Eventide is softly casting o'er the earth a magic spell,

And a love-song, everlasting, on the night wind seems to swell.

Sometimes you just had to get out of the house and smell the fresh air. Thoughts have a tendency to grow stale and repetitive if mulled over too many times, and the worst thing the filly knew was to do things over and over again. Hers was a spirit of creation, of discovery and exploration, a mind to question and learn and contemplate. The problem was that everyone kept treating her as the child her body suggested she ought to be, even though the workings of her thoughts matured at an almost alarming rate. Boredom was a very real thing now that the world was at peace, and the child who had been at the center of world-spanning events almost from the moment she was born was growing restless.

Slowly, hampered by gimpy legs and the inability to make use of her pearly wings, Erthë made her way south from the forests of the Edge. With no particular goal in mind she drifted to whatever place on the horizon that caught her interest at the time. Trees bore peculiar signs of frostbite in her wake and there was no flower, grass or herb left undiscovered where she had passed. But for all that she enjoyed exploring, the things she discovered usually left her with more questions than answers. Frustration was almost as bad as boredom, and when both issues combined they left a restless and agitated girl with too much time on her hands.

It was early afternoon when she came upon the old ruins. Curious, with dark mist billowing from the godly feather in her mane and steps accentuated by the sound of softly clinking chains she circled around the forign structure. With all the awed amazement of youth Erthë gorged in the sheer age of it, enamored by the beauty of glittering glass and verdant vegetation. Scuffing the always present bow into a better position beneath a wing she tried a few tentative strides up the stone steps, wary of yet intrigued by the shimmering dome that glowed even in the faint light of the clouded day.

"I wonder who built it" she mumbled, addressing no one in particular. It was a habit developed over long time spent alone, where silence was a companion that sometimes had to be pushed a bit further away. "Where did they go, the builders? It would be interesting to talk to them... maybe they could tell me why they built it."

Mist trailed around her feet as she drifted about in the rotunda, milky white and somewhat out of place; it had followed her all the way from the Edge forest, clinging to her legs like a lonely child. Sometimes the filly thought she could make out shapes in the mist - small animals, birds and fluttering butterflies - but for the most part she paid it no heed.

There was a sound of shifting of leaves, silent hoof beats, accompanied by a strange but familair sound that made her think of home. Something metal, she realized. It was ridiculous how, suddenly, she struggled with putting sounds to a name, whereas, when she had had her sight, it had been so obvious, so easy. This accidental symphony was, however, rather soft: As if muted by an, again, familiar tissue. One she quickly realized was formed by the mist. It was probably dancing, twisting and twirling around her now as well… But there was something she regretted not being able to see, it was that. So, as she watched the blackness in her absent-mindfulness, she imagined them before her mind’s eye, nevertheless.

But quickly joining in was a voice. One she would also call faintly familiar. “Ërthe, is that you?” Her voice resounded in her ears, an empty echo that once had an obvious destination. Now, it simply ran and scattered and disappeared in the nothingness. Had she even spoken at all? There was no sign left that she had, no head turning with eyes ready to meet hers or ears pointing upwards to let her know her outlandish tunes had reached its mark.

So she stood there, between the Burch trees and under their canopy. Throwing shade on her red-striped frame. She shuffled forward in a slightly awkward manner, with her wings spread fully and reaching in front of her for any branches she might bump into. She was wrapped in a thin veil of mist, one she had automatically reached out for as she was only awfully aware of her vulnerability.

"You got to forgive this old soul... But I cannot see." She smiled, even though that would perhaps be kind of contradicting the fact that she had suddenly turned blind, but since she could not prove that this was in fact really the daughter of her deceased friend, she didn’t say any more. If she was not waiting for a sound to confirm that, she was waiting for a sound that would tell her where this other being was hiding.



"Talking."

Maren

BY THE PRECEPTS OF HER PURITY

Eventide is softly casting o'er the earth a magic spell,

And a love-song, everlasting, on the night wind seems to swell.

