Weary, she was weary.

Cream colored hooves drag lifelessly through the soil and thick waves of tall grass, pale legs dirtied with ash from the shrine she had knelt beside. In her heart, the shaman felt a quivering of uncertainty. Having faith in her mother, having faith in herself, and having faith in the sun above - all of it was being subject to question. The impending war that loomed over the Dragon's Throat like a dark cloud made her wish not to return to her desert home, and with the disappearance of the Sun God from the Veins, Onni was struggling with her inner turmoil more than ever. Still, when the healer closed her eyes, she could distinctly feel the presence of the warm deity resting in her soul. The mare was quite certain if she called upon the Sun for his healing that it would be delivered.

Yet, there was a shadow in her heart that had not existed before. The glimmer of optimism reigned her personality, and it was the reason why she was able to lift herself from the ground at the Veins. The God of the Sun would not abandon her; he was kind. He would return to Helovia, to her, and listen to her thoughts when the time was right. Perhaps, he was watching silently above, allowing for the tobiano to sort her own thoughts through. Quiet support would have been appreciated, but for now, she was left listening the the beating of her own heart in her ears. Slowly, the she makes her way clear of the brush, coming into the clear of sandy soil and the belly of fire that rises toward the sky, ash and cinder floating easily upon the wind.

Her blue eyes delight in the sight of fire, thinking herself perhaps close to the Sun God now, closer than his cold, ashen shrine. However, as they trace the lines down, they note the discarded figures by the lip. Sky eyes widen in shock and her body, sluggish just moments before, leaps into action, her pale legs carrying her swiftly over toward the sickly looking stallion and his equally as strange look pet, a canine that made Onni quite nervous. Her duty was to heal the sick, however, and that would not change just because of a strange companion she did not recognize entirely. She slows as she gets close, nostrils flaring in alarm of the dog, but finding that the mass of black fur does not appear threatening. Nudging the leg of the young stallion gently, the healer gets a tiny bit closer.

"Are you alright?" Onni asks, her voice small and calm, like the sound of a fresh spring breeze.

She hoped that he was.

[ ooc; x.o sorry for the wait and general crappiness of this post. Will get better. ]
""

The healer thinks little as her name slips off the lips of the stranger, and she even smiles from her worry to see that he is capable of speaking despite being passed out beside a massive pit of fire. The tobiano stands more weary of the dog, but the bitch gives her no trouble, so the concern crossing the features of the girl must have transcended species. The black dog goes back toward the boy, tossed and lost on the brim of the sulfurous pit, and Onni looks with worried eyes at him, until she begins to blink.

She blinks to herself, looking at the boy with a cocked ear, her soft voice drudged up from the depths of her chest as she scours his face for any details she recognizes. "I'm sorry, but I do not remember meeting you," her brows knit, worried that she has forgotten this soul and left him in the shadows of her mind far from her reach. He continues to speak of her but much to the painted mare's surprise, it is not of the Throat nor her healing deeds of Helovia. It is the Islands. Her eyes widen even farther, a pale blue, stretching on into expanses that mimic the large sky, though it would take a miracle for them to encompass as wide a territory on her pale face.

Memories of old come flooding back into her mind, fond and sad, light and terribly heavy. Her chest takes a twirl around, feeling her gut shift with the raw emotion that Isilme brought to her, especially when Onni was caught unaware. Suddenly, the tobiano remembers that she had left Lyhty behind in the Throat with her evaporation into air. The absence of his small body was missed now more than ever, as she resists the urge to lurch forward and collapse on the dirt in front of the boy. Today had been far too difficult to be thinking of all she had lost in Isilme.

Everything she had lost that she would never see again.

My father spoke of you. The mare takes a moment to look at him, his black coloring, the curled mass of his hair. It did not bring about any connections. Perhaps, her mind was just unwilling to chase all of the ghosts which crawled around in her mind, clutching at her heart now that she remembered them. Which face was the one that had given rise to this boy? Who was he? Had she known him well? Had she treated him fairly? Did he die? If so, was it honorable? Closing her eyes for a moment, Onni nods dumbly in agreement. "I seem to be lacking courage most days," she says with a quiet voice. "Though, I am glad some remember it still." For she did not.

He approaches her, and despite Onni's better judgment that he is ill, though he affirms he is not, she does not flee. The mare stands firm, but maybe his enticement of the past was what kept her planted. He had spoken of the Islands, had recognized her easily, so surely he cannot be an evil spirit. As he gives her a name, she has to resist the urge to introduce herself, but there is no need. Knox knows her already, though she was just beginning to know him. "Have you been ill?" her light voice open and honest, a genuine curiosity. Without knowing this strange boy past a name, Onni finds herself worrying about his well being.
""

Eyes that were blurry stared back at Onni, as though the fever was gripping about his heart. An ear flicks back uncertainly on the shaman's head as he lurches forward, uneven steps with knees that threatened to yield below him. As the mass of black curls swings forward from behind, the tobiano almost reaches forward to catch the boy should he fall, but he remains standing, albeit on precariously weak limbs. Onni's pale eyes look down toward Manhattan, who seems more or less unconcerned by the healer's presence and has apt attention on her master, but there was one thing the shaman understood. Companions knew the minds of their dear friends, so if trouble was in the heart of this stallion, she would likely know.

