Everywhere I look I catch a glimpse of you

As she suggested his name, he stepped a bit closer with an acceptance to the name. Nodding to him she offered him a small smile. Deep down she was thankful that she had gotten his name right. But in all honesty, she’d only really met a handful of creatures since entering Helovia’s borders. Mostly by her own fault. She tried to stay out of people’s way, out of their view. Once, she was outspoken, brave, always willing to start up a conversation. But ever since receiving her scars, it was as if she completely flipped her outlook. Which, she had, but she shouldn’t have done it to the extent that she had. She was beginning to realize that more with every day. And when Mauja spoke again, admitting he didn’t remember her name, that was the reasoning that reverberated in her mind. She wasn’t rememberable. And part of that actually began to hurt. But she placed a smile over the sadness that encroached her chest as she always had before and nodded slowly. “I’m Glasgow. I didn’t really talk much when I first came here. Ophelia did all the talking for me.” She offered him a shrug with a smile, an excuse for herself to not be upset with the whole ordeal.

Of course, she wasn’t upset with him in all honesty. She only had herself to blame. Being a recluse only got you so far when you lived in the shadows and had no such thing as glory associated with your name. But Mauja, Mauja was rememberable. Whether it be from the spots that lined his back and graced his entire being, whether it was the fact he was royalty when Glasgow had first met him. She would remember him, always. The fact he recognized her from their first meeting should have said something to the scarred mare. There was a sudden blockage within her mind that prevented her from being happy that he even remembered her. Instead, she turned her attention back to the event at hand. Creating things, getting better, making herself known so the awkwardness that her previous Queen had in forgetting her name wouldn’t be a common occurrence.

But then he asked a question that peaked her interested. “I’ve made a few glass blades for our sneaks.” She mused, turning her glassy gaze back over to the spotted man. “They were really rough and jagged, I wasn’t very happy about them. But they’ll do. So I’m trying to make smoother items, in the hopes that perhaps it won’t be as -” Similar to herself? Broken? Jagged around the edges? Something nobody really wanted? “Jagged and rough.” She finished, flicking an ear in uncertainty. “I’m supposed to make glass jars for the healers. We can’t have those being sharp and hazardous.” Flicking her tail against her blood stained feet, she offered him a small smile returning her gaze to the mists that had vanished into the wind once more.

"Talk."

I said it was love—

and I did it for life.

Glasgow