It was nothing extraordinary for Couth to be more active at night than she was during the daytime, especially when the moon was full. As the Goddess of the Moon was her deity, Couth felt herself more able to speak with the Goddess on nights when the moon's face was full, opalescent and round. She did not feel bound to the Dark Forest, not when she was a creature of the sky who could dance in the air which shimmered with moonlight. When the sun set she left the forest for a night-trip toward the North, toward the tall shape of a mountain which reached high into the sky, its peak veiled by shrouds of mist. The air would be thinner, she knew, and it would be more difficult to fly- but she was more than capable of flying at great altitudes.
She rose through the mist which surrounded her. It was completely silent at such a high level above the ground where there was nothing for her to hear but the sound of her own wingbeats. She could not tell exactly how high she was above the ground, for it had disappeared below her in the mist. She was careful, making sure to watch out for ledges and cliffs which could suddenly appear should the mountain bend in a certain way- being new to the area, she had no idea exactly how crooked the mountain was, and thus she was cautious not to fly too quickly.
Her breath was nearly stolen away when she rose above the mist and saw the flat expanse of field, dappled with little flowers. It looked as though it wasn't a part of the planet at all but a slice of ground floating in the heavens. She spiraled downwards and landed at a canter before she flared her wings and slowed to a halt. Alone and bathed in the moonlight, she faced the bright, illuminating moon and bowed low, murmuring a few quiet words in prayer before she rose, shook out her wings and folded them to her sides. Here she felt calm, but almost as though some strange passion stirred within her as she basked in the moon's light. A ticklish sensation grew along her spine and she lowered her head with a muted squeal and bucked, before she dove into a series of kicks and thrashes, whipping her ice-laced mane and snapping one hind foot out after the other, pawing at the air with her front hooves.
There was no music, but nevertheless, Couth danced and whirled, featherlight, with only the moon as her partner.
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| Deceased |
| Stallion :: Equine :: 17hh :: 16 |
| Whit |
The stallions knew of moonlight.
Born to lands where only moonlight shone, the celestial body that rested so comfortably in the sky with its pearlescent glow and patchy face was soothing to the brothers. Though their physical appearances barely hinted to such things; with eyes the shade of the sun and legs dipped in crimson, only their blazes which haphazardly streaked across their faces suggested a moonly colouration. Otherwise their hides were a deep, inky black, much like their sisters, who lived under the darkness of moon’s night time too.
It was what hid beneath the surface of the steeds that made them extraordinary. Madyrn, named for shadow, tended to behave more like fire, being a bit too brash and destructive sometimes, where his brother, Maskan, named for fire, was usually the collected one who behaved much like his sister, Mirage. Both steeds were well practised at guarding their emotions, though Madyrn’s were usually so volatile it was more difficult for him than the others. Maskan looked at the world through cool indifference, accepted things as they came to him and simply letting events unfold before him. They were the embodiment of their parents; together they were a perfectly tuned instrument, separated they were nothing.
It made sense then that the brothers would eat together on a night such as this. The Foothills was a comfortable realm to be sure, but the brothers did enjoy to have their charred coats bathed in moonlight. Their eyes, which had seen some things a regular individual might never truthfully claim to see, continually scanned the surrounds; always on guard, the brothers feared nothing that might come their way – still, that was no reason to be taken by surprise.
Wingbeats caused a synchronised raising of their chiselled crowns, ears pressed forward and curiosity evident upon their ivory-streaked facades. Their gaze softened from the sharp critical stare it naturally took up as they recognised this crème belle as one of the Qian, and with wraith-like silence their forms slunk back into the shadows. They were not socialites, more like silent protectors who sometimes enjoyed stirring a pot of trouble every now and then. But when it appeared that the femme was alone in her graceful and elegant display of acrobatics, the stallions could not help but be compelled forth to join her.
It was odd to see such co-ordination of limbs and muscle weave their bulky forms across the field to where the pale maiden danced, but the brothers danced as if they were fire and shadow. Madyrn, with his flamed forelegs in the air, represented the hot substance, while Maskan performed an agile move beside him, beneath him, around him. They snaked their way around Couth, pausing only to dip their handsome faces in recognition to her, before slapping on their rogue grins and continuing on with the silent beat that the Pegasus so beautifully began.
