It seemed she had returned home once again. Rowan was ashamed of herself, as she always was when she slipped back into the borders. Why was it that she was so unnerved by herd life? Then again, she hadn't really been trying. Rowan had exactly zero friends within the Throat. How was she expecting herself to enjoy herd life when she wouldn't even give it a chance?

It was midnight, and the clouds had decided to retreat, bound to return by at latest midday tomorrow. The moon shone along her chocolate coat, illuminating flaxen mane until it seemed to be the color of the moonlight touching it. Oceanic eyes focused only on the oasis. The moon slid over the sky slowly, reflecting off its still surface. It was silent all over, the only noise being the soft swish of her tail and her hooves meeting the frozen sand. As she approached, her reflection came into view. Rowan stared into the still, glassy surface. Tracing her features slowly. She hardly dare breathe as she watched herself.

Who was she? She was far too young to be going through an identity crisis. Yet when she saw the gentle, submissive look always on her visage, she could only see Feyther. Feeling old and weary for a mere three summers, a soft remorseful sigh escaped her lips and created soft ripples over the still image, distorting and creasing it. Her eyes drifted up to look upon the reflection the moon cast.

Where now, Rowan?

Revelations did not come quickly as the woman gazed upon her reflection. To have such a revelation, there first must be thought upon the conflict. Assuming there was one of course. Time seemed turned to liquid as she stood there, minutes and seconds falling off the proverbial clock. And what was time to her anyways? She, who roamed and fled from shadows that did not exist? To Rowan, there was no future. Only the very millisecond she lived in. More than anything she wished for, deep within the secret chambers of her heart, the fae wanted to have such a future. Something, anything to look forward to. There was nobody to miss her presence, nor welcome her home and into their presence upon her return. She had turned into a shadow- unknown, unnamed, and unwanted. There was nothing she could offer other than the sharpness of her mind and her natural affinity to go undetected. 

So she asked herself once again. Where now, Rowan? Continuing this life on the road, returning to what was supposed to be her home only when dusk bled the sky of its color, was not a life to be proud of. When, she pondered, was the last time she had even spoke? Before Frostfall. It was a saddening discovery. One part of her was resigned to this lifestyle. Rowan suspected that was Feyther talking. The other, spirited part of her planted metaphorical hoof into the ground and refused to budge. It shrieked at her like a banshee from the depths of hell. Asking of her why in the world she was being so hate brained. This side was disgusted by her disloyalty to her herd. By her lifeless ways. Where was the passion she had as a filly? When all she cared for was proving that no matter her size she could take anyone on. Back then she had stated life in the face and grinned. Enjoyed simply living. 

Thoughts broke apart like a thin sheet of ice, cracking and exploding into tiny silver, sparkling fragments. Lost in the whites of her eyes, in the reflection of the moon of the lake. Soft, wry voice called out to her after the noise that had alerted Rowan to the stranger's presence. Blonde curls spread over her face as she lifted her cranium to face her. Iridescent eyes met her, flickering and moving so that young lass could not determine the exact shade. Older, wise in a way Rowan didn't and would likely never understand. Then again, they had traveled different paths. It was understandable. She stood taller than Rowan, but she had grown used to this fact. At least it was minimal, within one hand. Rowan dipped her head when realization came to her. This was their Oracle. 

"Of course you may. I was merely pondering." The voice that came onto the air soft and respectful. This was her mentor, or was to be. The famed Cassiopeia. Rowan was a wonderful listener, and knew how high the herd held the dark roan mare. Dark copper body moved to better face the winged woman. "I am Rowan. Can I venture to assume you are Cassiopeia? I have heard much of you, if that does not sound strange." Every skilled or highly classed member was often brought up in conversation. Midas, Cassiopeia, Kri, Leander, Azzuen. Rowan had heard them all, and every piece of information was stored tightly away in her photographic memory.  

Every step of the midnight mare's was calm and collected as body drew closer. Echoing over the desert lands the sound of her passing. Sand, sand everywhere. It was obvious within the tendrils of ebony of Cassiopeia's hairs, such bright color as if drowning in the night sky. Tan colored stars in the swath of black. Apparent only on Rowan where it had attached to her slim chocolate legs, disappearing in golden locks. Rowan could not determine why she would focus on something so unsubstantial. Then again her thoughts had been peculiar this entire night.

Cassiopeia's visage was brought forth in her vision, amusement subtly washing over her aesthetically pleasing face. The princess and the pauper. Assumption being verified by dip of crown and following words. Smiling in a fashion neither welcoming nor cruel as she stood off to Rowan's side. Wondering again at what such a small motion could mean. Smiling shyly back, like an awestruck fan or child in the presence of the one they admired. Rowan had little self confidence, whereas Cassiopeia seemed to exude it from every pore. Her name, one she had thought was plain, sounded so different falling from the vocal chords of the older mare. "I have. Since before the frost took over. I am meant to apprentice beneath you, I believe. Perhaps that is why my name strikes your memory?" Voice quiet and soft in the shy manner she always held. Inquisitive.