So absorbed in her observations was she that it took more time than usual for the sound of approaching footsteps to register. Once they finally did, the walker was already close and the proximity of them managed to startle the fae, even though the voice of the caller was soft and achingly familiar. Twitching where she stood, the girl threw a hasty glance over the shoulder to see who it was that called her by name, and as the slender body, hampered by old injury and slowed by pain, turned to face her a smile broke out upon Erthë's lips.

"Maren!" she replied, delight coloring voice as well as face as misty eyes fell upon the tigress. She would have flared her wings and rushed down the steps to greet the lady, would have thrown herself around the neck of the Diviner and embraced her - as a friend, a kindred soul, a person close to the heart. Alas, though she ached to do all this the filly remained slow. Her soulful dash became a hasty shuffle, the flight down marble steps turned into something more akin to controlled tumbling... And though alabaster wings extended to envelop her mother's friend in a frosty embrace, they froze in a shocked ruffle as the meaning of continued speech dawned on her.

"You're not old" Erthë said, with a feeble laugh that couldn't hide the worry she felt. "Yes, it's me... but how come you can't see? Did something happen to your eyes?"

Suddenly aware that she stood with her wings unfurled the girl tucked them back against her sides, the exuberant greeting turned awkward, stiff and restrained - reduced to the offer of a velvet kiss by cherry blossom lips and an exchange of wintry breath as she extended the nose in greeting. All the white she peered at the striped mare, searching for signs of injury that might explain this condition. Erthë had been blinded herself once, her left eye reduced to something rotten and painful in the socket that wept pus and other foul things. Magic had restored sight for her, but it remained pallid and mercurial in color none the less, dark taint staining the veins that surrounded the orb.

"Are you in pain? Is there anything I can...?"

But what could she possibly do? She possessed no magic, could not deal out arcane blessings like lumps of sugar or even properly prescribe a herbal cure. It made her feel helpless, a sensation that was not altogether new yet still very uncomfortable for someone so bent on knowing everything.

Somehow the sound of Maren's voice had made the other person jump, she realized, as she heard the sudden shifting of leaves and branches. Are you up to no good? she mused in thought, covering up the thought that she was but a fragile doll in the grip of blindness. But of course the thought that this other being had simply not seen her did not cross her mind. Then, however, there was a shout of her name, making her ears jump forward in surprise. As a smug smile grew on her face, she happily confirmed that this was indeed the filly she knew.

She heard the clicking of hooves against marble and she realized the rotunda she had been searching for to rest in had been just there. Nevertheless, she couldn’t help but notice that there was something wrong with the pace of it all; the happy and exciting rhythm she was so used to that should've accompanied Ërthe. Not today, it seemed — And as she suddenly remembered their last fight against the ill Tiger God, she concluded that perhaps that old rhythm filled with the nostalgia of a youth wouldn't accompany her any longer at all.

She did it to herself, Maren reminded her own throbbing bosom, fighting the pure pity that rose from her chest in multiplied force. I shouldn't care.

...But as the wings of a child enveloped her, she couldn't help to feel that way, still.

"You're not old" and the diviner chuckled as she lowered her head to gently push her tiger striped neck agains the girl’s pale one, let her own small white wings spread out their feathered fingers to embrace her warm, but fragile body. The layer of worry in the little one’s voice had not gone unnoticed, but Maren jolted with a snort in their grip,  amused. "Yeah, I know. Don't tell anybody," she joked. "My youth is my biggest secret." She grinned, it was true though: People did tend to give more trust to someone older (or pretending to be). “Did you know that wisdom doesn’t actually come with age, but rather with experience? Don't pretend you do know, because no one does except for me.” Her body shook as she laughed. And suddenly she wished that she could see, that she could... feel more compassion for this girl, be more kind, because she obviously deserved it. Her heart was a good one, candid and strong. The diviner could only hope it wasn't yet too tainted, too corrupted by her unlucky faith. That the girl, unlike herself, would still be able to care.

