LACE</style> before the sun sets GLORY </style> Perhaps he was challenging fate by lingering at this place. It wasn't long since he had parted ways with Tor, a mare thought to be a friend that just had turned the world of the stallion on its head. Could things even get more complicated? Magic, war and strife, gods and strange natural phenomenon, friendships turned awkward and now the troublesome thing that was love drama on top of it all. Lace felt like he was a million years old where he strolled through the grove, head held low and shoulders slumped in an expression of painful weariness. Tor was in love with him. He tasted the sentence, rolled it in a figurative mouth and savored it, as if a solution might appear if he only considered the problem long enough. It was a problem, unfortunately, because it made things unpredictable. Mares were erratic creatures even to begin with, and as soon as the phenomenon known as love came into play, they automatically became hard to handle. Smiles and politeness suddenly didn't soothe them anymore, the most innocent topic could send them off in tears, or rage, or fuming indignation - without ever bothering to tell the stallion what he'd said wrong. Should he be flattered, bothered, petrified in fear of the soon to come explosion? Things weren't exactly made easier by the fact that they were supposed to be friends, and that he kind of rejected her. It was the honest thing to do, because it was true that his heart didn't respond in a proper way to her confession. Still, he had undoubtedly hurt her by doing so... The stallion heaved a long, mournful sigh, so loud that a pale silk-feathered bird in pink hues gave him a startled look and took off from the rock it had been sitting on. He couldn't help but smile at the glance it had given him. A pale, twisted smirk, but enough to bring back a little bit of glitter to his eyes. Ah well. Things would work out, one way or another. As long as there weren't going to be any more dramatic encounters with mares... Just as the thought passed his mind, a sound of hooves made the grulla lift the head and turn to look over the shoulder. "Faelene" he said in quiet disbelief as golden eyes caught sight of the dark rose-maned femme wandering through the forest. "This is a surprise... Question is, was it a good surprise? The smile he offered the unicorn was somewhat hesitant, gaze wandering over her features in search for some sign that she wasn't going to suddenly attack. They had sworn friendship on one another, but would such a feeble oath last in times like these? They were on different sides in the struggle between Edge and Basin, it was a fact that was hard to overlook. Hurray, way to go. More drama, keep it coming. Would it be very rude to pound his head against a tree?

F A E L E N E everything is held at length Her body eased through the protection of the trees more relaxed than usual, though she would never fully drop her guard. There was too many things that could happen, and her imagination was full of wild notions one more unlikely than the next. It was part of the paranoid child within her, something disturbing, and yet needed she would always have. If she thought about it, most horses no matter wing, horn, or nothing had instincts to fight or flee. She had not had the pleasure of meeting a blessed soul who had their head in the clouds, unaware of anything but butterflies and rainbows. Surely, no one had had such a blissful childhood free of pain, sorrow, and fear. Though if she had a child she would want such for them even if she could not guarantee much of it. How could she? Her own safety wasn't for certain, every day it changed, depending on what was a stake, who was in risk. Something she wanted to come to an end, but could not bring herself to change it. Your waiting to be forced. A thought she had numerous times, and ingored it that much more. Just like that thought of her becoming a mother. Something she wanted somewhere in a small corner of her heart, and feared even more. It was much easier to have only herself to take care of, but who was she kidding? She wasn't selfish, and already had a good number she never wanted harmed. It was strangely wanting to grow, and she could not force herself into cold stone. Flipping her neck, she let the built up worries escape in a sigh, and than let her mouth graze at bits of grass if only for something to do. The greenery was not tasteless here, and she fed herself some to deal with something she could change. Continuing along the beat of a bird in flight, her ear flicked, and she lifted her head, peering into the faint glow of the distance sun. A rise of her hoof, she walked in search of what had startled the creature. There was a trail of white that appeared like snow, leading to a silver stallion who peered at her with a golden gaze. The white lines across his face confirmed it was Lace. Strange the sound of her name with his voice. The look he carried was worst, if like Leander she could see him questioning her, and the horn she carried. They had their own prejudice. "Don't look at me like that, please," the clip of her vocals were cool, expect for the very last word she added. However much she wanted to move closer, she would not, if to give him peace of mind. Attacking him was not on her mind, he had never given her a reason, and she hoped he would not now. "I still want to be friends, but I don't blame you if you rather change your mind." That was the truth, she didn't plan on everything working out, it was a fact of life she couldn't eat her cake and keep it too.

