"I'm so stupid..." these wordless lips would never speak the common tongue; still, they shuffle apart out of habit -- even if no sound can come forth. Privately I sulk and march the hours away on this cold, windy, moonless night. Though none of those environmental aspects bothered me; the crisp northern breeze is a dear friend and a slight comfort. Silver droplets moisten the corner of my eyes, pride forces them back as I swallow a silent sob. It's true when men say the heart of a young girl is a chasm; tricky to navigate -- a dangerous hole that makes false echo's for those that hunt for her gentle touch.

Emotions are what did start my search for a dark scent and crimson hair; the security of smooth flesh pressed against my shoulder, a silver stare and tender voice whispering a lullaby into the night. But that journey was just as pointless as my life has been -- the path I'd led over the course of two long years, had come full circle. Here I am again; call it déjà vu. Should've never have left.

The spawn of a thief and frozen king; a child of ice and passion. Nameless, a bastard babe, outcast, orphan, homeless. All those labels hit nothing, no cord within me; they'd never bothered my sleep or occupied a space in this curious mind. Titles are often used to describe an individual, if they where strong or brave, foolish, hardy, evil -- we christened them with a name.

These feet remember scarce few of the narrow hind trails I've traveled. The forgiving soil beneath me is moist with sweat, the vegetation dead or asleep. This land was well underway for Frostfall to make an entrance. Yet, there was one inhabitant that hasn't prepared for the cold. My weary stare finds the path ahead to be broken, twisted; memories scramble to make sense of the smoky colored branches that litter the way. Those inky, itchy shadows take all familiar would-be away.

This trail forks, branching off to the northeast and west. I pause in the center, frowning, scanning and weighting my skimpy options. A soundless mist extends from my jaw and another pitiful rise of anxiety whelps anew. What was the point of this? Why was I back?

Who can say for how long I've uselessly debated; seconds, minutes? Unshed tears clog my pores, they threaten to spill across those walls that have held them at bay for so long. There was no reason to hold back. Or so my mind did concoct. It became sadly obvious that my presence had lingered long enough for someone to overtake me on this dim lit trail. Ivory crowned skull slides right, carrying my gaze to peer grimly at the visitor through waltzing smoke. Composer. Nobody enjoys fighting tears in front of a stranger; though sobbing was worse. After a hard swallow I work on composing -- reining in this emotionally pent heart. Warring to halt that onslaught of quivering -- I'm becoming a pitiful idiot... With vainly concealed effort I've choked down discomfort and urged these toes to dance left; hopefully allowing the stranger ample passage on by. Keep going.

That silvery pelt she wore is shimmery and slightly inked; in this masked light my narrow gaze can just make out the fine bridge of an ashy nose. Gems drift humbly to the ground; fine wrinkles around both eyes tighten in reply to her exclamation of my physical appearance -- it should be nothing unusual, I'd heard such comments before. Still, I've never been numb to their reations -- its bothersome...being...different.

Nyx recovers and introduces herself; my first answer is a silent sigh that mists around the lavender flare of these nostrils. Weak frustration for this whole circumstance is now glowing like an ember and pushing aside my mulling grief; both of which are now directed at the woman who'd vocalized my insecurities. Pools slip up with more strength, hooking that vibrant stare which had bore into my body like a small child would regard a foreign insect. With no thought to any surprise or rejection that might occur, my silvery threads reach for Nyx's mind from the bottom of my soul; they dance, stretching until I'm lurking on the outskirts of her very spirit -- which is nestled beneath the fleshcoat we wore.

Tethering a inward connection is far more intimate than vocal words alone; through the bond she would (if I choose) feel the vulnerability, mistrust and frustration that circles this heart like a vulture. A mental link is the only way I can communicate, "I don't know..." Those words are crisp, unmistakable, clear cut -- yet, there was also a childlike softness, and somehow breakable note. Before anything more could be added, another figure walks in from the darkness; she marches from the shadows alongside a coal colored companion. The sight of this pair sparks my memories to glow, I'd seen that face before; somewhere. Both brows narrow, genuine befuddlement filters across my blank expression. Where?

Honeyed lips stretch, my name is upon her tongue; trigging recollection. She knows me...? Mirrors scrunch together, confusion gives way to encouragement. Eager to settle our connection, I unnoticeably toss one of many mental cords to Kiara. For some reason those sections of my mind are dark, dusted by the years. Kiara face and name swirls around my frontal lobe, dipping in and out of gullies. Suddenly, a snapshot comes to mind; of warmth and gentle green eyes looming overhead with earnest intent. The scent rain. Strength. Realization pulls my lids higher, the beginnings of a softer expression tempt the gloom I've worn into a brief retreat. Tethering our link with practiced ease, "I remember you..." A mental flash of that murky moment slips through the bond into both of their minds. Of me weak, dejected, nearly dead; her kindness and warmth filling every crevice to the brim -- restoring life to these bones and flesh that was sapped.

My savior from two years prier mentions that her home has been taken by the former leaders of Edge territory. (Or at least that's what I've pieced together...) Though for a homeless rogue, Kiara doesn't sound resentful. Even so, her choice of words leaves one wondering. A slight assumption is stirring in my gut, perhaps there was bad blood involved. But this heart has zero room for speculation, I'm a stranger to these lands -- despite being native. Hearing landscape titles felt strange....like these ears are sampling names from a foal tale and not real life. Biogems shift to Nyx for a reply.