[[ooc; It's quite alright! Mine is rather short as well. My apologies for the late reply!]]

Recognition is more solid as time slips on. Name has stirred memory, pushed by hints of apprenticeship never completed. Scholar. A rank unbefitting the flighty youth. Desire to know the mysteries of the earth and skies have brought her nought. Knowledge withheld by turmoil within her mind. Any lessons she could garner from her travels have been corrupted, tarnished by her own steel trap mind. Should she really hold title in this herd if she cannot even stay within its walls for more than a single passing if the moon?

Cassiopeia would not know of this. They had only just been introduced. How Rowan's name could have circulated even minutely throughout the dulcet whispers of herd members was impossible to wrap her thoughts around. Rowan was a ghost, a weak image of their leader. It was amusing to see how similar they were, yet so drastically different in the mazes of their souls. Rowan could never have the grounded experience of Kri. Both women had lapsed into silence that lasted for hardly the beat of a hummingbird's wing. And when at last her mentor's melodious voice reaches her ears it is infused with a type if playful self defeating amusement that Rowan understands vaguely. Crown turns slightly away from her, angled towards the sand they stand upon. It feels wrong for Cassiopeia to apologize to her, someone Rowan looks up to asking for such trivial forgiveness from a peasant. "I admit to not having been around enough for you to mentor me at all, fair lady." Admission ripping something fragile and heavily guarded- her privacy. The night has swayed her, she muses. Releasing the very shadows that plague her, drive her away from an abode lips refuse to call home. Moonlight surely must be playing with her, for why else would she reveal something so drastically intimate? A laughing, skeletal faced companion that hounds at her heels and drive her to the edges of misery and self doubt. Pulling back the cloak that shield her friend from the eyes of the wise, of the ones who can possibly help her. But why would a princess, both feathered and fine, look upon a child with a tempest for heart and wish to reach inside to calm it? Present time has brought upon her the sinking of dread. Grief rises up to claim her like the swamps of the forests she is afeared of. How dare she think she is even worthy of saying such things, and to a loyal member of the family she intrudes upon? To admit to slipping away every morn? She is a disgrace, but she keeps coming back. Hoping that maybe someone will see past the cloak of invisibility she appears to wear and will keep her locked to them, ball and chain. Logical mind struggles to break through this sudden swarm of emotion and self deprecation. 

Why must she think so cynically? Perhaps Cassiopeia will not turn her away. Perhaps she will lean forward with eyes that see right through Rowan and tell her that everything will indeed be alright. That this really is home. That there is no more need to run. 

Cyan eyes are thick with every thought, windows to the soul she cannot shut down or control. Even as the midnight lass inquires to Rowan's own inquiries. "When one is faced with such a question, mind goes blank. Questions that once plagued the mind at oddest of moments, hound us through our days, suddenly cannot be held onto. After all, when faced with such a question, the entire universe is under examination. And how can we fathom all those questions? Pick merely one out of a mass so unending? So infinite? For there will always be more to appear with every passing moment and breath. I suppose I can ask how is it the Gods could possibly make a world such as this, yet not destroy it with the tremulous bonds between them? What is it that brings the northern lights to our skies in the north? How does the mind work for each individual equine, and how is it that one can read personality through the subtle structure of another's face? Or the simple question of our own existence. There are many questions within my mind, Cassiopeia. Always formulating more. What I do with those questions is what matters. For how can my questions be answered if there is no one by my side to give me such pleasure of knowledge and understanding?"Philosophical perhaps. And Rowan feels old with the way her mind is buzzing. Circulating over the subjects that never seem to end. Photographic memory has sealed every question in a tight indestructible package. For the dame wishes to know everything. Learn about every impossible question, every particle that effects the entire universe. That is her desire, her goal. One that is unattainable as of now because of her own discrepancies between the mind and heart. 

"Well, perhaps that can be changed."

Smile against midnight lips. Something inside the depths of Rowan's floundering helplessness breaks through. Blinks open eyes that have been closed in agony and refusal to accept what has happened. Cassiopeia is reaching out to her, perhaps without even realizing she is doing so. Is throwing the metaphorical life preserver out into the thick swamp Rowan has somehow found herself stuck in. It's such a simple phrase. On normal grounds, with a normal equine, it would be a kind thing to say. But Rowan is not standing on normal ground. Feeling instead as if her hooves are balanced precariously on crumbling ground, wingless and bare in ways her mind cannot comprehend. Furthermore she is no normal equine. Shock and some type of dizziness have taken over, throwing her into vertigo with such simple words. Could Cassiopeia truly see enough in her to wish for her to stay? Would she help guide the conflicted girl through the fog she was trying to break through? Had been trying to break through since he had been molded by Feyther?