Ironically, even though it might only be that they were both wounded at a young age, she randomly realized that they could have a lot in common.  

The girl pulled away and Maren smiled again, unable to sense the awkwardness of the girl. "My lack of sight is nothing more than a good story," she said. "Exactly one year ago I got a quest from the God of the Earth to go and enhance my senses through experiencing. I did as he told me and as a result I am now blind, but only temporarily. I will be okay in a few days.” Maren had attempted before to try and find the girl’s eyes on sound, but since she couldn’t know whether she had got it right, she had now decided to just look straight ahead. Then Maren’s alabaster face turned grim, “I remember you being wounded from the fight,” she asked carefully. “How is it? Is it bad? I wish I could see you.” And she pressed her lips together in a line, suddenly bothered by her third eye’s imaginary picture of Ërthe without any wounds. I am only lying to myself to make me feel better. Who was she kidding: Being blind sucked.




"Talking."

Maren

BY THE PRECEPTS OF HER PURITY

Eventide is softly casting o'er the earth a magic spell,

And a love-song, everlasting, on the night wind seems to swell.

She joined in with the laughter, her joy over the reunion overtaking the worry like light staved off darkness. Her mind was flexible, easily able to keep up with the verbal somersaults and her amusement sprung from understanding, a grasping of the essentials.

"I won't tell" she promised. "It would only make them upset to realize, wouldn't it. You're wrong though, as I'm the only one who really knows."

Erthë grinned as she relished the warmth of the Diviner's embrace. Whether intended or not, heartfelt or dutiful did not matter to her - what mattered was what she felt. Would the Lord of Fire and Light truly employ someone to convey his messages who did not possess elements of both natures? Maren might think herself cold and callous, jaded from the experience called wisdom, but the child only saw the warm smile and the light of her eyes and cared about nothing else.

What she did care about was the wellbeing of this mare. Their connection was loose at best, thin threads of recognition and mutual interest guiding them back to the other's presence from time to time. Acquainted, allied over the memory of a precious person - it was more than enough, because Erthë's heart was indeed still red and bleeding, her passions burning fierce and bright and eagerly enveloped everyone in its light. Everyone she met was a friend, because for all she had seen her soul had not yet been tainted by treachery or evil. For all that she was intelligent and precocious the girl was also frighteningly naive at times, innocent in a way that let her care for even those she didn't really know.

As Maren explained about the pact with the Earth God, the pale little hybrid frowned and shook her head in consternation.

"Why would he make you go through that? It doesn't seem very nice, what's the point of making you stumble around in the dark? I thought he was the nicest of the gods, but now I don't know."  

Biting her lip she tried to understand this seemingly irrational demand, her relief at the condition not being permanent shoved to the side as curious annoyance took over.

"It's good that you didn't get hurt somehow though" she added.

As the tigress asked questions of her own however, the filly actually laughed.

"Which one?" she asked, grinning. "Out of four battles I escaped unharmed from only one. The Bear was gentle compared to the two last ones. That scaly monster beast whacked me with the tail so that this leg - uh, the left front one" she added quickly, realizing that Maren wouldn't be able to see her lift the pale hoof from the ground, "and that big cat lady managed to smash my other front leg so thoroughly that not even the healers can fix it. I've been touched by the magic of three gods by now, but nothing has been of any help."

Putting the feet back down and shifting gingerly, the gleaming filly shifted her wings in a slight shrug and grimaced, yet again forgetting the predicament her company was in.

"From what I heard miss Eva say I have to ask a god for healing directly... but I don't even know how to find them, and why would any of them bother with me? They must be really busy, don't you think?"

She shrugged again, matter-of-factly. Enough time had passed for Erthë to have become accustomed to her situation. While it in no way felt okay, she was at least able to talk about it without growing angry, sad or scared for what the future would look like.

