It was peaceful. It was quiet. The dragonmare cropped at the yellowing grasses with her lips and teeth, bowing her head to do so every other slow, ambling stride she took.

In the quiet and the peace, she was ever aware of her surroundings - sometimes, in Helovia, quiet peacefulness was not genuine, it was wrong, and Amaris had experienced her fair share of chaos to know this. Perhaps she was paranoid with her wariness - perhaps she was wise.

A butterfly rose up from the grass in front of her face, her golden gaze tracked it as it made its ambling way across the sky with a gentle grace Amaris herself could never hope to match. A small smile touched on her lips as she watched the little insect, wondering at what its life had been filled with so far, curious to know what might be held for it in the future. But, it was to remain a mystery to her, for butterflies could not talk, and this one was soon carried away on the wind to dance amongst the wilderness beyond her sights.

Amaris sighed, before concluding her meal and pressing onwards, forever onwards, forever moving. She couldn't settle, though she wanted to, she couldn't bring herself to stop long enough to grow too fond of a place, too comfortable - it was that paranoia, that uneasiness and wariness of peace and quiet. Peace is an ideal, quiet is a lie, she mused quietly wondering what the DragonHeart would say if she had raised such thoughts up for discussion. Amaris smiled a sad little smile at the thought, knowing such a conversation with her mother would never happen.

The curve of the Rotunda took her by surprise - though Amaris had lived within Helovia most of her life, she had been born here, she couldn't recall ever seeing a structure like it before. She stood in silent fascination, simply peering at it, for some time, before the quiet and the peace were broken, shattered.

She wasn't dissimilar to Amaris' own pelt in hue, pale spun gold and silver upon her coat, with ribbons of black (and petals of many different hue) streaming from her nape and dock - Amaris of course, was more caramel and gold, with dragon interrupting her equine looks. The dragonmare softened her gaze as she watched this little mare wander back and forth, and with a gentle call, made to draw attention towards herself, so that she might voice her soft, friendly query towards this strange, new belle. "Would you like some help?"

Amaris

The dragonmare was used to the stares, the looks, the surprise - often the fear - at her appearance. She knew that the flesh of dragon and equine only rarely melded together, and even more rarely succeeded in sustaining life - Amaris was a diacritic individual, an uncommon, rare blend of genes that had resulted in the splash of golden scales across a luminescent, silken champagne hide. She was not foolish enough by now, to recognise even herself as a bit unusual, out of the ordinary, peculiar - but she was weary of the same reactions to her presence.

They would look, they would stare. They would see the predator she definitely was - fortunately, she needn't feast upon meat very often, and so it was particularly uncommon for her to be caught out in that sort of light. They would see her scales, and some would conclude that she was queenly - usually those bonded to dragons accepted her more readily - revered her almost. But those without such backgrounds, those who saw her simply as she was - an equine with the wings, scales and appetite of a dragon - had a very limited range of reactions: stay, and ask questions, or run, and avoid her.

Amaris wasn't the only unique thing in the realm, however. As this other mare stopped to stare at her, golden pools roamed over her physique, looking at the way magic thrived throughout her - flowers grew so naturally down her mane and tail, their trail a fragrant celebration of her existence behind her. Though her expression was friendly to begin with, as the mare accepted her offer of help, it softened further with pleasure, excitement. Perhaps it was a sad fact that Amaris should feel such joy at being accepted by any stranger she happened by, but such was the truth of all the interactions of her past - not all had such positive outcomes.

"I am Amaris," she proffered when Agondice gave her own name, stepping forward to the willow tree curiously. Most everyhorse knew of the properties of the willow bark - like most poisons, it was only deadly at the right dose, otherwise it could be therapeutic. Amaris was taken on a journey through her memories as she recalled Smoke, forever gathering herbs, forever stockpiling, always ready to treat any ailment that came her way with a remedy of magic or plants (or both). They were nice, happy memories, and it only warmed Amaris further to think of them as she went about her own way of gathering the bark.

"Your flowers are beautiful," she said idly, as she looked at the great broad trunk, walking to the other side of it to tend to an area Agondice was yet to reach. "Do they grow through all seasons?" she asked with genuine curiosity, even as turned her body to allow the scythe of her tail to swing more freely and strike high at the tree, and carve sheets of bark off it. It was so simple, so natural for her, she didn't even consider how she might appear to others - how naturally deadly, predatory, her actions were.

Amaris

The story of the flowers intrigued the mare, but then, curious things were bound to happen in Helovia, so she supposed she should not have been surprised. Still, it was a simple beauty, and beneficial to one's health, apparently. It was easy for Amaris to see it, to appreciate it, and completely ignore her own uniqueness, to write her own unusual attributes off as ugly and freakish. Though, her scythe was proving useful, today.

Amaris smiled, pausing her motions after the first sheet of bark fell to the ground, voicing her thoughts as they came to her regarding Agondice's flowery tresses. "I wonder if they change colour as the seasons do? They are truly something else." As her tail lifted to begin work on a different section of the great timber, Agondice spoke further - commenting on the uniqueness of her own hide, her scales, her blood. It was a question that others had posed in different ways, one that she had grown used to - even grown to enjoy, when in the past it had caused her pain and doubt.

Amaris was still in the habit of calling herself ugly, but at least she knew she was capable. At least she knew what flowed through her veins was nothing to be ashamed of, just as the scales upon her hide, and the scythe upon the elongated length of her tail. As the other mare drew attention to it, she stopped her motion again, looking at what she had accomplished in such a short expanse of time, smiling absently.

"I was born this way," she said, her voice soft but clear, curious at the mare's choice of words - to think of these differences as a gift, was a wondrous idea. Though gifts were usually treasured and welcomed, Amaris never did get a choice but to accept it by the blood that defined her. She supposed she had grown to accept it - she hardly had another choice when it was her entire existence. "My father was like me, and my sister. We are the only ones, that I know of, to share equine and dragon's blood." And I don't even know where they are, she wanted to say, but such a thing was far too heavy for such an introductory conversation.

"Do you like it in the Falls?" she asked instead, rolling her shoulders as she swing her tail towards the tree again.

Amaris