Tandavi

I'll light a fire in your new shoes.

They ascend in a still and tranquil mood, shadows back-lit by the setting sun. The stone is worn and familiar beneath their feet, a pilgrimage made more often by the children than perhaps any others in Helovia. The girl has always been drawn to spirituality, a magnet existing between herself and the Gods. Only Time has eluded her watchful gaze, and though she doubts she will encounter any of her deities tonight, she hopes one day to meet even him, to show her dedication to the causes of balance and justice and light. She finds it comfortable, to put her faith in something bigger than herself: and thus far it has not led her wrong. From daughter of the Moon Mare to Sultana of the Sun, the Fire Dancer has walked in the shadows of Gods for all her life, a quiet observer and patient student of time.

But most of all, light.

She approaches the crest at a determined pace, black eyes attentive as the rocky slope gives way to the sanctum of the Gods. So focused is the Fire Dancer upon her goal that she does not see the shadow crossing the sky; it is her brother who cries jovially and makes her halt, turning as hooves crash upon the rocky earth. Before she can speak her shadow is gone, darting off toward the chocolate mare who brings with her so many memories of the desert, of home. An escort, a squire in a dusting of gold, the fox leads the mare with triplicate tails held proudly erect, escorting their visitor toward where Tandavi has turned, a faint smile pulling the lines of her face.

"Megaera," she replies, deep voice a pocket of nighttime in the Fire Dancer's face. "We are going to visit the Gods." There is pleasure in the resonant tones, a heartfelt relief at finding herself back among familiar faces- she had not realized how much she missed the people of the desert before this moment, and it hits her with the force of a heatwave, a dry wind.

She tilts her head, the glowing stone around her neck casting shadows, letting critical eyes sweep across the... warrior? Yes, that's what Megaera had been, a warrior, and the girl realizes with a start that she knows almost nothing else about the mare, despite once having called herself a Queen. How foolish she had been then, how dismally and unintentionally aloof! She had never noticed the warrior's scars, let alone known how she got them. She had never sparred with the mare, asked what she could teach her, what they could teach each other. She does not know the mare, not the way she had known those in the mountains, each one a pinprick of light forever in her mind.

She decides there and then, that this is something to change.

Turning, the girl leads the way toward the trail's crest, trinkets glowing in the fading light. She is glad, too, for the company and the way it keeps the dark at bay; the stalwart presence of Megaera at her side is a welcome distraction from the rise of night, the tendrils of darkness which send fear through her heart. She has a million questions about the Throat, her family, Helovia, time. Not knowing how to begin, the girl starts bluntly, vaguely, unhelpfully. "What has changed?"

Her brother groans in silence, pointing out the broadness of such a question, but the moonbeam girl shrugs him off, her gaze still half on the auburn mare. But fine- "Your magic is new," she quietly adds, pausing a moment to take in the sensory information of it. Her hooves grow still and she closes her eyes, inhaling deeply and exhaling a soft "Peppery. Red." Dark eyes open and train once more on the mare, a thoughtful look on the moonstruck face. "It's strong. What is it?"