the Rift


shelter for the forlorn. [open]

Onni the Illuminant Posts: 194
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Mare :: Pegasus :: 15.2hh :: 8 Buff: SWIFT
Lyhty :: Diamond Firetail Finch :: Sing Boom Boom!
#1
 nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands.</style>
image by jason-samfield @ flickr.com</style>

A gale rushes upon the lava strewn floor of the Veins, swirling and folding upon itself until it begins to solidify. Sand colors hooves touch down gently followed by stark white legs, growing upward into a splatter of chocolate on clean linen. A face pale like a ghost forms last, blonde mane whipping across her forehead and tail lapping at her sides as the wind tears away from her, leaving one pegasus standing alone on the isle which glows with an ethereal blue, casting lights open her bleached knees and face. The night begins to pull upon the sky, tugging the sun closer to the horizon and stealing away its light. With a wretched sound crawling from her throat, Onni turns to view the area where she knew the Sun's shrine to lay.

Legs scramble unevenly to move her body, but her eyes find it quicker.

A pile of rubble lay with charcoal and ash, and in panic, the shaman rushes over, finding herself stopping short of it and staring. Her heart begins to quiver rapidly, looking side to side and seeing each of the other three shrines in disarray, breath staggering unevenly as her light sky eyes open widely. Just this season she had seen the great God of Fire and Light; he had comforted her. He had said she could return. Now, she was here, painstakingly guiding her figureless form toward the Isle to find the mortals seemingly abandoned. The crack in Onni's heart made by her mother tears open, feeling lost in the world for the first time in a very long while. "Where have you gone?" she calls out to the air, her voice shaky and her shoulders begin to quiver, front legs kneeling in the black charcoal ruin of the shrine.

The healer feels pitiful, reduced to scraping on the floor by the once great shrine of the Sun God, but she has no where to turn to. Having poisoned her tongue with hasty and hurtful words, Onni would not be able to face her mother again on this day. The tobiano knew that she was throwing blame as she pleased, and that her mother would never endanger their home so recklessly. In her heart, she had known it. The pain of fighting, even if it was to defend the very thing the gentle soul held dear, was something that pulled uneasily at her soul. She longed for the calm and wise words of the golden stallion to relieve this awful tension ripping her apart from the inside out. However, as the night of Birdsong began to approach, so did the chill that followed it. Onni felt not the warmth of sunlight, but the cold bitter loneliness of the dark night sky. She was alone.

Even the sun that rose this morning was saying its goodbyes, sinking below the horizon. Onni was quite certain in that moment that it would not rise the following day.
""

[ ooc; melodramatic onni is melodramatic. ]


onni
</style>
Ascended Helovian

Ophelia the Amaranthine Posts: 701
Outcast atk: 6.5 | def: 10.5 | dam: 7
Mare :: Hybrid :: 16.0 hh :: 6 Years HP: 77 | Buff: BULK
Tinek :: Royal Silver Dragon :: Frost Breath & Shock Breath Tamme
#2
I WELL I'VE LOST I ALL, I'M JUST A SILHOUETTE
A lifeless face that you'll soon forget


Ophelia vacillated between barely controlled rage and crippling depression over how her meeting with the God of the Sun had ended. She was sick to her stomach with anxiousness over how he left her, aching to know if something could be done to remedy the faith she had lost. A childhood love of the light and fire of her life was not an easy love to lose, and no matter how much she denied her pain, she would feel it forever. No amount of tears, yelling and isolation could cure this affliction; she would have to set everything right.

The thought that he would deny her again set a fear along her spine that she had never felt before, never once experienced. Fear was not an emotion that often made its way into her physiology, for her fight and flight responses to threats were so sequestered by her carefully cataloged and elegant records of her mind. Ophelia did not enjoy this sensation, and she knew that a second rejection would send her mind reeling and her heart crushed even more into a frozen, stagnant organ. Even for as damaged as she was, the tenderness and compassion bled from the fissures like oil of a broken engine, desperately clinging to her loved ones for support that she would never let them know she took.

Cloven hooves carried her up the familiar path, heat waves causing her to perspire. She felt a coil in her gut tightening inch by inch, and her tail swung wildly at her hocks in anxiousness. Tulip ears swiveled endlessly until she finally rested her strange, dual colored eyes on the most horrifying sight she could remember. The shades devouring her loved ones, her mother taking the life of Nyra, her sister falling on crooked legs, and now this. Ophelia scrambled up the rest of the path, slipping on loose debris, lips parted in shock.

