If only I could fly...

The thought was one that had often crossed my mind, though not necessarily in the most literal sense. Lately, though, having been around a variety of Pegasi, I was beginning to wonder what it would be like to soar through the clouds, completely and utterly free of the worldly obligations that tend to bog me down. I found myself watching their graceful flights with an increasing sense of envy. Recognizing this in myself, I fled my herd for a time, ashamed. I am not the jealous type, nor the type to spend my days longing for that which I would never possess. In reality, it wasn't the ability to glide along the currents of the earth that I desired, but the freedom that I was sure would accompany such a power. It was the escape from the ground below, the liberating loneliness that seemed present in the very bursts of wind that took the fliers away.

As I wandered the realm searching for - well, I'm not sure what I was searching for - but in any case, as I wandered my way into the deep forests of the southeast, my cranium began to ache in an uncomfortably familiar way. In that moment I became thankful for my jealousy, as it had run me far from my herd and my new home. The headache was usually a predecessor to a blackout, and as I had yet to mention my ailment to any of those back home, I was grateful to have gone away. With any luck, I would reawaken after with nothing to be held accountable for. I only hoped that I would not stumble across another in the dense woodland.

As though in ironic answer to my unspoken plea, through the trees horseflesh became visible. How I managed to see the dark-colored stallion in the poor lighting of the Frostfall forest was unknown to me until I drew nearer; only then could I take note of the true color of his pelt. A nice bay color, with wings folded along his massive back. This, however, would be a feature for me to observe another time. He towered over my scant 15.2 hands - not a small equine, but certainly tiny enough compared to the draft - and this brought to mind whispered stories of angry steeds and sinful deeds, used to scare the young faes into wariness upon meeting a stranger. I was no different, and despite the growing pain behind my plain chocolate eyes, I had tensed in the case I needed to escape.

I would place bets that I'd be able to outrun the monstrous stag in this forest, as the undergrowth grew into thick hedges and the trees wound together in tight spirals. It wasn't the kind of place that he would be able to easily navigate. But then there was the problem of my imminent blackout. Should I stay, or should I run? It was useless to stand there and debate with myself, in any case. He would already have seen me, and so it would be impolite to not offer even the slightest of greetings. As such, I raised my eyes to meet his - so far above mine! - and opened my maw to speak. "Hello, sir. I hope I haven't disturbed your evening with my wanderings." My voice was soft and kind - it rarely shifted from these tones, as that is the kind of fae I am. It is easily readable in my mannerisms and actions. Even Midas, the gentle knight from the Throat who had offered me a home, had clearly seen my caring tendencies. The thought brought a smile to my lips, furthering my sweet persona. I could just hope that this stallion was of a similar nature.

[W/C | 633]

I had yet to make many friends in this new land; in fact, I had yet to make many friends at all. Throughout my travels, I have met many, but known few. It was not their fault, but mine, for I did not trust them to keep me once my condition was made known. Perhaps it would be easier if I had the slightest clue just what that condition was, but, alas, I haven't. As such, I tended to practice avoidance in an attempt to safeguard both their and my well-being. Who knows what I do when my vision goes dark and my body goes numb? I never remember my actions, and no one ever tells me what it is that I do. Perhaps I am doomed to this confusion, to forever be apart from a herd. I hope not, for in the short time I have been in Helovia, I have grown fond of my newfound family.

I tried to push the pounding in my cranium to the back of my mind. I rather hoped that the feeling would pass, though I knew that this hope was in vain. This stallion - Thor, his name was - seemed very kind. In fact, he portrayed just the persona that I had been hoping for. I supposed it could just be a clever ruse to gain my trust, but I felt as though it was not. Perhaps my gut feeling was not always right, but I did continue to trust it all the same. Despite my aching head, I smiled at him, knowing that it touched my eyes as all true smiles do. He had called me beautiful, and although I did not believe that someone as plain as I could truly be a beauty, I appreciated his words all the same.

"My name is Tamira," I informed him, my voice soft and sweet. "I am a member of the herd of Dragon's Throat, but I am too newly come to have acquired a title as yet. I am hoping to pursue healing." His next words gave me pause; I had come to the forest to get away from others, hoping to avoid chaos from my impending fit. Truthfully, I should have excused myself from even this gentle steed's presence, but I found myself drawn to stay. We had just met, but I already found myself comforted by the proximity of such a stallion. He seemed very nice, and very bright, much like my own personality. Would the truth scare him off? I supposed I should warn him, if I were not going to be continuing on my way.