LACE</style> before the sun sets GLORY </style> Clearly, this wasn't going to be the open and lighthearted chat like the first one they had shared. How sad wasn't it, that as soon as that first tactile bond had been established, you automatically began to assume things about others. Like their goodness, their strength, the durability of their minds. Mostly it was nothing but preconceptions and platitudes plastered onto another like labels to reassure yourself, to try and mold them after your own measure so that when weighed, they would always be on the right side. Come to think of it, hadn't it been stupid to make promises in the first place? Two strangers meeting for the first time should never make vows - they were so damn easy to break. What obligations did you have to care for the heart of another, what weight did their opinions have, when it came down to it? This was the kind of situation you ended up with after getting ahead of yourself. Two horses, wishing for friendship but separated by.. different views? And yet when they first met, Lace could never have believed that Faelene was one to run with the kind of people that lived at the Basin. Racists, narrow minded unicorns with nothing but blood and hatred on their minds. And she wanted him to be understanding? "No? Then how am I supposed to look at you, Faelene? Do you even realize that we're on different sides here? Please, give me a reason to trust you. Tell me why you stay with them. I want to be your friend, but you're making it damn hard..." Was it anger, was it sadness? He wasn't sure, but the intensity of the words only reflected the tightness he felt in the chest as he looked at the beautiful mare. She looked warm, as if she'd been running for a long time; even across the well-measured distance between them he could feel her scent. He was glad that Fajira was off hunting. Things wouldn't get easier if the little dragon began to meddle in the discussion - Lace was having a hard time controlling his emotions as it was. A part of him wanted to shout at her, blame her for the capture of Kiara, Solstice, for the absence of Mirage that had placed such heavy burdens on his shoulders - he wished to clench the teeth around her slender neck and shake her until she realized how wrong it was for his friend to be siding with the ones who threatened to harm his family... But how could he? Lace was as much in the wrong. Hadn't he participated in the invasion that ultimately drove the dove away from a place she had called home? Maybe she held a grudge for that, maybe there were other reasons why she stayed there... He would give her a chance to explain. Please, do let it be a good one - but in his heart, Lace truly felt that no excuse would be good enough to justify the things her herd mates were doing. What she was becoming accomplice to.

From the waters rises the beautiful figure of a pale and ethereal armored mare. Her eyes are the deepest of blues, her coat the gentlest of hues. From her brow rise two great antlers, along her back are laid the starry pelts of snow foxes and fallen arctic beasts. White fur mixes with darker hues and a cold wind that has followed her from her frozen heaven ruffles the gathered furs. Powerful and purposeful, she steps towards her fellow mare, and lowers her adorned head in greeting. Upon closer inspection, one can see leather straps strung between her antlers and gems like the eyes of her kills dangling from the strands of her smoke-made mane.

Water that once crashed against her now flows within her, carrying with it the magic of the grove and its soothing light. Lace is inconsequential to her for the moment; she is a lover once spurned, one that knows the steps of a stallion's dance better than any other. Her deep eyes cast their wary glance upon him, her lioness' tail whips in warning. She will save him for later.

But for the moment she bows to Faelene, exhaling frozen stardust and breathing in life from the grove. "A mare as strong as yourself deserves something to show for it, Faelene," comes a voice, seemingly detached from the ethereal mare as she stands with lips tightly closed. She speaks into the minds of the pair with a voice that echoes like thunder yet whispers like a rushing tide. "I give to you a pelt of your choosing; a pelt which will forge for you the armor of kings." She seems sure and steady as he gaze catches the other mare's and locks onto it. There is a connection here that Lace is not a part of- at least not for the moment.