The Sun God's shrine was broken, shadowed in ash and the others lay in ruins. She felt her heart sink into her hooves, staring with hopeless eyes until the presence of another sank in. Ophelia removed herself from her bubble, seeing a painted pegasus mare kneeling before the Sun God's shrine. Jealousy would be a normal emotion, but she felt nothing but sorrow. A frown folded her lips. This mare had not fallen out of his favor, and he had abandoned her as well. At least Ophelia had gotten a goodbye, cruel as it was.

Gently, the alabaster and crimson mare moved closer, dipping her gray muzzle to the painted mare's shoulder. She said nothing. What words could set this right? Instead, Ophelia moved close to the blackened stone of the Earth God and called Tinek down from the skies. The Silver dragon's crimson eyes took in the sight with worry, quickly asking Ophelia what was going on in a series of colors and indistinct pictures. She shook her head in response, taking a Sun Amulet from around Tinek's spines and placing it at the foot of the shrine. Often, Ophelia had brought the God of the Sun gifts, and she would continue to bring thoughtful items, even if he did not respond.

Ophelia returned to the painted mare and stood quietly at her side, lowering her neck once more and closing her strange colored eyes. The setting sun cast a golden shimmer on their coats, casting the world in darkness and shadow. Symbolic, perhaps. Was this the end then? Would he be silent forever? Though her duty here was finished, Ophelia could not leave the broken mare alone, so she remained as close to her side as she would allow, waiting patiently and quietly.


Image Credit: haiinee @ sxc.hu




Undertow has come to take me. Guided by the blazing sun. Look at everything around us. Look at everything we've done.
Please. Anyone. I don't think I can save myself. I'm drowning.


Please tag me in every response!

Aswane Posts: 12
Hidden Account
Filly :: Equine :: 15.1 hands :: Yearling
Tay
#3

Desert rose, dreamed I saw a desert rose, dress torn in ribbons and in bows

Aswane figures life has the undying ability to fly away from existence. It doesn’t fly away like a bird or a bug, no, but it flies without caution. It is a reckless beam from the northern sun, if it exists at all. The northern sun contains all life after life. It stores away the good souls, and it grows brighter and brighter each day. The child of earth is just that, a child of earth – a child of sun or water perhaps. None of that changes. She needs all of that to exist. The filly remembers her sister’s words about her brother. He is the boy that only believes in the heat of the sun. Even Aylin only believes the moon can spread good among the land. They are silly to believe in just one of the gods and in the end, they all made up Loorien.

They are all the same.

They are all divine.

Aswane, little as she is, respects them all the same. Their antique brains have felt the elements in all, and they are far more valuable than any selfish emotions born in the mortal lands. She knows their secrets because she believes in them. Her spirit is filled with their voices, and her body is enveloped in their land.

She blindly guides herself across the arcing rocks that reach across the swirling blue lava. Their heat causes shy sweat to start from under her spring hide, drenching her legs and flanks dark and moist. It is humid here and her eyes swim in drying sockets that observe through a twisting mirage of blue smoke. She blinks away the urge to cry and bites back a sob from the heat. Up ahead she spies with her one green eye the nearly glowing, ornate designs of shrines. The heat warps their figure, and she believes them to be intact until her little hooves grasp the torn earth below. They are ruins dancing before her sparkly eyes, cloaked in catastrophe, daring her to near. She inhales the scent of magic, feeling the sensation burn the walls of her nostrils. The flowerchild waits for a breeze to chill the growing heat. There is nothing. All units of the world are gone here and the vibe is empty but for sorrow.

Choke-like sobs are the only sound now aside from the tremendous wheeze and sputter of magma to lava. She can hear them through the hiss of ignited soil. Her ginger ears prick and the shrine decorated in ash is occupied. A painted, mocha mare with matching wings stands in the crevice of all this despair, her eyes are an azure sea and she rains out her torment. Deep in the dark red of her young soul, Aswane feels a string tug for the mare and she follows it moving her frail legs with timid steps. As much as she doesn’t want to disturb her, she wants to comfort her. As the filly rounds the wall of rock, she freezes, finding a pearly figure of innocence, draped in crimson. She is finding herself next to the saddened Pegasus, sharing the same woe in her bicolored eyes. They both mourn into the temple, tears pattering to the unlit ash. Aswane drops her head, pale forelock falling into her own eyes as she shares a moment with tear.

