seems that the pegasus mare has noticed them. At first, she looks confused when you mention Dragomir’s name, but soon enough, your meaning becomes apparent to her. From the ground, you watch impatiently as the thought dawns on her and recognition sets her wide eyes alight. “He’s a friend,” Aly tells you, in a tone so sickeningly soothing that it actually comforts you. “I live in the Edge with him.” Dragomir, you think with a strange touch of fondness. If only you weren’t so terribly ugly, you would have liked to see him again.

However, Aly’s affirmation mollifies you, and you decide that you might as well let this pair help you. By now you are sure that they are no threat to you, and quite truthfully, you’re rather beginning to enjoy their attentions. “Well,” you mutter begrudgingly, “If you’re going to help me, you might as well get on with it. I can’t get up on my own, you know.” Painstakingly, you stretch your neck out and try to shift your weight. If they can help you roll onto your belly, perhaps you can get your legs under you, and with their assistance, rise. You suppose that you can put off dying for another day.


"talk talk talk"

Not to be obnoxious, just tagging @[Alysanne] since it's been a bit and it's easy to lose track!

OOC: Sorry she's such a poop xD

Alysanne

The pale mare gave them consent to try to get her up to somewhere more dry, to that sunny patch not too far off, and Alysanne was relieved. It did not matter to her that there was anything but gratitude in the voice that they were treated with - neither her nor Mikey were the type to turn away from someone if they needed help, whatever their attitude. Besides, she figured that it was merely a result of where she was lying, it could not be comfortable. Surely this mare would feel much better once she was dry and safe! Even the kindest soul was bound to feel a little grumpy while lying in a cold, muddy puddle that they were unable to get out of on their own.

Alysanne could feel Miykael’s eyes on her, his attention making her uncomfortable but she was thankful that there was a reason for it this time - a reason that was not them so she had little problem in meeting his gaze. A nod of encouragement was given, urging him to move ahead with the plan. It was better to get it over with as soon as possible and not stand around here, talking while their new friend remained uncomfortable by their hooves.

Arranging herself quickly, she stood over the mare and wrapped her head around the old unicorn’s back as best as she could to pull assist Miykael as he pushed from his side. “Let me know if we’re hurting you, dear.” She offered softly, remaining conscious of how strong her touch was the entire time - hoping that she wasn’t causing bruises on such a delicate looking frame.

They may be worth it if it saved her life but Alysanne wasn’t fond of the idea of causing any more trouble than need be.

Once she was on her belly, Alysanne took a step back and paused for a moment before moving in again, readying herself to get to the tricky part. Though she was rather worried, a kind smile stayed where it was in her emerald eyes. Neither her nor Mikey were going to let this old mare die - not today, nor any day soon if they could help it. “Not so bad, huh? Alright now, we’ll help you stand up.” It was her turn to look to her friend, making sure that he was ready, before speaking to them both. “Ready? 1… 2… 3!”