i am a leaf on the wind

It’s a bitter thing, the game of thrones. She knows that all too well know, but once, she’d had no idea. Once, she’d believed that her family was safe. They were kind and just (except, of course, that other species could never rule, but that was the issue with hereditary succession). Other species sat on the council though, held plenty of power in their own right. But it’s never enough, is it? No, it’s never enough.
 
Everyone wants the damn crown on their head. Lyanna never did, which was fine, given that she was born the middle child anyway. Corbin was far more a King in the making than Lyanna would have been Queen. Corbin was everything, at least to her. And then they went and slit his throat. Kill the heir, wait for the monarchs to come investigate, and then turn on them too. She’s lucky to be alive, so too often, the tri-colored mare forgets that.
 
It’s getting easier though, living in a place that will never truly be home. Maybe it will be, one day. Maybe this place will sneak up on her and make itself home. She still doubts it, but then again, she never expected to be here in the first place. She spends more time in the Edge now, trying to learn about herbs and their uses, hoping to put herself to use if she’s to stay here. And she’s to stay here, unless she craves death. Returning to Morham is certain death.
 
Today though, she’s back in the Threshold, thinking it’s been too long since her last visit. Finding time was getting harder, actually, though she still wanted to come. In the same way she’d been offered a second chance here, she wants to offer that to others. They don’t all take it, but that doesn’t matter as much. It’s simply knowing the option exists that can help someone move on. It helped her.
 
The word healer catches her attention now. Not that she can heal, but the instinct to help kicks in anyway, and she weaves through the trees until she finds the source. A pale stallion looks down at another, crumpled on the ground, his words sounding almost like a joke despite the situation. But then again, the stallion that’s half dead on the ground retorts back with a clear “Fuck off”, as if he’s not literally dying on the floor of the Threshold.
 
She’s still back in the trees a bit, but continues to make her way forward as more insults fly and the stallion manages to get back to his feet. She knows, at least a little bit, how to feels to not care about this place. She didn’t even know the name of this place when she stumbled on it, and after she figured out that the damn invisible barrier to the Threshold took her power…yea, well. Let’s just say she was none too please. Though she’d been a whole lot nicer about it to her greeters.
 
“He is right,” she says softly, finally out of the trees and close enough to the group to be fully seen. Being black has some advantages, though if one’s looking, the white and teal stands out pretty obviously when she’s in the shadows. She moves around to take a look at the gash, only knowing a little bit about healing, but more than enough to know this is one hell of gash. “I’m just going to guess, but I think if you really wanted to be dead, you’d be dead from that by now. Hang on.”
 
She disappears back into the trees, moving a little quicker now, until she finds the willow tree that’s not too far away. Snatching at one of the branches in her teeth, she tugs until the branch snaps away from the tree. She returns to the group, willow branch still in her teeth (like a dog playing fetch, she thinks, almost laughing at herself). It’s far from the best, but it’s about all she can do in the Threshold and without Alysanne’s help.
 
She drops the branch near the stallion with the gash in his side. “I’m Lyanna,” she offers, figuring a name might be helpful or at least poliet right about now. “If you want, chew the leaves, or the bark honestly. It’ll help with the pain, a little bit anyway. Though I can take you to a real healer, if you don’t want to die.” 

watch how i soar.

lyanna

i am a leaf on the wind

Ashamin is quickly becoming a familiar face in the Threshold, and Lyanna can’t say she’s entirely surprised when he joins their group. He seems like he’s trying to support her attempts to be nice, and though she could talk for herself, she doesn’t let his comment bother her. She’s pretty sure he means well, so that’s enough. He moves on as well, talking to her, apparently impressed with her very limited knowledge of healing and, more to the point, her willingness to help. Ah yes, she did have that, though it was somewhat selfish. It kept her busy, which kept her thoughts off her family. It was a whole lot easier just to be preoccupied.

“I don’t know much yet. Still learning,” she says, with a smile on her face. Hoenstly, she’s a little bit flattered to have just been (sort of) offered a home. It seems so strange to her that a near stranger might be interested in what she can offer. It probably shouldn’t seem odd – she did get offered two homes when she stood in the Threshold the first time (and she was offering a stranger a place to rest as well). But somehow, it does. Maybe because she’s been here long enough to feel somewhat settled, to actually be known for having a home. And here’s someone suggesting an alternative (again, sort of). Maybe it’s just being remembered and noticed at all that she still finds strange. She never expected to be anything but in the way in Helovia.

Though it seems she’s not always in the way. Sometimes, certainly. But less so than normal. It was a start, anyway.

She pulls her wandering thoughts back to the conversation at hand, listening as Ashamin continues to talk, showing his own scar in some manly show of solidarity or something. Lyanna, though she was trained to fight, has no scars worth talking about. A couple small ones here and there, certainly, but she was a Princess of course. Her job, once, had been to mate for alliances. Couldn’t very well have her covered in scars. So she simply listens, teal eyes flickering around the group, but paying particular attention to the wounded stallion, trying to make sure he doesn’t keel over and die while they all chit chat.

He hasn’t, she noticed, made any move toward the branch. Not that she’s surprised, given his general attitude toward everything. A very fuck all, might as well die kind of attitude. Which she doesn’t get. What’s the point in being that miserable? Her family was murdered and she fled her only home in exile. Returning meant her death. And yet here she is, helping some miserable ass who, as he admits, doesn’t actually deserve it.

“Kindness isn’t always given to those who deserve it. It’s simply given by those strong enough to offer it. You can accept it or not, as you will, but it’s your loss not to.” Her voice is still soft, though perhaps with a hint of an edge to it. Corbin had tempered her temper over the few years she’d have with her brother (again, Princesses cannot get mad, and old habits die hard). “The World’s Edge is not terribly far, but neither is it next door. I don’t know where Ashamin’s healers are. But I can offer you skilled healers, and you won’t even be expected to stay, if you decide the Edge just isn't to your liking.”

Maybe kindness is wasted on those that don’t deserve it. Maybe it should be reserved, given in small little doses. But she can’t really imagine living like that. She knows no other way to be but kind, in the face of whatever she might come across. Even the nameless stallion with the sharp tongue and the gash in his side.

watch how i soar.

lyanna