She didn’t cry for the gods, for the two mares, for the torn ruins, or for the heat playing tricks with thirst. Aswane cries for the only thing she’s never cried for. Her body sheds one drop of crystal before she erupts into a violent quake of soul-wrenching sobs. The filly’s choking wails stretch into the shrine, bouncing into ear range of the quietly mourning mares. She feels wet seep out of her muzzle and pour down her chin. Her sides heave ungraciously as her cry stretches throughout the Veins. The flowerchild feels selfish guilt pile up in her throat and she is finally able to stop. Her eyes rim red. She is a mess and her green eye finds the eyes of Onni and Ophelia.

She slouches in one reserved tuck, pleading they’ll wish her away, take one of those heavy hooves and crash them down on her skull, punish her for the mistake her parents made.

aswane



God of the Spark Posts: 111
Helovian Ancient
Stallion :: Hybrid :: 15.3hh :: Ageless
Admin
#4

The GOD of the SPARK

On a long enough timeline, the survival rate of everyone drops to zero



The God of the Spark heard so much crying, and he could not decide whether to run for sanity or dive in to watch the female drama unfold. Well, he was in such a glorious mood since the destruction of the veins, he decided to grace the weeping mortals with his presence and impart on them a very important bit of knowledge: tears are useless. From behind a massive stone, the God of Time made his appearance known, his compact, charcoal and white figure smaller than the long legged white unicorn. Wait, no. Hybrid. Odd.

Now he knew the white one; she was the mare who had pissed off his fiery brother, and he nearly snorted out loud in amusement. Did she really think that bringing small items and trinkets would win back his affections? That his tempestuous brother could be so easily swayed after being so scorned? The Sun God should have known better than to expect the mortals not to disappoint him, though his "gift" was more of a curse, he had to admit.

A painted mare, from the same herd that his brother watched over, knelt, aching over the Sun God's loss as well. How did his brother wind up earning the affections of so many damned mares? The third weepy chestnut was not a mare he recognized, and he brushed her off with a sweep of his electric blue eyes, thinking on why they were so sad. Sympathy was only truly rewarded to the two who had not begged here before: the paint and the chestnut. The spotted mare had come before seeking guidance, and the other... he did not know. The God of Time was stuck in time itself, he supposed, when the other had been known.

The night sky shimmered above, and he grunted. "Tears will not fix broken stone," he muttered grumpily. "The Sun God did not die, but your cries and pleas and begging for magic and powers will not be listened to anymore. Well, I suppose unless one of us cares enough to listen. Obviously my fiery brother has more important things to do..."



CREDITS: Tamme & Boom

Onni the Illuminant Posts: 194
Hidden Account
Mare :: Pegasus :: 15.2hh :: 8 Buff: SWIFT
Lyhty :: Diamond Firetail Finch :: Sing Boom Boom!
#5
 nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands.</style>
image by jason-samfield @ flickr.com</style>

The gentle brush of a muzzle across the shaman's shoulder bring a wracking breath to wheeze from her chest and she dips her head lower, knees covered in the ash of the fire which had ruined the shrine she had visited before. Her sky blue eyes close tightly, feeling her own pale pink muzzle brush across the soft, crude surface of the Sun God's monument, the former glory hidden behind the smudges of ash and the sensation of abandonment. Her ears flicker to hear the breath of the other, searching from the scent of fire to capture the mist of a female, and it is all the healer can do to open one pale eye to glance upward from the place where her body is collapsed. The effort of her burden is one that she does not want to carry alone.

Her movements are graceful as she deposits what looks like shiny trinkets on the ruins, and Onni becomes curious as to who she is. From the blurring vision of her single eye, the shaman remembers the white of her coat, though she has no idea from where. The sunlight gleams too brightly from behind her figure, causing the tobiano to shut them once more, until a heavy sigh rolls from her chest, as the lady makes her way to stand by her side once more. The shaman is almost bitter that she looks so helpless that a stranger does not have the heart to leave her alone in the wake of this destruction. The red tipped fringe of a mane comes into her vision as Onni opens a shy eye once more, remembering vaguely a filly who had lived in the Throat with such coloring. Perhaps this was her, but the healer had never spoken to the girl before.