"It is a long story," I began hesitantly, not sure where to begin. The clock was ticking, and I wanted him to know that I may not be aware of my actions in mere moments. "I will be happy to explain in detail some other time, but for now I hope it will suffice to know that I came to the forest to be alone." Realizing how that must sound, she hurriedly added, "Although I am very glad to have come across such a kind stallion as yourself." Another smile lit my maw, and I hoped that he would not take offense. "The reason for this is that I... well, on occasion I have what I can only describe as blackouts. I am unaware of my actions during them, but it usually ends badly. I removed myself from my herd, hoping that it would pass with no harm done..." I trailed off, suddenly unsure. My body was tense, confusion evident in my stance and orbs. Would he run now? What an odd way to introduce oneself to a stranger!

[W/C | 617]

Embarrassment coursed through my veins, and I fought the urge to run, ashamed, from the stallion. Of course, this was precisely why I refused to tell others of my illness - it was unthinkable. The could not empathize, and they would not sympathize. Too often I had seen perfectly good meetings take a downhill turn for just this reason - I could feel a fit coming on and had to warn them. Most of them came up with an excuse to leave before I went under; those who didn't were gone by the time I awoke. I never saw any of them again, at any rate. And I truly liked Thor. He seemed to have a kind, gentle disposition, and I felt myself drawn to him. I ached to glance up into his orbs, to be reassured by the soul I would see behind them, but I couldn't. I stared at the ground.

I swallowed a lump in my throat. "I haven't found a way to control it, and believe me, I've tried." My voice was small, resigned. He questioned the actions of friends and family, and I shut my eyes tightly. My inability to ward off the memories only made my distress worse, and I gave in to the past, images flashing over my closed lids. "I wouldn't know how my herd would react, as I have not told them of my affliction as of yet. But I fear that they would cast me out." As my family once did. I longed to say it, to speak the words, to complete my story, but the words failed me, and I was left with nothing but a ragged breath. It would be soon, now, and I doubted I would get to hear the steed's response. "I'm very sorry..." I whispered, as my vision began to fade.

As the change begins, the fae's eyes turn dull, glassy, as though they are unable to focus. The tension that rolled off her in waves reaches its peak, then breaks, her muscles relaxing in a sudden and unexpected way. A new look comes into her eyes, almost as though a new being is unfolding from its complex box, stored deep in the recesses of the mind. A slow smile curls across the lips, almost feline in nature. It's a coy look, one that speaks of deadly humor and biting wit.

My, my, how long has it been since I have been released from my prison? It feels like ages since I have been allowed outside the walls of my mind. It is most unpleasant to be trapped behind a wall of glass, able to look out, to hear the goings on of my weaker self, and be rendered unable to do anything. And this stallion was simply delicious to look at. I'd been clamoring to get out, of course, and that had caused the weakling's headache, but when she had come across this fine specimen, I was practically dying to emerge. Just the right amount of push and, well, here I was!

The flirtatious smile that plays across my maw is suddenly accompanied my batting lashes. He is sure to notice the difference, but how can he resist my charm? And how wonderfully funny would it be if I could have him completely smitten with me? Or, better yet, to coax him into siring a foal. How confused would the weakling be then? I was practically brimming with mirth, pleased both with the circumstances and my freedom. I know that I would only be allowed to remain in control for a short time - my weaker half was annoyingly good at control - and decided I'd best get moving. "Do you know," I simpered, a sweet tone flowing into my tones, "that you are quite the handsome fellow?" What was the point in playing hard to get? There was so much more fun to be had by just taking what you wanted. If only the weakling could see that.

[W/C | 665]

It wasn't even that I particularly cared for the stallion, as it were. I simply enjoy wreaking havoc, and as far as I could tell, this would be the ultimate prank. It wasn't the steed's fault, or anything to do with him. The hatred that fueled my burning desires was directed inward, at the weakling with whom I am unfortunate enough to share a body with. It would be a lovely joke of the gods, to trap two such different faes in the same form, forever battling for control. I'm sure they laugh about it on a regular basis. So perhaps my anger wasn't all at my weaker half, but, c'est la vie - I could do nothing about the gods. But her I could torment to my heart's content. I must admit, it is particularly satisfying that she hasn't a clue that I exist.

A soft chuckle bubbled from my lips. "Flattery, my dear, is a mare's greatest weapon," I informed him, that seductive smile growing wider. I stalked closer, venturing to brush against his body with my own, flicking my tail in his general direction. I knew how to be alluring. And if that particular plan failed, I would, in the very least, run him off, and the weakling would return to no one. Again. Facing away from him, he would not see the malicious glint in my eyes at the thought of her pain. I was sure to erase the feeling as I twined myself back around to his front. "I do hope that my skills in that area are as strong as ever," I added, an afterthought. What better way to lure him in than to invite him to compliment me in return?

