I woke with a start. Tis uncomfortable, prickly hot, even though there's a disgusting sheen of cold sweat sliding down my undercarriage. "Ye cried out, again..." Wide, alarmed globes turn to the one who'd spoke; not aloud, but in my mind. Fina could rarely be bothered with concern -- but these unstable irritants kept occurring, and they're getting noticeably worse, instead of better. Another nightmare -- an army of three stood around me, those horrific, unstoppable wraiths. Is this punishment for failure? An eternity spent, watching Seele die again and again. Yar, a question my present company couldn't answer, so I placed it aside for later consideration.

Fina croaks evenly, "Earth came." Aye, say true...How could I've forgotten? I'd had one other dream during the night, "I know." My tone is groggy, but even and in some semblance, normal. Limbs unhook their rigid hold, my knees pop audibly as I move slowly from beneath the shade of an ol'oak tree. Neve flutters down from a perch to rest upon my spine, those tiny swords gently couple with fur. "P-ay?" She murmurs softly. I glance back, softening visibly. A tiny crease lifts one corner a little, "Nay, not now." Much to everyone's surprise, instead of sulking, Neve merely nods understandably and falls respectfully silent.

Clearing pools turn to greet a brightening day, another sunrise drenched the empty, navy canvas with fire. As my eldest companion pointed out. Earth came to me in the early evening, via a dream, or vision as they call them. His watchful eyes are constantly seeking a suitable boon to aid our cause. One section of His family was lacking, our crafting projects were making slow progress; Elsa couldn't handle the work alone. Especially with her newfound responsibilities. I could only imagine the exhaustion which came from raising twins.

Dried needles and scattered oak leavings take on a mythical hue, tis unnatural but no less beautiful. The color lingers for only a moment, but its a constant, expectant trail as my painted frame turns to walk toward the meadow which lay just beyond view. The silver rise of metal around my breast glimmers and reflects the sunlight. Those heated fingers are warm, they sooth this conflicted spirit. I move to stand in plain view, just ahead of the treeline. Basking in its glow -- letting the rampant cruelty of night slip away.

We could find Rasta later...

It always amazed me that Rasta could maneuver her way through the trees and bramble, hardly a twig would find room to latch and no hair would jar out of place. Her grace made the rest of us appear as flopping elephants, stomping noisily around the forest. She knew who I was instantly, likely by scent. That gentle beam is returned with one of polite likeness, I bowed my crown to those sightless pools. The final threads of discomfort and memory of my stressful night seemed far removed, "Aye," agreement. Tis an understatement, yon sun felt glorious. "The glow suits ye," an innocent compliment, meant to be taken for face value, because I'd not be caught a liar.

Behind me a curious set of pools are watching the little fledgling she dispenses onto the swaying turf. A bright smile spreads her beak wide and a soft musical note springs free, "P-ay!" She croaks in the old speech. Flapping those ivory feathers that beam with brightness when they are brushed by light. Neve sprang from my back and lands awkwardly upon the ground. With wings still outspread, she picks at a piece of grass, drops it and hops a few steps forward, then a step back. Luring that little avian to participate in a game of chase.

I'm distracted by their harmless play, "Yar, a hawk?" Tis young, hardly old enough to be free of its nest. All this suited Neve beyond words. There are few adults willing to play games.

Neve returned his immature chortle with one of her own well meant tunes (aye, though the notes are scrambled and sound more like a cry of agony than one of pleasure or enjoyment.) All things improved with age -- hopefully her singing was among them. She was unphased by my opinion and urgently torn off another long, green blade. Acting as if there wasn't a second to spare the Zephry proceeded to hop away into yon undergrowth; pausing only long enough to swing her head round and flash a most convincing smile. Aiming to lure the fledgling to come along.

Rasta mentions a completed quest; aye, I remembered well...though those days seemed ages ago. Yar, time was funny that way. Crown bobs in agreement, a light chuckle slips from my chest, "Aye, Neve." I watch them trail off, my fondness for the child has already spread higher into the realm of love. After a moment, my attention shifts to those sightless pools. They harbor no light, no life. Tis difficult to peer at my reflection and see nothing of hers. As Da would say, (before the world moved on), 'The eyes are a window to thee soul.'

Nar, Rasta's windows are murky. "Thee has perfect timing actually," fate (just like time) was funny like that, "I have news for ye. Earth has come to me in a dream, yar, vision -- he has chosen ye to rise as a Mason for this family." My voice trails off toward the end, I search her delicate face for signs of approval or rejection.

Tis a huge step to take on the responsibility of managing magic for a herd. Aye, overseeing lesser apprentices, and completing projects that often drained the user of energy. She calls it an honor; which is true, but its more a necessity for us (the herd) to be served, than for anyone to be rewarded. As a group, we functioned together, and only together.

Otherwise, this whole family would crumble apart.

I've every confidence in Earth's decision and in this lady herself. She'd do well at the art of craft -- yar, I find myself beaming brighter when Rasta agrees wholeheartedly and extends herself warmly, solidifing and sharing the joy she felt. Without hesitation I reach forward to celebrate, making brief contact against her plush muzzle. Taking half a heartbeat to breath deep that warm, almost milky scent with the gentlest of sweeps.

Rarely did a summons fail.

Yar. Nothing reminds, aside from a few words of formality. "With Earth as our witness, I name thee Mason and bestow upon ye all the entitlement and power associated with that title." The transfer of power would be instant, (or so they say,) every description was unique in how the user accepted his/her newfound talent. Neve burst into view with a mouthful of cloverleaf still hanging inside her jaw. Green blood was smeared across her chest like a sorely won badge. She muched on the clover for a brief moment, then suddenly started spitting it out after deciding by the (?) number of bites she didn't favor the leaf.

I pause to think of a suitable answer. Gilden gems momentarily flick to the hobbling fledge, who'd found an amusement of sorts. Wordless attention lingers with impassive interest; while this mind considers the possible objectives we'd need to reach for a fulfilling future, "Elsa can give ye direction and work." Our newest mother had done much for this family, and the majority of her efforts have been accomplished alone.

Aid came from myself in completing the task of our final prison. "I'd ask ye for guidance on an idea," lips pursed together, tightening into a fine line, "for those without the ability of flight -- their is one entrance within this valley and out." Honeyed pools drift beyond the meadow, then shift comfortably back to her sightless gems. "Would ye be willing to aid me in making a second exit? Should an emergency arise -- I'd rather our helpless and elders not be trapped within."

Ghost would have to be informed of course...I'd not broached the topic with her as of yet. Though it wasn't assumed to be a task that she'd have an issue with -- especially since tis in regard to be a safeguarding measure that would ensure the safety and longevity of this family. "We could form it from the belly of the mountain," a secret passage. Yar, it sounded like a grand idea...one of impressive scale. Aye. Good thing I'd multiple lifetimes to use for spending, because alone...it would take a lifetime to see such lofty idea to completion, without aid