F A E L E N E everything is held at length A chat would have been better, how infrequent she was blessed with having those. Certainly they did not have any with the Unicorns in the Basin, strange stalkers, or Leander. Lace was likely the last one she had spoke of nothing importance to, if she really had no care in the world, worry of the tides of change. They had never knew where their hearts were, and were what homes they belonged. It was all out there now wasn't it, and how he looked at her. She could the same, with little she knew of Mirage but that of the invasion, and the ways it had been fought. She was unlike the rest of the Aurora, she had no blind hatred....not any more. It was with that she was lingering, wanting him to understand. Leander didn't, no matter the words that fell from her lips. It was hard not to think he was ready to cast that day aside, and her promise for nothing. Could he really believe she had no reasons for where she was? Knowing full well how her mouth could run away with her she clamped her lips in a firm line to let him speak. There was nothing wrong with what he said, he had every right to feel that way. How did he know she wasn't setting him up for his downfall? She wasn't the most sick of all them? He didn't, but all she needed was him to want to her hear out, the slip of the word want, and friend giving her that damn flicker of hope. Quietly, her eyes would drop if only to collect a thoughtful face. Looking upon him with a raise of her chin, her dark mask was poised, calm as her words. "I can't explain it in short terms, as I have tried to another friend. I will tell you not all in the Aurora Basin are what you think. This is one reason that keeps me there. Secondly, no one seems to realize some of us may strangely like our own kind, and their company for reasons we have had no control over. That was I joined them in the first place. Third, if you think I would hurt someone over the fact they don't have horn, it would be best if you leave, that would be the easiest thing to do...." It was the truth, she would try not to drag him into all of it, let him treat her as the enemy. A sound not often heard, if at all, broke amongst her pause in sentence. It was with a half furrowed look she held Lace's gaze, her eyes slowly daring to glimpse to the near by pool. If her life wasn't already endless chaos, from the water rose an unearthly, and so heavenly lady to say she was easy on the eyes was an understatement. A longer look, since Faelene could not pull her eyes from the sight, were grand horns with wicked tines, and upon the curve of the lady's back soft furs. Could she possibly be walking toward Faelene? How the red maned managed to keep her mouth closed she doesn't know, but she lowers her head graciously in return. A voice, though not heard by ears, is steady in her mind, greatly matching the spirit's appearance, gentle and untamed. What she said tugged at a core of her soul, part needed to hear such a powerful things in times such as these. If this was all enough, the lady would grant Faelene something she had always wanted, another extra layer of protection...fit for royalty. How much did this mare know of her? It was thrilling and strange to feel exposed, nothing to hide. What pelt should she choose? Dragon was the first that to mind, it would be tough, perhaps somewhat fireproof. She couldn't live with such a thought, and was not willing to ask. It was hard enough to think of any creature losing it's life, and sadly what she wanted would cost more than one."Honey badger," she would respond in thought, and voice if to make sure this isn't a wild fairy tale.

[OOC: Feel free to skip Lace in a few posts. :)]

There is a soft sigh and a gentle exchange of air as it draws from Faelene's lips and the mythical mare inhales her emotion. "A honey badger? Such a ferocious and apathetic creature for one with such a capacity to be noble," the mare replies with apparent worry, but forced compliance. The words that danced across the wind now wrap around the strange mare and take action, drawing from her back the hidden black and white pelt of a honey badger. She dips her head and graces it with a touch of her horns, casting magic upon it and bringing it up to dance. The pelt hovers in the air, seems to divide and widen; strip itself and mold itself perfectly. Stripes of white and black fur line and pad the armor, while a tough and leathery exterior of pitch prepares itself to face the wear and tear of Faelene's future. A special mask is carved from the essence of the badger itself, lined with ferocious teeth and parting at the point of the horn. There beneath the hole for the horn, where the leather curls underneath to match the outline of Faelene's protrusion, the mare places a special gift: a gem of her own. A round, midnight black stone set in the clearest and brightest of translucent yellows- the eye of the honey badger.

Water swirls within her ethereal figure and expels itself, carrying the armor to Faelene on a floating wave. It wraps each piece around her delicate body, soothing her with its starry cold liquid. The armor rests perfectly in place, and then the straps extend seemingly from nowhere. There is a snap of her lioness tail and each strip of leather smacks against its partner, knotting and twisting to fasten the pieces in their places.