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Soft footfalls in tandem with her own alerted the mare to the presence of another equine- and had she only been listening, she would not have been able to tell that there was more than one horse approaching, as the brothers moved step by step, each hoof touching the ground in a synchronized motion. She recognized them and felt a dark, secret flare of pleasure through her chest and abdomen; she had noticed them at the meeting and had had her eyes on them. While nearly identical, she had wondered exactly how alike they were, if they were both stony guardians or if they possessed spirits which differed. Nevertheless, they moved together perfectly, and Couth felt herself all the more drawn to both studs.
She arched her neck and tossed her mane as they approached, obviously driven to join in the dance in the light of the moon. Now that she was joined by the two studs, she felt obliged to make herself look all the more radiant and beautiful; she wanted to impress the studs with her catlike agility and grace, to draw them into her web. Simply put, Couth was Moondrunk; and what a beautiful way to feel, oblivious to everything else except for the need to dance and the glint of moonlight on the silky black hides of her two dance partners...
It was only when they began to move in separate patterns that she began to see individual characters emerge from the pair. The one whose forelegs were wrapped in flames of red- Madyrn, she recalled- reared and struck out, a show of passion and power, of strength and grace. His brother, Maskan, however, wheeled and swerved, twirling and weaving like a cloud of smoke. Together, without speaking a word, Couth understood who they were at heart, simply by their dance- they were flame and smoke, the essence of fire and beauty, power and grace. And they were there with her, dancing on either side of her as she whirled, reared, leapt and weaved; they moved together, the three, bound by some choreography that had been threaded into their bloodlines long ago.
Between the two dark steeds she pivoted, twirled, bowed and reached into the sky, watching each stud and catching a glimpse of their bright, sun-coloured eyes whenever she could. When they came close enough the wraith opened her dragon-like wings so that they arched high above her, but she lowered them just as both brothers passed by her flanks, trailing the tip of her wings along each spine; she shuddered as she felt the warmth rising from each stallion. Still matching step for step, she threw her head back to gaze at the moon and, with a soft exhale, closed her eyes and simply danced.
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| Deceased |
| Stallion :: Equine :: 17hh :: 16 |
| Whit |
It was as if their very heartbeats had been infected with the pulse of the dance, possessed that they were as they so naturally mingled with this maiden. With ease the brothers could see why Mirage had been drawn to her, why she belonged so obviously with the Qian – with them. The winged femme seemed to behave in a manner that suggested they were connected by something that ran deeper than blood – suffice it to say, the boys were attracted to her and her addictive display of athletics.
The trio danced now, one a shadow of the others, one a body of flame, one the light that flame cast – light that could not exist without shadows to bounce off, or fire to start it. Though they had been complete before as just brothers, their circle had widened a fraction, and smoothly welcomed the creamy Couth into their midst. It was natural for them to accept one who saw the world the way they did so swiftly, very few did meet their standard, for they were raised amongst very strong individuals, and were very strong individuals themselves, few others meant more than a fleeting meeting to them. But they were in Helovia now, and had committed themselves to the Qian, to their sister and her cause – as had this mare.
They weaved and darted, ducked, bucked and sprung into the air – alone either one of them would have looked silly, stupid, but because they were together, not only as brothers, but with this mare also, their actions seemed to hold a deeper meaning. They felt the waves of moonlight invade their flesh and mind, they let it wash through them with reckless abandon, the stallions trusted the Goddess of the Moon, for she had not led them astray in their life yet. This evening, she had led this gracious mare to them, who were they to question her motives?
The dance was vigorous, and the stallions were fit, healthy and strong warriors. Though their moves may not have been well-practised or refined, they were still co-ordinated and held some primitive structure and purpose, they danced usually in spar, trying to see who could overpower the other one sooner. Inevitably they were too evenly matched, each knowing the others moves and habits far too well, that they were forced to retire after many hours of neither one rising as victor. But it was a clear indication of how well they might have worked together in battle, this dance, for their actions complemented the others, each giving just enough to easily divert the attention to the more graceful move, or the slightly harder exercise. In battle this could be translated as distraction techniques to allow the other to land a more powerful attack, or to escape from a potentially deadly strike. With everything they did, there were undercurrents of warfare.
But even warriors grew tired, and the steeds did not feel like collapsing in an exhausted heap tonight. Thick mane and tails were slashed against their napes, flanks and hocks, and the stallions came to a standstill, their positions now on either side of the Pegasus, their final move a smooth bow to the femme, almost as if they were presenting her to a cheering audience upon a stage framed by moonlit curtains. They felt her wings upon their hides as they rose, and the brothers smiled at the action, revelling in the shivers her touch caused within them. Sweat had wet their hides, under the pale light a sheen could be seen on their otherwise midnight pelts.