I knew that I was having some effect on him. This encounter was almost certainly not what he had been expecting, but it would do for him, no doubt. Stallions are all the same - they will use you and abuse you, but where are they at the end of the day? Gone. Luckily I am not blinded by the same pretty fantasies as the weakling, and I knew how to use their strength against them. Besides, I did not need a stallion for my plans. I could cause confusion well enough on my own. The stag would simply make it fun, and much more interesting to observe. At least once I was returned to my prison, I would have plenty of entertainment.

[W/C | 410]
[OOC | Haha, Tamira's evil side wasn't quite what I was going for originally either. ^^' These characters seriously write themselves...]

I must admit, I was surprised at his candor. From my silent prison I had watched as this kind and gentle stallion had won the weakling's affection and, apparently, trust, as she had tried to warn him of my appearance. I had not expected to be confronted with such a willing companion, but it certainly made things easier. In a way, it was disappointing - I always enjoy a challenge, after all - but at the same time, I was pleased. I knew that the clock was ticking, my time in the spotlight winding down. And so my mind sped on, despite the shiver that ran down my spine at his touch, despite the electricity coursing through my veins. It was the only way to keep control this constant concentration, and I was hard-put to manage it.

We danced around each other, each trying to claim the upper hand. The gentle touches were like a drug, and I worked hard to keep my hold on the power. "Well, darling," I said in response to his rather straightforward comments, "I am not one to play games." I knew that my eyes, twinkling with merry mischief, would betray my statement as false; but I also knew that the emotion there would hide the undercurrent of cruelty that runs through my veins. For a moment I was grateful for the effect that this fine steed was having on me. It was a heady feeling, and I was almost giddy. But I'd have to work harder to accomplish my goal.

His words tickled my ear, and I flicked it to rid myself of the feeling; shaking my head, I sent my silken mane flying. A flirtatious smile graced my maw as I continued our lazy waltz, circling around to brush against his body again. It was a perplexing question that he posed: I did not have a name separate from the weakling. I had never been given a choice in the matter, and no one that she has come across as yet has understood that we share the body. They assume she becomes possessed. None had thought to ask my name. "If you would like to call me something other than Tamira, do let me know what kind of name you come up with," I told him sweetly, relaying the question back to him. If he chose a name for me, then perhaps that would be the one I would keep.

[W/C | 407]

My senses were suddenly torn. I could feel the pressure building behind my eyes, that which always accompanies my return to my solitary confinement. The weakling was not so weak this time, hammering at the wall that I had thrown up in my mind, clamoring to regain control. Desperately, I clung to my power, my desire for the stallion a heady weapon against my weaker-minded half, something so foreign to her that she could not possibly break through it. The feeling subsided, and I smiled lustily. I had won, for the time being. She would be back, this I knew; but I would have a bit longer to toy with the steed, who was unknowingly furthering my plans. The weakling would be confused by this new side of the stallion, the side that I now longed for.

His words were cold, but the heat between us grew, and I knew that I was very close to getting my way. He had iron control, I would give him that, and I was impressed. But he had presented me with a challenge, and should it be today or next year, I would win. His arousal matched my own, and our feelings played off each other with each step, each breath, each teasing little touch. Ah, why could I not own this body? If I did, if it were solely I who reigned supreme, the stag would be mine! As it were, he would remain interested enough - he made that> perfectly clear - and so that would have to be enough. Tick, tock, the clock continued, growing ever louder in my mind.

"You are indeed blessed," I purred, the rough nip sending shivers down my spine. A smirk plastered itself on my face - the weakling would be bemused for days after this - and continued our circling dance. That touch had further awakened my senses, and I again approached, again aiming to brush my body against his, again aiming to set our senses on fire. If it was even possible to make the tension worse, I would find a way. But the pressure in my cranium had returned, and I understood that I would not get my way this time. Next time, love, next time, I will win. Myriad. The name rang through my body and I shivered again, a response to what I was sure he would call me forevermore. How fitting for the weakling and I, a myriad of personalities in the same body.

"Unworthy, I am not, my dear," I informed him sweetly, "and you know that as well as I. I would be just perfect for you, darling, if only I could stay..." My orbs met his in a fiery challenge, desire pooling there in the most obvious way. I could feel it fade from my mind before it began to fade from my body, and I knew that I had only a moment to speak again before I was imprisoned once more. "Next time, dearest, you shall be mine." There was something almost feral in the words, and I knew that he would remember it, and me, for many days. And so my world faded once more.

