ask no questions

She does not worry about the afterlife, about entry into some place held for unicorns alone or any such bullshit. The afterlife is not like that. Not in her experience. She has seen the ferryman, has watched him shuttle all manner of creatures across the river. All they care for is gold, a thing she has never had in death. A thing she does not yet need. A coin, a necklace, anything worth a pretty penny would do for fare. On the other side, she has seen the shuttled into line, has seen them all wait for their judgment. Past that, she cannot glimpse, but the appendages on their head or back or between their legs never mattered. Death took all without prejudice.

She wonders who started such a silly prejudice so long ago. Perhaps simply because their God had no wings. Sparky boy had a single, lightning-bolt horn and nothing more. At least, that’s what it looks like. But there are wings hidden there, not that she knows this. Though she wishes she did, wishes she could point out the hypocrisy of that prejudice. To serve a God that has the very thing you despise. If anything, she is more, better, closer to the Gods than anyone with just a single horn. Not that she thinks that way. She has one God, in the end, for he is the only one that matters.

One day, they would meet her God, and one day, they would understand.

For now, she can only show them she is worth trusting. That wings on her back do not make her less, but more. They are an advantage to be leveraged, nothing more. Afraid is the wrong word. She is not afraid to fly. But she is, on some level, respectful. They do not fly here, and so she does not fly here. When she can, when she’s out on her own in Helovia, she takes to the sky instantly. But not here. She will respect their customs, earn her place regardless of the wings on her back. Besides, if she is to be warrior, she better be able to run some damn slopes.

Raven caws when Rikyn mentions distake for bubbling water. He’s a smart little bugger, somewhat capable of understand speech, though Weaver’s pretty sure he’s still too young for that. Original Raven could actually utter a few words, but New Raven is a baby yet. She’s pretty sure he gets most of the gist from their bond, and just wants to make it perfectly clear he agrees. “Raven has nothing against rain, but would agree that water should not bubble or be quite so hot.” Raven peeks his head out a little farther, looking at Duir curiously, and Weaver wonders if he’s considering trying to join the Cerndyr on the safety of the bank. But soon Duir is gone, and Raven shrinks back into his makeshift nest, not yet comfortable being too far from his bonded.

“No. I grew up in a herd known as the Chamber, bordered by mountains and filled largely with pine forests. Warmer than here, though otherwise not terribly different. But I traveled for a year or so before settling here, so I have been a little bit of everywhere I suppose.” She does not tell him that the horns were a gift from a magician on her travels, that the wings were a gift from her Mother long ago. That once, she was born a simple equine with nothing. No magic, no wings, no horns, no companion. The world has given her much, and what it did not give, she earned.   "Are you from here?"

- weaver -

and you'll be told no lies