Madyrn, always the one unable to sit still for long, reached out a crimson foreleg and began pawing at the earth, despite the fatigue that slowed him down, he was eager for more action. Maskan held a smile upon his lips as he watched his brother, but then both sets of sunlit eyes were upon the mare, Couth. “You dance well.” Maskan’s voice spoke first. “The moonlight is kind to your physique.” Madyrn’s rumbly tones added to the initial compliment. Both steeds now crept closer to her, each hoping to rub his muzzle against opposite shoulders, their whiskers tickling the joint that attached her wings to the rest of her bodice. They liked her, very much indeed.
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While the creme mare had been prepared to perform her feats as a soloist, she felt all the more enthused to be dancing between the two stallions, especially when they knew the steps just as well as she did. Each move they made complemented the way the other moved and the way Couth moved, and she was attentive to watch and fit her movements in with their, at times matching one of the proud brothers before moving in a contrasting motion. The rhythm created by their footfalls was steady, accented only by the footfalls of one who landed from a magnificent leap. Had Couth been by herself, she might have taken to the sky, but when she was accompanied by these earth-bound steeds she felt no need to rise above them. She wanted to dance with them, to feel the air vibrate with warmth as they moved and twisted together, to feel the earth as it sang beneath their hooves.
Her soul begged for them to dance forever but her body was mortal and, while she was trained to endure long bouts of strain and physical activity, the dance came to a natural cadence eventually, with all three shining brightly in the moonlight, and soft puffs of breath hanging like mist on the air. Steam rose from their flanks, indicative of the exercise they had just endured. The studs had bowed to her, but Couth would not stand and accept praise as a soloist might- instead, she flared her wings and lowered her head to each of the stallions, grateful that they had chosen to accompany her.
Like Madyrn, Couth was still brimming with exhilaration, and would have just as easily been swept back into another tarantella if he had invited her. At their compliments, Couth tucked her neck and struck out with one hind foot in a coltish way. "As do mae partners," Couth answered Maskan with a rumbling note of pride. Who would have known that Mirage's brothers would have been such exceptional dance partners? Both studs drew closer and she closed the space too, wanting to feel the warmth of their hides against hers. In the presence of the two tall, muscular studs, she felt protected, safe, but dangerous too- they filled her with energy which gave her the fire of life. She felt the impulse to flee, to fight and buck and whirl, not against them but with them. She sensed the warrior spirit within them- particularly within Madyrn, and it made a fire within her soul smolder and burn. It was the fiery stud who complimented her looks and in return she reached out to him first, to touch her muzzle to his warm shoulder. Her touch was tentative at first, but she quickly felt reassured that she needn't be kittenish around these two; she felt at home in their company. She laughed quietly and rubbed her cheek against Madyrn's neck before she reached toward Maskan, combing her teeth through the thick mane just above his withers. Her voice was soft and dark. "It flatters two dark knights such as yewrselves as well. Who wouldae thought," She said, a smile teasing her lips. Her eyes moved back to Madyrn. "If'n I could, I would split maeself in two, to dance with each of ye. But I know if I did, I would be jealous of my other half."
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| Deceased |
| Stallion :: Equine :: 17hh :: 16 |
| Whit |
07-18-2012, 08:54 PM
(This post was last modified: 07-18-2012, 08:56 PM by Madyrn Maskan.)
Thoughts of a similar tune were humming through their minds; that of admiration for the mare between them, and growing affections, whose speedy increase in strength could be attributed to the fact that the steeds knew their sister had selected this mare herself to join the Qian. Despite the workout their muscles had performed, Madyrn at least could not deny the heat that swelled about his loins as the maiden returned his gesture, though he was able to merely allow the images of such thoughts to roll about his own head without hinting outwardly as to their existence. Maskan felt similar within himself, but upon being able to read his brother even when he held a blank mask upon his visage, he soon stomped out those urges – the brothers enjoyed the same things, it was true, but they were civil when it came to matters as delicate as mares. Co-leads of many a small herd, they only chose those who understood the way they worked, and who were willing to work with them. It was remarkable how even without discussion the brothers were able to tell whom the other would choose; Maskan was sure that given the opportunity, Madyrn would not hesitate upon this rare gem of a creature.
