i am a leaf on the wind

She probably wouldn’t have stopped here, if the form on the ground hadn’t been so familiar. Not because she disliked the meadow for any particular reason, but rather, because she’s never actually felt the urge to explore around here. In fact, Lyanna hasn’t actually stepped hoof in the Thistle Meadow, though she’s heard of it, flown over it enough. If she’s being really honest, most of her experience with Helovia has been from the sky.

She soars over the land, close enough to see what’s going on below her, far enough away to wallow in her own self-pity. As soon as her feet touch the ground, she’s back to pretending otherwise, back to pretending she’s perfectly fine. Trying not so much to fool others as herself. But here’s the rub in that plan. She’s not fine. How is she supposed to be fine? Her family was murdered, her life was ripped away from her, and she can’t even find one horse in this godforsaken place to call a friend.

No, Lyanna. Knock it off. This place is far from that terrible. Most of the horses seemed kind enough, Ichab was a cute little thing and something of a friend. Apollo. She didn’t know if she’d see him again, but there was always that hope. Good things, Lyanna. They exist.

When the black and white form of Alysanne comes into view, she’s actually glad. She needs a distraction, needs to get out of her own head. It’s a spiral in there, and she’s very good at ignoring it just so long as she keeps busy. So keep busy. Lyanna lands not all that far away, tucking her wings to her side and pausing for a moment as Alysanne moves into a trot, and then a canter.

Lyanna had just missed the half-spoken conversation between Aly and Hemlock, not that that would have explained anything if she’d heard it. She waits a moment longer before rather purposefully nickering a greeting, trying not to be a creepy little spy sitting off in the corner. Not that she was hiding in the middle of a meadow, but still. “Aly!” she calls, friendly as always and with a smile on her face. A smile in greeting, not a laugh at the mare’s antics. Is she trying to fly?

Lyanna takes a few more steps forward and then stops again, tilting her head just slightly. “I hope you don’t mind my asking, but are you trying to fly?” She would have assumed that Alysanne knew how. She assumed anyone with wings knew how to fly. It’s an amazing thing, soaring above everyone else, the wind in her hair and beneath her wings. But then again, Lyanna used to call that wind to her like a friend. Now, flying was the closet she could get to being herself.  

watch how i soar.

lyanna