Unfortunately, the healer had never been versed in the language of dogs.

The answer to her question comes in fits, and the mare finds herself taking a careful step forward, even as blue eyes glance up at her. Stunned, she pauses for a moment, one hoof lifted in the air a few inches, before setting her teeth and planting her leg. His small steps, encouraged heavily by the dog who stays by his side, decreases their separation. Perhaps the deranged attitude of the stallion should scare the healer away, but for some reason, the overwhelming need to ascertain his health is keeping her from drawing back in fear. Foolish, maybe, for the winged lady to draw so near to him; she has no idea who he is, yet he knows her name. This would be unsettling to many, but for Onni she is just glad that someone in this world would recall her when so many rely on her for strength that she borrows from the Sun. The Sun, who abandoned her just recently, yet, not abandoned, no. The warmth of the fire and light in her veins, the healer knows all to well he is guarding her still. A sense of security and courage guards her from the truth that this situation is unstable. This boy is unstable.

"Your father?" Onni asks as his first strong sentence dwindles into an uncertain string of words. She pauses, light sky eyes looking at his as a smile of encouragement takes over her features. He appears distraught, trying to communicate with her, and Onni knows well how difficult it can be to talk to strangers. Despite his oddities, the informality of his speech, and the strange gate and wavering figure, the shaman thinks he is nice. Perhaps, the only thing he needed was a guardian and a friend. Blind to his age, for the stallion is full grown, the healer sees herself viewing him as a lost child, a boy, in need of guidance and care. She is reminded oddly of herself, back before she had found her way into Isilme only to find her mother had vanished with the fall of the Cliffs. The painted girl had been lonely and seeking guidance. She had found it in Voltaic. Perhaps, Knox could find a mentor in her.

Roanne the Sentinel. The Sentinel was my father. The mare closes her eyes, revealing a peaceful yet muddied pale face which hides the toss of emotions she feels behind a well closed mask. The mare had known his father was from Isilme, yet the memory came rushing back to her senses at the mention of his name. The shapeshifter that had been in the mansion during the final days, attempting to save their home. Virva and Moth had accompanied her. Moth had been put out with the shifter's actions much like the Guardian had been. "He was kind," she says while opening her eyes too look at his face, noticing the silver mottling upon his neck for the first time, a white bridle. The bridle Roanne had been wearing.

"Knox," she says, her voice calm and patient. "Are you sure you are alright?" Noticing the swaggering gate of disorientation, Onni is reminded of Coris, who had been suffering from an infection and heavy fever. "I can heal you of your fever... I am gifted with the power of the light."
""

"I don't believe he keeps a book of debts," Onni says with a smile in return to Knox's firm denial of her aid. She will not force it upon him, but the worry does not erase from her face as he assures her that he is alright, or... will be. Maybe it is the stare she receives from the companion at his side that makes her continue to worry, or maybe her heart is grasping out to easily for another yet again. The painted mare was so willing to let others stay within her heart, resting easily in the warmth of her spirit. However, Onni has yet to realize that this approach is often seen as foolish and for good reason. Yet, for now, the innocence of the healer's soul is preserved, and her light eyes look at him openly. A child, yet unmistakenably grown.

A confused child, next, as Knox speaks once more. Her ear tilts back in question as he responds, but she doesn't realize to what at first. He turns quickly, eyes lashing in the light of the fire, but the mare does not retreat though something in her mind tells her to. The more unstable he becomes the more apparent it is to the shaman, yet the is something in his eyes that makes her stay his ground. What is it? The look of a heart reaching out through a fever? Would she feel guilty leaving him here when she knows he is ill? Truth be told, she is weary. Her heart had already been wrung heavily today, her spirit trounced upon. There was little that she should care about right now, but somehow, Knox becomes one of those things.

Onni, he is dangerous. This thought never crosses her mind. Instead, she is somewhat delighted despite being confused that her words had been taken well. It is not until after she smiles easily that she realizes what else she had said. He is kind, and he is glad you feel that way are statements born of the same thought, but not his - not Knox's. Her brow furrows more, but Onni knows that Roanne the Sentinel was a shapeshifter. She looks at the dog, black, much like all of the Sentinel's forms she had seen, but this is a female. Her lips tug down in a thougtful frown. His face seems open, as though he wants to share something, but then he rapidly turns away. Dangerous. Why does she not notice?

Even as his face warps into something unfamiliar, she is bustling about in her own head, blissfully unaware of the shift. It is not until his posture seems to mimic something close to fear that she glances up, her brows furrowed in worry once more. She comes to step beside him, standing with a good space between them. Onni, being more reserved, would not take it upon herself to be overly familiar when it comes to touch or physical closeness. "I don't understand, Knox," she says plainly, her voice calm but quiet. "You are not your father, yet you claim to know his thoughts."

A smile on her face as she draws up another lightening phrase, for the mood was turning sour rapidly and she wished that it hadn't. "Roanne hardly seemed to be as transparent as my own mother, so surely you cannot just assume his thoughts." She pauses again before turning to look at him directly, trying to inspire confidence in her with a bright look in her eyes. "Is he near? I know that he has many forms."
""