Quite by surprise, Onni hears a horrible sob and lifts her damp face to view a chestnut filly, green eyes worn with tears as well. Wide blue eyes view her with interest, though it is still not enough to cause her drooping ears to rise. However, the sleek black figure approaching behind the girl catches the healer's attention immediately. The sun had finally sunk below the horizon, and it seems just as symbollicaly, the approach of a night colored stallion had come. His words are dipped with what the shaman would think malice, but they are enough against her own thoughts to make her rise from dirtied knees and turn to face him with a tear-streaked face also muddied with ash. "I did not come for magic or power," the soft-spoken mare says with a heavy heart, her eyes dropping from the electric eyes of the stranger to his hooves.

"I seek aid for the fate of another," her voice nearly cracks, pushing away the loss of the Sun, knowing that he is still alive yet wishes not to answer her calls. "Mauja the Frostheart is trapped in another Helovia! He must be freed!" The shaman's body quivers from tired energy as she bellows at this strange brother of her beloved deity, sky eyes big and hopeful as she looks upon his white streaked face. "Surely, you are aware of his loss from this world and wish to return him?" Her head dips as she realizes that she is partially yelling at a deity, crown slipping into a submissive pose, not wishing to see him angered. The God of the Sun would deal with her cheeky behavior, but this other had no reason to.

"I cannot help him myself, or I would not have come."
""


onni
</style>
Ascended Helovian

Ophelia the Amaranthine Posts: 701
Outcast atk: 6.5 | def: 10.5 | dam: 7
Mare :: Hybrid :: 16.0 hh :: 6 Years HP: 77 | Buff: BULK
Tinek :: Royal Silver Dragon :: Frost Breath & Shock Breath Tamme
#6
I HAVE BURNED MY TOMORROWS, AND I STAND INSIDE TODAY
At the edge of the future, and my dreams all fade away


At the same moment the painted mare lifted her head and opened clear blue eyes, Ophelia turned her gaze over her shoulder, seeing the chestnut mare who joined them with a sob. The alabaster mare had shed too many tears over the Sun God, and her heart was hardened against such emotion. Perhaps, only a few weeks earlier, she would have felt the same heartache, but not now. Not after how the Sun God had abandoned her, hating her for realizing that his gift was a curse. Ophelia had no words to comfort the equine, as she had barely reconciled her own hate. She was not in a place to offer advice, but perhaps her presence would be enough.

Ophelia realized then that she recognized the painted mare from the Dragon's Throat. Vaguely the term "shaman" seemed to apply, but she has never met the sky-eyed pegasus before - only watched from afar. The chestnut equine was entirely foreign to her eyes, but no longer would she be forgotten. Nothing that passed before Ophelia's eyes was ever lost; forever, they lived in her mind. She nodded to the weeping chestnut, though her expression remained mildly sympathetic; Ophelia was not in an emotional state to allow the tender shell around her heart to crack.

What surprised her then was the presence of a god, and not one she had seen before. A black and white swirling face on a smaller, muscular figure moved from behind the broken monuments of stone, and she narrowed her dual colored gaze curiously. The words that moved from his mouth and the joy of his expression was rude and brusque, and the white mare stiffened. His final dig was at her; the Sun God was not here because he promised to never meet her ever again. His fiery brother was avoiding her in his own selfish fit of ancient immaturity. Ophelia clenched her jaws, ears tilting to the side as she lifted her neck, defensive.

When the painted mare rose at her side, she angled herself slightly in an offensive position, willing to protect the pegasus should this strange god prove to be more of a terror than he already was in words. Ophelia listened to her pleas until the mention of Mauja. Her white brows furrowed over dual colored eyes, recalling memories that were barely her own. The spotted stallion who had once complained that her body would be a nuisance to move if she died had met her in the cave, needed reality and comfort. Mauja had been stuck in a dimension that she had only reached in her dreams, and Ophelia had vowed to help him; apparently the paint had done so as well.

Normal mares might, perhaps, feel jealousy, but not Ophelia. She had no claim on the Frostheart, no ties to his emotions. When in her dreams, the king had been pleasant, open, and she had desperately wanted to comfort him. Who was he now? Was he the same king of hate as before? The one who was only stopped from murder on threat of death? Or was he the open, kind hearted soul who was as conflicted as he appeared in her dreams. Either way, she had made a promise, and she turned her gaze back to the strange god.

