You don’t know how you’ve managed to drag yourself up here in the state you’re in, but you want out. As soon as you were well enough to travel, you vowed to return to the scene of the crime—you would demand your body back, and you wouldn’t take no for an answer! Of course, the flame-covered stranger would have to be there, which he hadn’t the last three times you’d gone looking in this place. Yet desperation drives us all to do strange things, and so here you are again, hauling your sorry carcass up the mountainside with an insane glint in your eye. He has to be here!

As you reach the summit, your frail lungs struggle to take in the thinner air, causing your glaring ribs to heave up and down. You cough, sending tufts of your patchy shedding coat adrift on the spring breeze, and your nose wrinkles in disgust: you may have grown more accustomed to this body you’re trapped in, but you will always hate it. The thought of spending the rest of your days in this sack of bones is so unbearable to you that even death might be welcome—but you have a feeling that even Death wouldn’t do you the small favor of leaving a pretty corpse.

Once you catch your breath, you raise your head, rheumy eyes scanning the field. Surprise, surprise; it’s empty. A bitter taste fills your mouth, but you won’t be deterred that easily. Maybe he’s here somewhere—you just need to figure out how to lure him out of hiding.

@[Rostislav]

If you walk through the fields, you may stumble across me. Lying like a dead body in the field, I don't move an inch. No, it's not a drunken stupor, though from the residual smell on my face you might not notice the difference. I haven't been drinking as much as I used to, and nowadays my need to drink has been more casual than... an immediate necessity. No, this is the normal sleep that comes with any creature. Except that I enjoy sleeping at any time of day, not just at night. I snore loudly, my side moving awkwardly and my nostrils flaring. Damaris lies sprawled on my side, her body moving up and down as my ribcage expands and contracts. She is awake, keeping guard over the two of us. She will nap some other time when I am awake. When I sleep this hard there is little that wakes me.

So, you know, if there's some old acquaintance that comes up and finds me, it might take a little effort and Damaris's help to get my attention. I ought to be looking for Kiara, but I have found myself needing a nap first. She is my baby mama, or so she told me, and I want to make sure she's okay - after all, her previous baby experiences weren't all that great - but we keep ending up in different places at different times. It's not very conducive to woman-watching. Damaris watches around us, her green eyes glowing less in the daylight than they do in the evening. Sheba may find me an interesting subject to converse with.

"."

So he’s not here now. So what? You’ve survived this long—you might have succumbed to death, but if anything, sheer spite has kept you alive, and you won’t rest until you find him. Anger boils hot in your veins, hot like the fire that sprang from his back and wings…the flaming stranger that Miykael called a god. A god! You should have guessed. Only a god, if there was such a creature, would think it funny to toy with you, to watch you scuttle around like an ant to and from the corners of Helovia and dragging your useless body all the way. Did he think he could break you?

You took precautions against that long ago, you remember fiercely. You steeled yourself against desire, but this creature had found the chink in your armor, the crack in the wall. Stupid, stupid girl! You had wanted too much again, only you had never guessed that this type of longing would get you into trouble as well. How dare you, you think with jagged sarcasm, how dare you desire to reclaim some of the power stolen from you so many years ago?

For the first time, the anger bubbles over. Temporarily forgotten are the shame and the fatigue; there is only rage. Rage, at the god (if that’s what he is) for tricking you, at yourself for underestimating him, at the whole awful world for everything else. ENOUGH.

“Venez!” you scream to the heavens, launching into an awkwardly heaving canter. “Show yourself, you coward!” Perhaps you’re making a scene…but perhaps that’s exactly what you want.


@[Rostislav]

I wake with a start, knocking Damaris ungracefully to the ground. I struggle to my feet, and my eyes are wide as I look around to find the source that has woken me. That awkward screeching that rang in my eardrums and DEMANDED my attention. Damaris swats at my leg, annoyed at me for dumping her so unceremoniously. I ignore her because I see before me a familiar sight - the grey unicorn with the gold horn. Did I ever learn her proper name? I remember now that the name she had given me hadn't seemed quite right.

She's making all sorts of racket and cantering wildly. Toward me. I move in her path and stand like a mountain, unmovable. Although I'm sure if she doesn't stop and slams into me as she's headed for right now that I will certainly tumble over. I am not a mountain as much as I like to imagine that I have such capabilities. Damaris curls up where I've dumped her, out of the way and more or less uninterested in whatever is going on. She watches silently, ready to jump up to defend me if necessary. 'You are foolish.' She says as if scolding me, but instead it's endearing. I smile and look back at her with love, ignoring the oncoming mare.

I hope she has the good sense to stop. As she approaches, I call out to her. "Please don't trample me, Miss! Perhaps I can assist you in your troubles?" Troubled she is, after all. No one could possibly make such noise without being troubled. At least, that's my understanding of it.

"."
@[Sheba]

It seems that the field is not so deserted after all, for as you thunder around wildly, a pudgy figure jerks upwards from the grass just ahead, clearly startled from some blissful slumber. Eyes dart sharply to the form, and there are the horns…but no wings, no fire, and this one’s disappointingly brown. Wait…do you know him?

Rostislav’s familiar face comes into view as he stumbles around to face you, and you feel your heart sink. Clumsy canter slows to a jolting trot, and your expression sours. Of all the old acquaintances to run into…! You remember that you once despised him for his ugliness, the darkest of shadows in the shining light of your beauty (vanity), and now…well, it’s a bitter pill to swallow, but it’s safe to say that you’re much uglier than he ever was. Your face, once so delicately dished, is now distorted with age, and your hair, once so shining and well-kept, is a mere mass of tangled knots. Perhaps he won’t recognize you?