Blue eyes smile with satisfaction and the proud head of the ethereal being lifts to admire her own handiwork. "A gift well deserved, but a dangerous one. Take care of it, Faelene," she whispers into the mind of the mare, this time making sure Lace can hear none of it. Her eyes turn to him, her tail twists in the cold air, and the earth beneath the stallion's feet begins to climb across his flesh in a driving force. It coats him, sending waves of warmth through his body and burning a dark symbol into his being. The dirt falls away with a flick of her forelock and the image of a tree- blackened and yet beautiful in its own right- stays behind. Her voice rings in his mind, gentle and wild; "Fear not, Lace- you were not forgotten." She speaks with a look of comfort, yet looks upon him with hardened eyes. A warning, perhaps; he will do well to treat his company kindly. Her voice in his thoughts makes this clear, the soft sigh of breath across her lips gives him no choice.

LACE</style> before the sun sets GLORY </style> Was it anger, was it sadness? It most certainly was frustration, and a gnawing sensation without name that everything had become fucked up ever since the launch of the invasion. Could he make that day undone? No. Did he want to? No. But he did wish for the outcome to have been different. Perhaps it would have been so much easier if he hadn't spoken to anyone but Mirage, if he had been blind and naive and simpleminded, so that he could hate everyone with a horn on their heads for what their kin was doing. But he wasn't blind, nor stupid, and Lace wasn't one to draw conclusions about the nature of a whole from the actions of a few. That would place him on the same level as those mindless racists who lumped everyone together, forming a black and white world of "us" and "them". It was an unfortunate tendency for everyone who lived within a group, one he had been faced with from the day he was born - and one he had struggled against ever since he got old enough to recognize the pattern for the prejudice it was. As he listened to his friend, the stallion was however forced to realize that his situation had become somewhat precarious. On one hand he was still Lace the Vagabond, the outcast rover who never stayed and never cared about race, loyalties or allegiances. That part of him wanted to nod and agree with the black mare, give her right and say he understood what she meant. It wasn't like it was she who had done the kidnappings, nor was she obliged in any way to help the Edge or those who lived there - because they had taken her home away, and no amount of smooth talking would take away that fact or clear away the guilt. But on the other hand, he couldn't deny that he was Lace of World's Edge, the Glazier who cared for the friends and adopted family of the Qian. As a member of the herd, and especially as a high ranked member, he held a responsibility towards the rest, to make sure that they were safe, protected and provided for. Protect those who cannot protect themselves. That was the core of Qian, the rule of the herd he lived in, and it made his friendship with Faelene hard to explain. Was he supposed to listen as a friend, or as a member of the Edge? Could he be both, without ending up betraying those he was charged to protect? Finding an answer was difficult, and the process of thought left him silent even after the unicorn mare - the Basin member - had finished speaking. How should he reply, what was he thinking, what did he feel about it? He wasn't sure, and the uncertainty spilled over onto his facial features as the golden eyes turned to meet her gaze. "Faelene, I..." he began with a tone that bordered on being pleading. But before he had time to finish, the rise of an apparition from the still waters of the lake caught his attention and made the words die away from his lips. Dark ears fell back as the hairs along the spine rose in a shiver, a confirmation that the pale shape of an armored mare was as ethereal and incorporeal as she looked. He was clearly not the target of her attention, and for that the silver-maned stallion was very grateful. There had been more than enough of encounters with strange creatures for the past months, and the last thing he needed was another one to give him tasks and award him with gifts he wasn't sure he wanted. Warily he watched the exchange between the Valkyrie and Faelene, remaining respectfully quiet as his friend was gifted with a magnificent armor, lined with fur and exuding a very capable look. It was clearly not a decorative piece, but one meant to be used. Was it a hint? A sign of hard times to come? Perhaps it was just a gift, from a lonely ghost to an equally lonely mare torn between friendship and loyalties. Or maybe that was just him. It suited the dark-skinned mare however, lending her an air of ferociousness and competence that she surely didn't lack. The stallion nodded in silent appreciation, eying the details of the armor with the eyes of a fellow craftsman - one who meddled in glass rather than leather and steel, but a crafter none the less. But when the ghostly horned lady turned her attention towards him and the earth suddenly came alive under his feet, the expression of happiness for the sake of a friend faded - hardened. More magic? By the gods, were he sick of it. The stallion tried to escape the hands of clay that reached for him, hooves trampling rapidly to carry him back, sideways - but even as he moved the earth began to coat his skin, gradually covering his body until he feared he'd be robbed of both sight and ability to breathe. The warmth was ignored, the soothing effects left without acknowledge. This wasn't something he appreciated at all - was the ghost trying to kill him? The thought of being pulled into the earth and buried deep below rock and roots made the eyes roll from fear, distracting him enough to dull the sensation of dirt against the skin. Then the soil fell away from him and Lace was left standing with legs spread wide and flaring nostrils, shook up from the rough treatment that came with neither explanation nor consent. The left shoulder throbbed with a burning sensation as if a hot iron had been pressed into the flesh; when he looked down he noticed black strands of hair shaped like a barren tree where once there had only been smooth gray coating. Bewildered, unsure of whether this was a gift, a curse or some other mark, he dared to look back onto the antlered mare. The hard gaze was met with one equally as hard, though perhaps not for the same reasons; her warning was unnecessary either way, since Lace wasn't accustomed to harming his friends - or anyone undeserving of it. "Perhaps, being forgotten isn't such a bad thing" he muttered, giving the black mark on the shoulder a wry look. A few more strange marks, and he'd start look like a scribble board... "Might I ask what earned me this honor?"

