“Orithia,” Iona echoed, with a small dip of her dark head in greeting.  Her green gaze flicked from the woman back to the stallion as he spoke once more as words were exchanged.

Iona was beginning to pull her own understand from the woman’s words and couldn’t help but think that this desert stallion was playing with fire.  Of course it was all fill in the blanks, but Iona could see bits of her younger self in the girl.  She saw fire that was nowhere near contained.  Orithia burned like a raw flame, just waiting for an opportunistic accelerant to come close enough to trigger an explosion.  There was a rawness there that made her unpredictable.  But that fire gave her power too and so much potential. Iona wondered if the girl even knew. She also wondered if she’d be amenable to living in a herd and channeling that fire, or if she was destined for the life of an outcast here in Helovia. 

The mare’s words echoed in Iona’s head.  They all deserve it. ”Many do. Trust me, I would know,” the painted mare said bluntly, shifting her great black wings and revealing some of the horrific scars that were hidden when her wings were folded at her sides.  Her wings had nearly been torn from her sides.  Pieces from her flesh had been ripped from her neck – she had watched as she had been consumed while she was tortured with hallucinations she was powerless to stop. Iona had her own demons.  It just so happened that Iona’s demons were…actual demons. Demons she had spent years of her life hunting down and sending back to the underworld.  But vengeance had become a dish she had lost taste for as she aged and she now had to find new ways to channel everything she kept wrapped up inside.  Rather than vanquishing those that hurt had the potential to hurt others, she was more focused on protecting those that were still here.  Even she wasn’t quite sure how this particular mission was going.  She had only come to Helovia to find her sister a season prior. 

Iona watched quietly for a moment, before speaking again.  So, Miseal was from the Desert.  Iona hadn’t yet visited the southernmost herd but had made a note to do so sometime in the future. Perhaps when the weather turned cold in the winter.  The dark pegasus watched Orithia’s reaction to the stallion’s speech – she wasn’t sure how the inquiry to her history would be met due to her overall defensiveness, but was intrigued to know all the same – but instead she mentioned her own home. ”Like Misael here I also have a herd – the World’s Edge - on the sea cliffs in the west.  There was certainly a note of fondness in her voice – Iona had grown attached to the sea cliffs already. 

Even though she knew it might be hasty, she decided to float the offer of a home to the mare.  She was intrigued, and thought the mare had the potential to flourish in a herd…if she gave it a chance. ”I can offer you a home there, though there are some conditions. If you felt like you had to settle your differences with a herdmate, it would have to be done fairly on the battlefield.  Or, you know, with words.” Iona adds the last bit with a small shrug and a wry smile. She imagined not eating herdmates was probably an implied rule.