"I too promised Mauja that I would do all in my power to free him from the dreamworld," she murmured quietly, voice like chimes. "If you have a task that need be done for his return, I will do so without complaint or comment." Ophelia offered a kind and sad smiled that barely reached her eyes to the painted mare, pleased that she was not the only one who was willing to move farther than comfort to help others. Instantly, Phi found that she had much in common with the winged one's open and loving heart, and she was not too broken to shy away from such a beautiful soul.

The chestnut was not forgotten, and Ophelia turned her head, nodded in effort for her to move closer. She was just as much a part of this now as herself and the pegasus. She had wandered beyond comfort to be ignored by gods, one of whom was standing here, waiting to be questioned.



Image Credit: haiinee @ sxc.hu




Undertow has come to take me. Guided by the blazing sun. Look at everything around us. Look at everything we've done.
Please. Anyone. I don't think I can save myself. I'm drowning.


Please tag me in every response!

Aswane Posts: 12
Hidden Account
Filly :: Equine :: 15.1 hands :: Yearling
Tay
#7

Desert rose, dreamed I saw a desert rose, dress torn in ribbons and in bows

Under clinched eyes Aswane sees the night gleam a foul burgundy. The silver bay filly finds air tight in her weak chest, and releases as her eyes open, good green eye finding the two mares. She is still in speaking range of them, but the distance soon reaches an arm to awkward as the gale sweeps it up into their mournful expressions. She wants them to know that they are not alone in this devastation. Perhaps it is simply fate that somehow the flowerchild stumbled upon such a sacred calamity. Perhaps this is a place of mourn. Th sadness she feels seems to radiate from the glowing gloom of hot, blue lava that seers and sizzles under the bridge-arc of cracked earth.

Aswane shivers in her sweaty hairs, spasms resulting along the curve of her yearling spine. Something is different in the way she looks at them. Ever since her eyes reopened, tearless, she can measure them with her own minimal judgement, not blurred with the opinions of melancholy. The girl finds love for them, but she doesn't feel they understand true sadness. Rejection is what Aswane feels, cloaked in darkness under the new moon, watching the world grow purple, blue, then black. There is nobody to guide her, tell her what to do in this world. Not that she needs it, but knowing that someone was there to keep the good and bad a difference in her mental gates would have been something she'd be thankful for. She'd been opening those mental gates to all kinds of trouble lately, and it would take more than a friend to keep them closed. Her parents, bless them, were fighting to save one over the other. She lies under the blanket of stars that threaten to fall into her soul and scratch felony in her heart without guidance, without a breath of love. Aylin had love. But Aylin lost it.

Aswane knew she meant well - at least she hoped she did.

Her memories fall into clarity as she is brought back to reality. Her heart hurts, and what she sees presses into her. She sees the beautiful white and red lady glance back to recognize something that was in Aswane's blind spot. He has a dark, dutiful aura about him, approaching with such balanced head carriage, and perfect markings. The filly feels suddenly small as his electric eyes send nervous shocks down her spine. She remembers the insane figure of madness she'd encountered in the tall treed forest, but he looks less mad and more annoyed. She is all at once pleased by the electric annoyance, however shrinking back a step, sensing some kind of divine entity within him.

The girls look up at him, covered in messy sadness. The paint Pegasus can't help a stream of angst that flows from her mouth, and the gray horned one speaks with a much cooler, but refreshing tone about the man frozen in time. She wishes she had a request for the beautiful being, but nothing resonates in her throat.

She can't think of a reason why, but her eyes glance up again to the nodding acceptance of the pristine, crimson-tipped mare. Her bicolored eyes soft with sweetness, and the filly melts in the kindness. It is such subtle kindness that the bay filly is drawn in by instinct, stepping closer into the climactic moment with the God. She looks at him with dual colored eyes and takes a breath of bravery, preparing her small voice.
"Sir, I was only weeping for those who have worse luck than I."

She remembers what she believes her parents to look like. She remembers what she believes Cyrus to look like - but all she really sees is Aylin. And she feels more water form like whelps in her eyes.