F A E L E N E everything is held at length A grin pleasantly curved her lips by pure amusement. Yes, the creature she choose was exactly what she wanted, and she would not feel so heavy with guilt for using it in such a way. Perhaps the light lady thought a more noble animal would have wanted a noble purpose such as this. Faelene nodded her certainty. The honey badger had a few qualities she wished she had at times, Lace was proof that was not sough. Her faint silver eyes were a lit with wonder. The air came alive with whispers of more magic, strange twinge of zaps to her nerves, a rush to the beat of her heart, a breath to be hold when the work began. Closely she was captivated, pulled to how the crafter did her work. It made Faelene look much younger being drawn in the task, a familiar childish curiosity upon her face. This was her armor. Pieces of light honey, the contrasting colors of black and white. It was both beautiful, and fierce. The mask is the grandest, and most special to the red maned. The crafter places a beautiful stone, after leaving a place for her horn, and lining it with it's sharp teeth. She could not have imagined it better. When it is placed upon her, she let out a heavy breath of surprise and delight by the cool touch, the way it conformed ot her body. She had rarely felt such happy emotions, especially all at once she was trying to take it in as true reality. Collecting herself, though she feels no need to in her presence or Lace's she succumbs to cry for joy. The mare kneels to the lady, solemnly bowing her head. Did she know the red maned had little words that could describe her gratitude and happiness? "I will," she says out loud and steady in her mind, in a tone full of her heart's emotion. Standing she meets the rich blue pools of the fellow lady and Unicorn with a single tear to her cheek. Lace becomes the focus, but Faelene is not worried for his safety. Clearly, he was deserving of something as well to the lady. By the earth, and motion she has given him the marking of a black tree. Poor Lace had tried to dance from it, and Faelene had a soften look wondering what he was afraid of. Maybe, he had seen more dark magic than she. She was happy when he did not run away, but stood looking upon it. It was a beautiful thing, but he was in question for why it was placed.

There are too many questions with too many obvious answers- too many rude comments unbalanced by worship. The blue mare swiftly turns red, the eyes that once comforted now stare into the depths of the soul. Heaven or Hell indeed- she was a beast from both. Where water swam within her, fire takes its place and seeps up through the cracks of incorporeal skin to light her dorsal stripe on fire. The pelts fall to ashes, the horns twist and become gruesome, blood covered figures. Nothing that is only an angel could kill in such a manner as she had.

When her prey dies, it is with a look of terror in its eyes. Faelene saves Lace's ungrateful life today, whether he knows it or not. But as the whispers into their consciousnesses turn to screams and the cooling, comforting sensation fades in place of a hot, painful one, her rage is clear. "Do not disrespect an emissary of the realms of death- do not belittle my purpose before you, foolish Lace!" The cry is painful and piercing, all while being deep and intimidating. The ghostly, demonic mare is both everything and nothing at once. She is all power and yet utter weakness; she will not act, but they still must fear.

All around her, little fires begin to sprout- yet none of them burn. Her mind reaches forth again, this time violently and quickly, sending along with it a reeling sensation that could quickly lead to nausea. "The gifts bestowed upon you have all been ones well deserved. Has it occurred to you that your encounters have all been for a reason, that each mark upon your flesh, each demonic or angelic encounter, is a sign? Is one of divinity?" The mare tosses her wild head and shifts her gaze to the red-maned beauty that kneels for her- that would likely bleed for her.