Instead of lingering over her own ailments, she reached out to press a cold nose against the Diviner's striped shoulder, quiet sympathy guiding her as she tried to comfort the blinded mare.  

"You're wrong though, as I'm the only one who really knows." Maren huffed, followed by a low chuckle. "Now, don't get cocky," she shook her head, "You will make me regret looking forward to the day you are grown up."

"... I thought he was the nicest of the gods, but now I don't know."  

"Consequences, dear. He wishes for me to know the consequences of my actions when I cast my blinding veil of mist over others… Or at least that is what I like to think. One may wish to have something like power, but that one must give something in return." She paused, thinking before she continued. "For a God to be nice would make no sense. Of course you may decide this for yourself, but I believe none of them truly are. If they are, it would simply be a consequence as well instead of it being a mere solidified and established trait. They simply pursue the laws of nature and teach them to those who think and listen as They grant a quest."

As the girl mentioned that it was good that Maren hadn't yet hurt herself she only smiled, rather suspiciously, actually. She wasn't about to tell Erthë how many times she had bumped her head to a low-hanging branch, tripped or fallen. That the girl hadn’t noticed could only mean she still looked pretty damn good; an accomplishment in itself, she thought with slight, perhaps unjustified pride. "Right?" She thus smiled in agreement, smoothly going along with the filly’s conclusion.


The girl laughed at Maren’s concern, although the mare had no idea what the deal was with that. It was already such a rare occurrence that she spoke out her worries about… Well, someone; another person. Being laughed at afterwards didn’t quite match her expectations. Not that it hurt, it was rather just that she felt like she was being lied to. Into her face, but she couldn’t see. Her; and not see what the girl was talking about. And it bothered her, it bothered her immensely to simply not know while she could've. Still, she listened carefully to the girl’s report; what actually happened. As Erthë spoke Maren’s wings folded themselves around her alabaster cheeks, forming their own little cushion for her depressed, unknowing thoughts, suddenly regretting whatever she could have but didn’t.

Regret is overrated, she promised herself once again, even though it felt like she had emptied a box of nails inside her stomach — she, because there was no one else to blame. Why she would feel this way? She didn't know, for it wasn't affection. More... expectations she couldn't fulfill, didn't want to.  “I’m sorry,” she said. There, I tried;  empty words she had heard so many times herself when she was young. It hadn’t done much for her then, either. But, as she stared into the blackness, she realized that the only thing she missed in those words was the cure for the loneliness. And the real reason she felt so bad for the girl was merely because she saw so much of herself in her, pulling her back into nostalgia she had long swallowed; throwing up what she had thought was kept to be lost in the back of her mind. Once, she had a heart, knew how to care. But at another once, she sold it off; traded for knowledge and faith. So perhaps she was just apologizing to herself, for seeing her own past terror in Erthë.  

Something she didn't deserve.

So the diviner couldn't muster the courage to ask if she, perhaps, needed any help with this promised quest. Instead she asked. And she swallowed it along with all those other things when the girl reached out to her nose once more.  “So... you’re with a herd now?”  

Maren

BY THE PRECEPTS OF HER PURITY

Eventide is softly casting o'er the earth a magic spell,

And a love-song, everlasting, on the night wind seems to swell.

She poked her tongue out at the blinded mare, mostly because she was fairly sure she could get away with doing it. Then she laughed, the kind of bubbling carefree laughter children are so good at, because for some reason it made her happy to think that Maren would still be there to talk to when she was no longer small, scrawny and limping.

"I'll make sure you won't regret" she promised, with mirth and sincerity dancing merrily on lilting vocals.

But her smile faded into a frown as the mare took the actions of the Earth Lord in stride, even going so far as defending them. Erthë brooded over the reasoning for several long, quiet minutes, and when she finally replied it was with some reluctance... because she didn't like to disagree with the tigress.