The familiar feeling rushed through the fae. First, she regained her sense of touch. She seemed aware of the new proximity of the stallion, though her confusion did not prompt her to move away. Next came her sense of hearing: yes, there he was, or at least, she presumed it was him. With her sense of smell, she became sure of it, though she was perplexed by their mixed lust. Her sight returned at last, and she was pleasantly surprised to see that he had remained.

I blinked groggily, as though waking from a long sleep. Thor had remained, and for that I was grateful, though there was something about him that had not been there before. What had I done? Would he flee now, angered or afraid of whatever I had become? I did not see him as one to be afraid, and I feared that should be become angry, I would not be in the unharmed state that I appeared to be in. So what was it, then, that I saw in his eyes? What was this tension in his body and, I realized, in mine? What in the world had transpired here? "You're still here," I stated stupidly, still staring at him. I couldn't even amend the stupidity of the statement, so entranced was I by the stallion. What have I done?

[W/C | 756]

I was exhausted; such was the price of my affliction. I glanced skyward briefly, measuring time in degrees of the sun's path across the sky. Surprise registered briefly in my sluggish mind. I had not been unconscious for as long as I'd feared, and not for nearly as long as was normal for my blackouts. But I was unable to analyze this strange discovery for long, as my thoughts slid ever-so-slowly back to the rather confused-looking stallion before me. I was still unsure of what to say, how to act... what had transpired in the time that was unavailable to my memory? What had I said? How had I acted? What should I say now?

His words were a comfort, though his tone was not; he looked about as lost as I felt. I felt as though I were coming down from some strange high, returning ever so slowly to senses that dulled as the flower dulls in the autumn sun. It was always an unpleasant sensation, and one that I usually experienced alone. I was unused to sharing this time with another. Manners dictated that I should instigate some manner of conversation; instinct decreed that I remain silent. At this moment, I found myself utterly at his mercy, completely in his control. It was not an entirely unwelcome feeling, to share my burden with another.

And then unique situation provided me with opportunity. He had seen me, been with me, while I was elsewhere, and he would be able to tell me what was so horrible that my own family had sent me away. At this moment, he held the key to the deepest, darkest part of my soul; he was the keeper of my best-kept secret, even more so than I. It was this that tied the two of us together in an irrevocable and unexpected way. I had to know, but I didn't know how to ask. "What did I... how did I... what happened?" My vocals sounded dazed, unfocused, and I found myself taking a step closer to him, as though my body longed to lean against him for support. I stopped myself. I didn't know him that well - did I?

[W/C | 366]

I swallowed hard. His words took several moments to sink into my brain, and it was as if I were hearing echoes of his former self. Was it me - or was something different in him? The very air between us felt charged, and I was unsure what to make of it, particularly when he stepped closer to allow me to lean on him. A quick shock of electricity raced over my skin, and I was almost sure that his skin had felt a matching shiver. His proximity was thrilling and soothing in equal measure, and after a moment, I relaxed enough to lean into him without shame.

Finally, my mind formed words to respond to his comments. "Oh, convulsions," was my scintillating reply, spoken in tones so monotonous that I wanted to pound my skull against a rock just listening to myself. One would think that with the discovery of my own secret, I would be more intrigued; instead I simply stood rather listlessly, filing the information away for later review. I would not be going home this night, I was fairly sure. I was drained, more so than usual, and for me to feel this awful in the aftermath of such a short blackout, I was surprised. Another tidbit for examination at a different time.

"I assume it can be a bit frightening to others with no experience in the matter. I guess those before me had little patience of physical disturbances." Well, what was I to say to that? That I presumed that he had somehow managed to control it? That others always looked as though they had seen a ghost after a blackout? 'Mischief-maker,' they had called me, and were it truly convulsions that had taken me, I felt sure that they would have to be some very violent convulsions. Another shiver took my body at his muzzle at my ear, and I leaned into him more, though I wouldn't have thought it possible. "Perhaps," I suggested quietly, "you have simply managed to quell them?"

[W/C | 340]

I was recovering now, though if I were drawing strength from myself or from my new friend, I was unsure. I chanced a glance upward (for he was much taller than I) and allowed a slight smile to grace my features. In it, I was sure, my relief and thankfulness was embodied, shining out like so many stars. Though the Frostfall eve was chilly, the wind drifting through the trees frigid, Thor's massive body was warm, and I huddled in his shadow, allowing him to block what little wind wound its way through the tree trunks here. Absentmindedly, I reached up to rub my muzzle along his cheek, another motion of thanks and affection all mixed into one. It was a motion that I didn't think twice about; but still, I could not quell the electricity that sparked at the touch.