The voice returns to a simmering, softness, but they still maintain a gravelly note. Words sent only to Faelene's mind are spoken. "The armor you wear is a responsibility. You must rise to the occasion it presents. Do not allow yourself to fall into selfishness or greed; nor callousness. Your company has begun his descent, only he can right himself." The mare begins to turn and the fires go out all at once. "Never falter, Faelene; and never fall."

Water seeps from the shore up to her being, slowly cooling her figure as she steps into its softness. She says no goodbyes, only turns and looks Lace in the eyes. Looks deep and long, leaving whatever meaning he may construe. Her figure returns to ever shade of blue and antlers reconstruct themselves. The ghostly body reconfigures swiftly into that of an antlered doe, until the spirit leaps away in a path that makes a perfect arc. Nothing is left save for mud on the shore, deer prints following her path, and utter terror.

LACE</style> before the sun sets GLORY </style> Maybe Faelene should have been fearing for him, after all. The sudden change from serene yet ghostly beauty into something akin to a demon of hell startled him, as the entity had probably intended. Yet within the startled fear there was also a grim sense of justification, a belief that he had been proven right; blind trust was never a good thing, not when it came to creatures of power. Still, he couldn't help it. The voice, despite the words that wanted him to shout back when faced with their demand on humility, caused the elegantly carved lobes to fold back in a futile attempt at blocking out the voice from his head. Sweat broke out on the base of the neck, darkening the silver coat as he struggled against an instinct to turn and run away from this danger. Eyes rolled, tail snapped, but in an act of pure stubbornness the Glazier remained - not looking away from the hellish mare who had branded him as were he naught but a bull chosen for slaughter. He was relieved when she disappeared. He was left standing next to the now armor-clad Faelene, legs trembling from the onslaught of pure will, chest heaving as if he had been running a mile at full speed. As if shot by a cannon Fajira suddenly burst into the glen, announcing her presence and queering about his safety in a cacophony of chirping sounds; she flew on and off around him, in tighter and tighter circles... until she suddenly was pushed back when the stallion reared with a furious howl and slammed the hooves hard into the ground. "And that is precisely why I hate magic!" he snapped, a frustrated growl sprung from annoyance, helplessness and - yes - fear. "They come in, force their will upon you and then expect you to be grateful, without even once pausing to ask if this is what you want. What disrespect, what belittling? Why am I to crawl on the ground before someone who hasn't earned my faith, whose purpose I don't know and for a gift I never asked for?" "IN WHAT WAY AM I LESSER THAN THEM!?" Enraged and too worked up to even try to conceal it he bucked in a defiant kick against an imaginary enemy, then continued to paw the ground with his feet, biting the words off and spitting them out in the wake of the spirit - not really caring whether she still could hear him or not. Seething, Lace began to pace back and forth before his sworn friend with a tail that whipped like ocean foam, not unlike an angry cat in the way the sleek muscles worked beneath taught skin for every long step, every impatient stride. He muttered to himself, cursing all fickle apparitions and self-righteous ghosts under his breath, before suddenly stopping. Soil caved in under his weight as he suddenly turned towards Faelene with eyes hard as amber stone and glowing with pent up emotions - smiling, but coldly in a way very few horses had seen before. It was hard to rile Lace up like this, after all. "And you know what's best of all? She didn't even answer my fucking question. Now I can't even be sure that this isn't some brand to mark me as the next meal for some rabid seadragon or whether its just meant for decoration. Decoration! Hah! As if I've earned anything, as if anything divine has anything to do with me. The thought is just ridiculous." And then he had to pause, because the air in his lungs was running out. Winded and angry, he glared at the mare as if daring her to speak - even though he wasn't really angry at her, this time.

