Rumors had been whispered faintly into the harlequin's ears, but they had been feeble words, twirling aimlessly along the steady streams of the wind. They had promised a change in leadership, that Gossamer and her lover no longer reigned supreme over the vast, luscious, yet relatively stagnate region - at least as of late - that was the Windtossed Foothills.

Not only that, but they had suggested their new superior to be a particularly valiant stallion: one that Valhalla had nearly been with so long ago; a once desired, eligible companion; the sire of a foal he had never known. The hapless young child had become a stranger to even the one who had given her life, estranged from her mother's side far too soon. She was gone, likely claimed by the consuming shades that had terrorized the fair maiden's beloved land of moonlight. Yet another casualty of war. She sighed solemnly, as if dismissing the chronically disheartening memory of the land of her birth.

She sometimes wished she could just forget that Isilme had ever existed, to wipe it clean from her memory, for despite the pristine image she had amassed of that wondrous place, not even it had been perfectly devoid of inadequacy.

But that is the past, now - it's what she always tried to convince herself, and yet this melancholic state never so much as evidenced the slightest hint of wavering. Perhaps all the weight of her past is what stifled her, bearing down in a great heap of regret and deficiency: of hopes shattered and dispersed into the whimsical caprices of the wind. She grunted. All this emotional concavity, persistently marring her true demeanor, was growing bothersome.

What had she become?

Cavalier hooves soon found a diminutive pool of water: rain droplets which had collected into a shallow depression in the loorien. Her nostrils flexed with a deep exhale as she lowered her face to the reflective puddle, ripples propagating across the surface as her lips scanned slowly across it. She grunted deeply, a contralto grunt rumbling deep in her throat. Her brows furrowed, and she outstretched a dappled leg to shatter the image which had manifested.

Nothing felt normal or sane anymore. She wanted nothing more than to regain some semblance of what normalcy had once existed; to rewind time and fix the mistakes she had made; to claim Paladin when she had had the chance.

What of destiny? Kismet? Did she believe in such things? Not even she was entirely sure, but that had become maddeningly routine.

The mare's pricked ears were magnetized by the bristling tenor of a stallion's voice - one so familiar. For a moment, she watched him blankly, frozen in uncertainty, as if his endearingly crimson eyes had transmit a paralyzing signal. He spoke her name, and his words danced intimately through her mane, twirling the strands through docile fingers. Don't be a coward.

She couldn't help but smile. To see her name upon his lips had slightly lifted her spirits, and she regarded him cordially, her expression tainted with a melancholic twinge. As much as she tried to disguise it, it just wasn't entirely possible. "Paladin." She returned, dipping her head in acknowledgement, her voice alluded with an odd sort of ease. She tried to expel her attention from the way his raspy voice clung to her pricked ears like a cobweb. It was daunting the affect he had upon her, and she snorted restrainedly before searching for an answer to his question, which she wasn't entirely certain how to answer.

Her mouth was dry, and instead, she simply nodded, watching with an awkwardly displayed grin as he neared. Something was different about him. His eyes seemed more weary, his hide marred with a wide legion of unsightly scars, his mane scorched and rather unimpressive.

These things did little to diminish her attraction toward him. In fact, they made him seem more imposing, more masculine. Still, time had not been kind to him, she thought, but neither had time been gentle on her. He evidenced no sign of his inner turmoil, and he therefore remained a mystery to Valhalla. "I hear you've become king once again?" She said, stating the obvious. She craned her neck toward him and nudged him fondly on the nape, a smile curling her sooty, slate gray lips. "You deserve this, Paladin."

She wondered if he would remember a similar phrase being uttered from her lips long ago, though that had been a much different scenario.