"I suppose it makes sense to pay a price for wishes" she murmured, "but I don't see why they can't be nice. I mean... even if they are forces of nature as you say they still have soul, and conscience, and it can't hurt to try at least. Can it?"

She chewed her lip, unexpectedly worried about this train of thought. More specifically about the prospect of her favorite goddess not caring about those who worshiped her, of Her just being an avalanche or earthquake or solar eclipse without heart. If that was true, then what was the purpose of protecting a herdland? Why would a volcano eruption care about the mortals that resided on the slopes of the caldera - would it direct the pyroclastic flow towards their dwellings if it knew what grief and sorrow it would cause?

Or could it be that the Lady knew and simply didn't care? Erthë had heard of the atrocities She committed, of murders and treachery... It hadn't bothered her because she had been convinced that there was a reason for it, but what if there wasn't and the Moon had acted purely out of spite?

This was a horrible thought, and it consumed her so much that it took some time for her to register that Maren had asked her a question. Distracted, Erthë nodded but realized almost at once that the mare couldn't see her. Blinking in a dazed sort of way she looked up at her, though couldn't quite follow how the conversation had turned from gods to herds.

"Hm? Yes. Me and dad moved to the Edge, after mom died. It's nice there..."

But for the first time there was a note of hesitancy in her voice, and the filly soon averted her gaze and resumed the chewing of her lower lip, her thoughts filled with dark and daunting prospects.

She smiled, since it was the only thing Maren could ask for. It was a bittersweet agreement.

"The Gods are never wrong." But as she said it an echo rolled like an orchestra along the walls of her mind, a reflection of the shattering of glasses in the water; the drum. The Gods were never wrong about this world —But the Rift is not actually their world, it was a voice of shattering glass and she deja-vu'd to the time she had stood in the rotunda; watched the broken glass in the fading light of the day. And she had closed her eyes. She couldn't do that this time, not while she so clearly heard the glass shatter and her ears drum in the same beat as her aching heart. Light was not fading now when a fresh hatred flashed so violently before her eyes. In this forsaken world of shadows; now more then ever; I am not blind. And she never was, not when it came down to what actually mattered over time; the bigger picture. Blind? —don't make me laugh. She won't ever be as long as she is alive; for there was no one who saw the lifespan of this land fade into chaos so clearly.  

— Perhaps this is how its suppose to end.

And she wondered. She wondered and she wondered again and again. But it was only in the very back of her mind that she was aware of how, even though it sharpened all the others (senses), the darkness, the unknowing that had itself around  her in such a frightening tight embrace... it was poison to her state of mind. She did not want to see the darkness (the grip tightens). She wanted to see Erthë doing well, but she couldn't even say that. And she probably didn't wanted to hear that from her, either.

She scraped her throat, although there was still an unplanned roughness left when she attempted to speak her normally smooth tunes. "The World's Edge? You and your dad, that's good." It was a nicely hidden place, a good one for the filly to be kept save. Me and dad. More flashbacks of a ruined childhood flashed through her mind. The only difference was that her mother wasn't dead. Which, ironically, was exactly the problem.

She sighed. She wouldn't tell Erthë, but families sucked. "Could you perhaps lead me to the rotunda? I haven't sat down on soft, smooth marble for way too long," she suddenly realized how convenient it was to have someone close by. Even if only for a little bit. So Maren's awkward legs started to wander into the direction she had thought she had to go. "Just tell me if I'm getting warmer," she suggested as she held her wings in front of her to feel for branches.

"Must be cozy there," she murmured out of the blue, meaning living at the Edge with her dad. "Is Mauja doing alright, then?" The words had slipped out without her realizing it until it was already done. It surprised her. She hadn't thought or talked about him in ages. The only thing she knew is how he walked off after the battle with the Tiger-God and  wherever it was because the whole day had been strange — but it had not felt right.

Nothing had felt right that day.

Maren

BY THE PRECEPTS OF HER PURITY