We're volcanoes in the night
Glowing in the dark like meteorites

✞✞✞

There became a whirlwind of activity (read: slight breeze that ruffled the edges of conversation) that increased the melted-mares disinterest in the topics floating about, her mind once more wandering to places far away from which they stood, to a time that was neither future nor past.
If only she were able to make the arduous trek back to her home village, share what little yet enthralling news she had gathered in her short time amid the trees in Helovia. Even there there existed a God of the Moon and she had managed to find its very divine; with her beloved Dagger she would be able to follow in his steps and he could lead her toward their patron of the night. How different would she be from the one in Vestiomel? The question was rhetorical in the white-faced's mind, for it mattered not to her the disposition or visage for which the God took--she would trail her shadows all the same.

She snapped back to there just as Alune's regards to Rift trailed off, and the porcelain girl chirpped her discrepancies. Simultaneously the saturated stallion began his departure, and black eyes caught his goodbyes. She in turn bowed her head to his moving figure, pleased that Dagger had at least offered her explanation for their refusal. Even still something tightened in her chest at the fallen expression upon his face, and she very nearly broke her vow of silence to mend the frayed emotions when Dagger's own words filled the spaces themselves. Skull-marks turned in her direction while eyes slipped to the young hybrid's thin frame, head shaking in short, soft succession at her unicorn friend. She would know that it meant the point was futile, trying to appease Erthë, following up her venom-laced accusations with answers. Smoothing her ruffled feathers was not something to be done with words, but letting her bath in her anger until she came out of its embrace herself. The pair could not please everyone who crossed before them; sometimes it wasn't their job to help them out of their irritation either.

Finally the moon boy's words, an invitation to the very place Erthë least wanted them, broke the tension and the Arab took but few small steps in his direction, pointedly accepting. Her features softened for the first time in that meeting, grateful for his service, black-tinged lips curving in the most subtle of smiles. No matter the length of the walk they would have to make, she was pleased--after so long of searching for that land, they finally fell straight into its lap at the foot of the Moon Goddess.