As my cranium lowered once more, I heard his words: "I think I can help." I leaned away almost without meaning to, recoiling from the words in surprise. That was all it was at first, as I stood apart from him, staring at him with wide chocolate orbs, a sharp intake of breath that I was unaware of holding, feeling the chill caress my pelt as I lost contact with him. And then the glee began to creep in. The breath that I had inhaled so suddenly left me with a soft whoosh, and I felt the bubble of excitement begin to work its way up from my chest, as though it were a giggle that I was fighting to hold in. It rose higher in my throat, found its way into my mouth, fighting against my teeth, forming into words. "You think you can help." The words were flat in comparison to the warring emotions within me, and particularly stupid given the circumstances.

But I was not one to lose decorum simply because of a little - a lot - of overwhelming emotion. I felt a grin on my lips, a warmth flooding my veins. And my next words were much happier, laced with happiness and hope and all the things that I had thus far denied myself. Perhaps I have less control than I thought. "No one has ever - how can you - what do you - how are you going to help?" It was a stammering mess of words, but none more important had ever been voiced. It was, perhaps, in that moment, that I realized just how closely linked to this stallion I felt.

He was the first to stay with me, the first to care for me, and despite earlier reservations I had no doubts about him. In fact, I quite wanted him to stay with me. It was another surprising emotion in the cacophony of feelings that already welled deep inside me, and I danced toward him again, remarkably light on my feet. I felt his body against mine again, and I lipped his mane with tenderness. I had regained my senses by then, and I spoke again, this time more coherently. "I'm not sure how you plan to help me, but I believe I can honestly say that I will do anything you say if you think it will help." It was a lost of trust to place on the steed, but I trusted him. For the first time, I truly trusted someone.

[W/C | 562]

Oh, I had considered love, mostly in a half-sleeping daze. Who would want me, after all? At least, that's what I asked myself. The dreams were never entertained for long, as I hadn't the patience for imagining that which was out of my reach - but I found myself returning to those oft-forgotten moments in which I allowed myself to lapse into fantasy. Some of them had featured me, unbroken, wholly myself, never falling into disarray, never forgetting chunks of my day. These were preferable, given the strength with which I viewed my affliction. But occasionally, I would accept myself, and in doing so, allow myself to dream up a different scenario. In it, I was accepted for who I am, not for who I longed so desperately to be. It was with this in mind that I regarded the situation unfolding before me.

I was surprised at the proximity of Thor again when he followed my sudden retreat to nudge me with a certain tenderness - or was I imagining it? - that again sent that tingling rush of warmth. I cast my gaze down, suddenly shy, unsure how to react to the feelings growing within me. Perhaps I was simply in a dream, and I would wake up, alone in the Throat again, perhaps go seek out Midas and chat or, better yet, finally make my introduction to our healer, Onni, who was to be my mentor. Despite these wild, scattered thoughts, I felt sure that this was not in my imagination, that I had not dreamed this. I felt as awake as I had ever been, and I was exhilarated.

He was speaking, and I listened, enraptured, my orbs still failing to meet his, though I did return his motion of affection by tucking my body beside his once more. "Who you are is nothing to be ashamed of -" I couldn't help a snort of amused disbelief, though I desperately wanted to believe him. "- and I want you to see just how..." Just how what? I froze, unsure and afraid that he would say I was crazy, or beyond help, or even worse, simply not continue at all. And so it was with a sigh of relief that I greeted his next words. "-amazing... you are." I couldn't help the slow smile that spread over my features. I only halfway believed him, but that was enough to leave me brimming over with a strange mix of happiness and affection and adoration that I had never felt before.

The admission to a quest to become a healer was a secondary thrill; I was still stuck on the first, and I couldn't fully appreciate the revelation. I was silent, mind reeling, but only for a moment. How cruel would it be to leave him hanging in such a way, when he had been so kind to me? But it would take strength to respond in kind, a strength that I wasn't sure I had in me. I hadn't ever felt anything like this, I hadn't had to put my thoughts into words in such a way. But I tried. "You would be the first to say as much about me," I admitted softly, forcing my orbs upwards, leaning my body slightly to better look at his face. "But if you truly mean the words that you say, well, I'd have to admit... you are of a different kind than most of the others I have met. A better kind," I added swiftly, feeling as though my words were inadequate. "I am blessed to have run across you this night."

[W/C | 602]