Even under the growing ties of friendship and acquaintance, something sorrowful lingers in the hearts of both mares as they stand beside the pool, light flickering off the highlights of their bodies. Rowan wishes she could delve inside Cassiopeia's mind. Not to intrude upon her privacy, but to discover how she had grown up haunted by the same questions as Rowan, but had come out of it as a strong and wise woman. The floundering she felt, all throughout her childhood and into adolescence, hadn't disappeared as she had wished it to when Helovia had opened up and welcomed her into its lands. Would she ever have her questions answered? Destroy the plague of inquisition that inhabited her mind? Give her the peace, the grounded feeling of understanding?

Feyther had been unable to destroy that. The unquenchable thirst for knowledge that had been instilled in Rowan moons before her first breath was drawn into her lungs. Old mare had grown snappish and irritated by the barrage of questions that assaulted her daily. Dismissing them as childish. Unanswerable. Chiding her, wondering why in the world she would wonder something so drastic in the first place. The old bat may have been able to push Rowan back inside herself, but she had never been able to calm her fevered mind or stop the dizzying rush she got when another question appeared. 

Before she could even contemplate why she was speaking, the words were flowing from her vocals. Not a word was a lie nor did she ever wish to lie to the beautiful doe that stood opposed to her. So caught up in the rhythm of the sentences, the way they left her lips that she was oblivious to the luminescent eyes that watched her as she spoke. A fire had been set in her breast and with every word was inflamed. Something deep and old stirred inside Rowan, awakened by the knowledge Cassiopeia offered so willingly. Every particle of her essence longed to latch onto that, to suck in every piece of knowledge Cassiopeia could ever bestow upon her. 

This sudden swelling and awakening of herself was brought to a standstill as lilting voice broke through her thoughts after she trailed off into silence. A flush of embarrassment and pleasure warmed away the chill that lingered. Modestly, borderline shy, chocolate crown dipped and let bright hairs fall over her face to hide away from the praise. Even so, a bright hopeful smile had taken over her face. Brightening eyes into a soft blue, forgetting momentarily the troubles that sucked greedily upon her joy like leeches. To know that Cassiopeia understood her complex mind, had gone through every experience Rowan had, was comforting to a degree that she was nearly to the point of begging to be told how to deal with it. Velvet black muzzle brushed deep chocolate shoulder and Rowan smiled and laughed softly at the wink sent her way. "Thank you, very much Cassiopeia. I think it's both a gift and a curse, such musings. However being open to myself, that is the point in which I am stuck and cannot move further." Cerulean irises drifted up to meet the soft greener tinted ones. Silently reaching out to this woman who had descended upon her like a blessing wrapped in ebony. Asking for guidance, a light to show her the way. Someone to gift her with understanding, even of the intimate nature of herself. 

Another softer, more thoughtful laugh followed at Cassiopeia's intelligent words. 
"I'm afraid it can. It's an unquenchable thirst, a burn with no ointment. But when one simple answer is given...that is why I am inclined to call it a rather strange mix of blessing and curse." Muzzle dipping earthbound in agreement. "The true potential of our minds can never be fully unleashed." No need to reply, it was something Rowan had discovered through the placated wanderings of her life. 

Cassiopeia's beliefs were listened to intently. Every person had their own ideals about what happened when life was vanquished, or simply faded away. Pondered with every death of a close friend or more where they went and what they did when their last breath had left their lungs. Wise words were not lecturing nor demanded anything of the girl, but when she advised Rowan to focus on more trivial things the lines of worry and unease slowly melted from youthful face and a smiled crawled to her face once again. "Thank you again. Sometimes it's a little too easy to wander through life worrying and hounding the ideas we cannot obtain. I will certainly try to, it takes years I've yet to experience off my shoulders." Smile turning whimsical and amused, shy and young in a way she hadn't felt in a few months. 

Both lapsed into comfortable silence. Though Rowan had no clue to the feeling of importance Cassiopeia felt, her own transformation was taking place. Finally she felt as if she belonged somewhere. Knew she could return to her mentor whenever she needed to. There's no more need to run, Rowan. You're not alone now. She can guide you, but you have to let her. So moved by Cassiopeia's words, Rowan extended trembling muzzle to brush against her mentor's. Gratitude shone so clearly in her eyes it nearly exuded from her very pores. "I-I can't thank you enough. I've been trying...so long to find my way. Anything you can do, I will accept what you tell me to try and do. Perhaps someday I can achieve the same amount of self understanding you possess. More than anything I desire that inner peace, and if you will gift me with the ability to do the same for others I will try and make it worth your time." Every quivering syllable filled to the brim with how indebted Rowan felt in that moment. That Cassiopeia would appear on the night of her troubles and promise her to guide her into finding peace. The one thing Rowan had been searching for all this time. 

No more running Rowan. Open your eyes. It's time you took the first step.