(ooc: Do you want to continue this, Sica? We can always start a new one up.. I feel they have some things they need to discuss)

F A E L E N E everything is held at length ooc;sorry <3 I want to continue here unless a fresh one would be easier. :3 I was catching on my other posts and being a slow poke. Lace, she did not know what bothered him. Where her instincts so screwed up they were not screaming to run? No, she didn't believe that. The Unicorn spoke to her very core, this was all happening for a reason. Everything did. Instantly by the makes of his ungrateful tongue the lady became a different figure of danger, death, and seething demon. Dark ears flatten to her head, no use to block out the wicked voice picking like knives into her head, soul, and possibly flesh. Orange, and white flame begin to scatter around them but burns nothing. It does not lesson the height of alert, and tingling fear the lingers. Faelene does not believe once the lady will smite Lace. Moisture begins pouring down her own poll, knees locked by the body's weakness. Penetrating eyes fall to her, temporary calm, lingering in the tiniest fractions. It was her warning, her price for this. It would burn into her, like a mark on her skin, but it would be in her heart. "I promise," she assured with a cool, even tone,visage beholding of a face etched with past despair, hope, and determination to leave no room for doubt. Now, she could feel purpose, something to keep her tied in the upcoming storms. The red maned would start to believe caring too much was not a weakness. Maybe, she was doing something half right. Even as the lady took on another form, she was frozen trying to shake it all away. Half of her wanted to push herself to a stand, open her eyes, take a cold breath of the night and realize it was just a dream tangling with a nightmare. A swipe of her eyelash, the thundering trace of anothers heart and pouring breath Faelene was surely wide awake. Fajira was the one to fully pull her into reality, the white scales glimmering, and wild noises shooting from her mouth. Faelene protectively brought a hoof up to stand by her friend as she had been incapable of doing earlier, firmly it fell into place when Lace even shunned his companion's company. When he started ranting in fact she had to suppress the urge to put space between them. The phantom had said he could only right himself. While she might agree with the point he was making, she felt much to blessed with her gift to find the right words to say. Patiently, if pulling back insider herself, finding peace to hold onto she waited patiently for Lace to do the same. Once she offered Fajira a glance, if to ask if he always did this, and if he would be okay. Faelene expected no answer, though she was curious the deeper meanings behind his raving. Tucking in another couple mouthfuls of air, holding onto some before stealing another, feeling her armor clinging upon her, and the ground that vibrated into her bones from Lace's anger she remained rather unmoved. Last when he stopped, a provoking look, she had to tear at part of the earth with her hoof not to bite back. Remaining indifferent, she answered,"I believe she served a purpose, at least with my gift it was something that I have always wanted. She.. she knew a lot about me, more than just a wish. Surely, you have that for a reason too Lace, even if you don't want it. It means something." Faint silver eyes fell upon it, she had no idea what it stood for, she couldn't see into his soul. "However, I think if she meant to curse you, hurt you she would have accomplished that seconds ago. I do know what you mean, sometimes you don't feel this life is your own, and you wonder what's the point."

LACE</style> before the sun sets GLORY </style> Hurt by the brusque rejection of her concern the little dragon retreated away from the pacing stallion and landed upon the ground next to Faelene. Her injured silence was almost as tangible as his angry rant, and when her pale eyes met with the dark glance from the unicorn lady they were laden with confusion and worry. It was not at all common for the normally so patient and gentle horse to act up like this, he never lost his temper, ever. Fajira couldn't help it; even as he twirled around to face the black mare the little White inched forward a few steps, making a sound not unlike that of a lost kitten. Uneasy, frightened, lonely and concerned... She too was acting out of place, disconnected from thoughts and feelings she normally would have shared. The ears of the spider-laced horse twitched before pinning back against the poll as he heard the pathetic sound his dragon made, not at all in the mood to be neither reasonable nor understanding towards her pain right now. The reasonable tone Faelene served him did little to please him either; he met her words with a disregarding snort, wishing that she could have retorted with at least half the emotion he was exuding. "And I'm supposed to settle with that?" he retorted, trying to ignore the prick of guilt that passed through the mind as he heard his own sharp tone... what good did it to take it out on Faelene when it wasn't her he was mad at? "At least you had a choice on whether you wanted to receive that armor or not. I never heard a question in my case, not as much as a whisper. At best I'd say it was a bad case of chauvinist attitude, at worst I will expect dropping dead any minute now. No, actually; dropping dead on the spot would be merciful and I rather doubt that a creature like her would be capable of that." Another snort set the dark nostrils flaring from agitation, and in a fit of restlessness Lace began to pace again, only marginally less irritated than before. For a time he seemed unable to let go of whatever feelings of rage and fear that had caused this unusual behavior, and it was only slowly that the muscles of the shoulders started to loosen up and the ears returned from their place within the tangled mane. The apparition showed no signs of returning, and even now at his worst the Glazier wasn't one to linger over things he couldn't do anything about. With a grim expression he carefully stored away the memory of the ghost in the far regions of the mind and tried to shrug off the event; something made a lot harder by the fact that the shoulders now were marked by the event. Another something to mark his body, another scar marring the gray coat - only, unlike the ones won through hard work and many a battle, this wasn't something he wore with pride. How could he, when he had neither asked for it nor earned it? The good mood was wiped away, the beauty of the day ruined. Between a step and the next the stallion stopped and threw a short glance towards the two females, lined up before him like some sort of jury to judge his behavior. The cowering of the dragon annoyed as much as it pained him, as did the stoic face of the unicorn. "What?" he said and snapped the tail against the sooty hocks. "You think I'm acting stupid? Did you think I couldn't get angry, or that I wouldn't ever question anything thrown my way? I'd rather hear you yell at me than look at me like that, Faelene. If you have something to say, then say it; your patient mask won't fool me." She should know that it wasn't necessary to restrain herself around him, that she could say anything no matter what it was about. May it be that they didn't know each other all that well, but how would they ever get along if they never came clean? Suddenly tired he forced a sigh through tense lips, wondering if it was the vivid display of life and youth of the grove or something else that made him feel so old.