"I don't want any magic. I just want my parents back," a tear rolls off the edge of her eyelash.

aswane



God of the Spark Posts: 111
Helovian Ancient
Stallion :: Hybrid :: 15.3hh :: Ageless
Admin
#8

The GOD of the SPARK

On a long enough timeline, the survival rate of everyone drops to zero



The Time God was entirely amused that two mares managed to meet him at the same time, wondering about the same stallion whom he had launched into an array of alternate dimensions. Fate and karma were two entities all of their own, and they had an incredibly ironic sense of humor. At least the ones who gathered here were not beggars, in a sense. Their intents were not selfish, which was refreshing. Except, perhaps, the equine. How the hell was he supposed to find her parents? What if they were dead? Did she want their corpses to be dug up? Did she want their bones on a plate?

"Honorable, your intentions, but late," he muttered. "Mauja has been kindly and roughly spit back out of the mirror in the Aurora Basin. He is no longer stuck in....time," he replied, looking at the paint and the hybrid.

The tears. All the damn tears. "I do not know who your parents are or what they look like. Give me a name and a description and I can give you a location or a date of death. Perhaps you have some extended family remaining." The way he spoke those words were with irritation and curtness, but the fact that he was taking a request at all was rather unique for the Time God.



CREDITS: Tamme & Boom

Onni the Illuminant Posts: 194
Hidden Account
Mare :: Pegasus :: 15.2hh :: 8 Buff: SWIFT
Lyhty :: Diamond Firetail Finch :: Sing Boom Boom!
#9
 nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands.</style>
image by jason-samfield @ flickr.com</style>

The tobiano did not pay any heed to the weight of heavy mismatched eyes on her frame as she spoke of Mauja. Whether or not the white mare had special ties to him, Onni had given him her word that she would see him freed - or at least attempt to negotiate with the Gods. Jealousy was a foreign concept to the pale faced shaman, for romance was as well. What did it mean to be in love? In her heart, she had felt a pulse that many would describe as love, but with the sudden absence of Moth, the pulse had disappeared. The gust of wind through the chambers of her heart had come and gone, and the healer had written it off as the pleasant ache of seeing a friend healed well and set free.

What was love? The healer did not know past family and friendship.
Unlike the lady of white and crimson, she had never been blessed and cursed by the arrow of Cupid.

Her pale eyes, like the pale skies of spring, look at the newly arrived black stallion with fresh tears staining her cheeks, cutting paths through the muck and grime and soot that had found its home in a messy array on her usually pristine, calm face. Her brows were knit with heavy tension, looking at him with hopeful yet distraught eyes. The words of Ophelia are almost entirely missed, but she turns her head in surprise when she hears the unicorn has, as well, met with Mauja. This means that the shaman has not completely lost her mind, and also that the Frostheart is not as alone as he believes. Just this simply, kind gesture brings a calm smile to her lips, one that almost covers the chasm carved through her chest by her disloyalty and anger toward her beloved mother. It almost covers the abandonment of the sun in her time of need.

Onni was just being selfish, after all, and she did not like this ugly side of herself. She straightens her shoulders, wings ruffling as another tear slides past her lids unbidden. She turns a brave face back to the stocky looking brute, a deity the likes I have never seen. At the words which fall from his lips, the shaman's ears perk forward, and she looks at him with a smile. "He is not alone anymore?" her voice like a breath into the air, before looking down at her hooves. "I am so very glad." Loneliness was crippling.

Her heart nearly tears in two at the words of the younger filly, who speaks next. Her eyes widen in shock as she mentions having lost her parents. Onni had been much the same, in her youth. Zodiac had disappeared from the Cliffs not long after her birth, and the tobiano had been separated from her mother during the cataclysm. What she would not have given to be back at the sturdy side of the chocolate bay mare, never being given kind words but just a determined, strong stare from dark blue eyes? There was no price too high, and by the time she had found her way back to Isilme, her mother had vanished. It was only by some fluke of the universe they were allowed to meet once again in the haven of Helovia, after so much had been broken.

Onni's ears flick to hear the offer of the Time God. His words are rough, almost irritated, but there was a gentle message behind it. Still, the shaman is slightly annoyed with his gruff approach to handling the gentle heart of a filly, and her eyes narrow slightly. "Not everything needs the closure of finality," the mare says, her voice light but strong, looking back toward the girl with a gentle face. "The ties of blood run deep, but family can be any who you let into your heart." The shaman smiles peacefully, though her face is dirtied with grime and salty tears. "You may meet your parents again one day, yet in each day there is a chance to meet the family you never considered. Love comes in many forms... you just have to be willing to see it when it crosses your path."

"Wouldn't you rather greet your parents with a smile than a face forlorn?"
""


onni
</style>


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