Maybe not, for he calls out to you—and not by name, though you’re sure that you gave yours to him so many seasons ago. "Please don't trample me, Miss! Perhaps I can assist you in your troubles?" Though you have indeed slowed, you eye him suspiciously. Does he know, or doesn’t he? His tone is certainly different, much softer than the lewdness he showed you on the island—but then again, what is there to be lewd about? You’re not exactly the fairest in the land any more.

“Not unless you’ve seen Fireball—or the sun god, as some fools like to call him,” you call roughly, stopping a safe distance away, hoping that if you don’t get to close, his chances of recognizing you will decrease. “He’s the one I’m looking for.”

@[Rostislav]

To my relief, she brakes before she hits me. In fact she stops a little ways away, as if she doesn't want me to get to close. I groan as my muscles reluctantly move me forward. Suddenly the name of the lady pops into my mind, matching her face. "Sheba!" I close the distance between us, getting a better view of her. She does not look so wonderful as she had the last time we met, and I wonder if she has undergone more than the usual wear and tear. She seems displeased, or uninterested at best, to see me, and instead asks if I know where the Sun God has gone. Damaris trails behind me, coming to sit next to my feet again. We both stare at the mare, rather stupidly. I shrug at her inquiry. "No, I haven't seen him around." Perhaps it is stress or worry that has aged her. I remember her vanity, and that I needed to play games if I wanted to get in her pants. But I'm not quite as pressed to get in ANYONE'S pants just now. After all, I just had Vitani with Kiara. I must look after my newborn before I risk making anymore.

"Is there any particular reason that you are looking for him? You seem so upset, have you been wronged by him?" Even if she had, there was not much that she could do. The Gods do their own thing and if we don't like it, who are we to say otherwise? We may have magic, some of us, but that is as easily taken from us as it was given. We must abide by what the Gods say and do, and take our medicine as told. Put on the best face you can.

"."

“Sheba!” he calls, recognition dawning on his face, and you cringe. If you had to be ugly, why couldn’t Fireball made you have look like someone else—like this brute, how about him? Instead you’re trapped inside your own body, forced to watch as Rostislav puts two and two together (none too quickly, either), and you tense as you wait for the mocking laughter you are sure is to come. After all, had you been he, you would have been taunting you mercilessly by now. You weren’t the most pleasant during your last encounter, and unwittingly, you’ve given him the perfect opportunity for revenge.

…But the laughter doesn’t come. He merely stares at you for a moment or two, dog at his side, then shrugs halfheartedly. “No, I haven’t seen him around.” You groan inwardly. You should have expected as much help from him. But then you wonder—what if he had seen Fireball? Then what would be worse: your current predicament, or actually being indebted to him for the information? Compared to the hypothetical you’ve just conjured up, you suppose that his answer is the best you could have hoped for.

And then he really throws you for a loop. “Is there any particular reason that you are looking for him? You seem so upset; have you been wronged by him?” Rostislav asks, with…is that genuine concern in his voice? His unexpected empathy startles you visibly, and the sour response you had ready withers and dies on your tongue. Dark lips twitch as you return his gaze dumbly, and you struggle wordlessly for a moment. Then, you decide: why not? And the barrier between you crumbles as you succumb to the pull of kindness and take a handful of hesitant steps towards him.

“As a matter of fact, I have,” you begin—not exactly warmly, but there is no sting to the words, only self-pity and the quiet, very subtle desperation of one who has been lonely for far too long. “As you may remember, when we met, I didn’t look like this…” And you’re off, explaining to him in so many words how the sun god took your beauty away for the promise of a gift you’re sure to never receive. “I was a fool,” you conclude bitterly, loathing yourself even as you admit it. You never expected to show Rostislav such vulnerability, but really…what more do you have to lose?


@[Rostislav]

She's still the self-important spitfire that she was the first time I met her, but that doesn't mean that things can't change, at least a little. I've clearly shocked her with my lack of mocking retort. I'm not in love with her or her personality, nor am I really concerned about her. Of course I don't approve of the Gods taking advantage of us 'normal' folks, and so I'm curious if she has actually been wronged by the Sun God. Besides, I'm rather worn out and don't feel like pestering her or getting into a squabble just now. Instead, I play it cool, and it clearly knocks her off her game. Then I'm surprised when she fails to fling a spicy retort at me. A calm Sheba? Crazy. 'Well, hear her out, why don't you?'

And I do. Sheba seems to come to the same conclusion and begins to speak, explaining to me why exactly she's in such a rage with the god of flame. '..when we met, I didn't look like this...' No, no she didn't. She was quite beautiful, blessed with an untainted, flawless appearance, and I had the hots for her. I wanted to tap that like a hammer dies to tap a nail. Of course she kept pulling my leg, leading me on. I thought I'd keep playing her games in hope that I would get what I sought. I didn't... and it was probably for the best. Now I've moved on, and it seems she has, too. Though where I have risen, she has fallen. But I don't comment or make fun. I'm sure I would be in a piss poor mood if I were in her place. Her supposed deal with the Sun God sounds strange, and I think it would be wrong to doubt a God's promise. 'I'm was a fool.' It shocks me to hear her say this, and I go to shock us both by showing a rare bit of wisdom.

"Perhaps you were a fool. Or rather, perhaps you are quite foolish for doubting the God of the Sun. Or even by choosing to put vanity first and before him. What cause have you to think that he should break his promise to you?" Damaris yips at the unicorn, agreeing with me. She does not know much of the Gods, but her instincts tell her that she should trust the Gods at all cost - only trusting me beyond them.

"."

@[Sheba]