F A E L E N E everything is held at length Faelene did not know Lace well. Why she felt he had a good soul, she couldn't know what he was like in normal circumstances. If he got mad at ridiculous things or not. They had met once in relaxed atmosphere where they had chatted without driving much details of their lives. The second time, in Basin it had been the worst place to look upon his face, to see Fajira upon the ground where she didn't belong. They had gotten away. Sadly with no prisoners, but at least the Basin had not taken more. No one fiercely harmed, or damaged. What would be good enough for him? Change your perspective. Words echoed in her mind. Could she view the world through his golden eyes? She was renaming calm, nonchalant for great reasons. Faelene did not want to lose her own temper...not at him. That was too familiar, and unwanted. The same time, she felt the flares of her temper wonder what his real problem was. Was she getting closer to the reason behind his anger? There always was. Fajira looked lost, hurt, and Faelene was ready to snap at Lace for that. The white dragon did not deserve his scolding. He could yell at Faelene all he wanted. It was really cruel to be angry with his bonded. The lines around her eyes furrowed, and she half glared at him. With her tawny mask of protection he might not notice. Placing herself beside the scaled, she stood her ground feeling this was not over. Though she wanted it to be Faelene listened, letting her eyes widen to their normal place, trying to see this from his side. She would hope he would do at some point for her. "I don't like how she treated you, it scared me at her sudden change. I couldn't move, I couldn't speak. I thought what would I do if she had touched you, burned you.. I should have done something.." Eyes of liquid onyx met his beautiful gold, letting show her own fear and shame. She was talking more of just today. Light voice faded, heavy, and tried with her own disappointment. Oh please let this go. She wasn't about to forget it, the look on his face, all the feelings that had raked her heart. Yes, he had every right to be angry and Faelene focused on that fear, the flames, and how insane it must have been in his eyes, to him. She found it hard being upset with the ghostly mare. Maybe, that was the real problem. "I don't think you're acting stupid. I just think your mad at other things you haven't let out. I mean if I had gotten a mark instead, if she had talked to me like that I would probably be gnashing by teeth too, wondering what the hell. I sense this has happened to you before?" Her black ears twitched back at the question, eyes giving a blink. The question might be pushing the boundaries of their friendship, and it had already been through a bit just in the last moments. When the wear of his soul fell in breathe she took a stride in his direction. Her head to his level (careful of the horn on her head) she tried to catch his eye, tried to offer a gentle bump to the nose. "I'm not hiding anything from you. I'm trying to understand, be in your place. I think compared to what I might have done you are handling it better then I would have. She probably would have cursed me, I'm foolish enough to argue with a God of Time and Spark. But Lace, really do you think that tree has something to do with you or is a just a black mark upon you? If you think it's a curse I want to help you get rid of it. I feel it's my fault it's there."