Maskan accepted her caress of his dreadlocked mane with a kind nudge, his rich eyes holding a softer, brotherly gaze as he considered her almost immediately a sister. He enjoyed her words, as well as her manner of speaking, and replied in his own deep, accented voice. “We are fortunate to have found one capable of weaving a step as fine as yourself. Few are able to keep time with our rhythm.” The shadowy brother threw a glance to his fiery double, and they each knew what the other was thinking. Matching smiles curved their lips, they were subtle hints as to the feelings the stallions felt. Maskan was more adept at keeping his temper within, Madyrn always the unintentionally more expressive of the two. He could not help that his father’s demeanour expressed itself more freely in him, where their mother’s seemed to pool more in his brother. It mattered little – this was why the brothers were rarely apart, for like their parents, they balanced each other out.
“We know many other dances,” The gravelly voice of Madyrn uttered, his expression playfully suggestive. Tones then gained a taunting edge, however, as he jested with his sibling; “Though I’m told I am the preferred partner whenever a couples dance is needed.” A deep and mirthful laughter rumbled its way through his chest, and Maskan responded by simply shaking his head quietly; after all, the most frustrating thing to Madyrn was getting little to no response at all. Indeed, it caused the steed’s laughter to quieten down sooner than if his brother had given him any more of a response, but he was not annoyed, endorphins ran too wildly through him from their exercise.
“Jealousy is a waste of emotion.” Maskan cut through the small moment of silence now, having thought over the words the belle had spoken just before. In truth, Maskan believed that a lot of emotions were a waste of energy and time, which was why their family, for the most part, were subtle in their display of inner feelings. “Mmm.” A low grumble, almost a growl came from Madyrn, but it was in agreement to his sibling’s words. “There are certainly better ways to expend one’s excess energy.” If one thought Madyrn’s mind was always on his nether regions, they wouldn’t be too far off. The brute was a stallion, after all, and even in the trying times of a drought, he still had certain needs, and he liked to know just how far he could push a situation – heck, he wanted to push it as far as it could go. A soft snort rolled forth from the muzzle of Maskan then, interrupting the groove of Madyrn’s thoughts and resettling the crimson legged steed into a quieter demeanour.
“Where did one such as yourself, learn to orchestrate her body like that, Couth?” Though it was Maskan who asked, both brothers were keenly interested, their eyes and ears roving her form for any replies she may or may not bestow upon them.
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It was with a warmth and kindness that Maskan spoke to her, his dulcet tones soft and gentle, relaxed. There was a mildness about his nature which made him seem noble but humble, the same way he danced with swift, fluid movements. While he matched Madyrn for size and strength, he did not use his formidable power to emphasize his dance; his brawn was obvious even though he moved and spoke like a gentle cloud of smoke on the air. There was a grace about him both in his movements and his manners of speaking that made him seem almost domesticated, though she knew him not to be some green-broke colt but rather a philosopher, a gentleman. His strength and physical brawn were tempered by the strength of both his mind and his character. He was stable and self-assured, and obviously felt no need to compete with his brother whose thoughts practically screamed into Couth's ears.
But she did not condemn him for it; as much as she admired Maskan for the calm way he acted, she was set on fire by each touch Madyrn placed on her hide. She could sense the power within him, the rage, the warrior- untempered by years or experience, Madyrn was a force to reckon with, but she felt no fear or hesitation as she stood near him. In fact, the opposite happened. By Madyrn's side she felt ready to leap into action, to whirl and dance, to experience everything life had to offer no matter what the risk was. And Couth was normally a practical creature, governed by common sense...But Madyrn made her feel possessed by some devious spirit that willed her to step beyond normal boundaries and embrace everything life could throw at her. His comments fueled her confidence, and she felt flattered by the knowledge that he was flirting quite heavily- and quite earnestly- with her. It took everything she had not to simply offer herself to him then and there, and the only reason she was able to was because Maskan was present; and she identified him already as a brother figure.
"Aye, I'm sure of that," Couth replied with a dark laugh, jousting with Madyrn's sense of humour when he claimed that they knew many different 'dances.' She chuckled darkly when Madyrn went on to claim that he was better than his brother, who seemed to brush the comment off, rather than competing with Madyrn which was not surprising to Couth. "Perhaps we can teach each other," She purred coyly, flicking her tail and meeting Madyrn's crimson gaze for a moment. Oh how much she wanted to take part in a dance lesson right then and there!
But like a cooling liquid pouring over hot steel, Maskan's even voice dragged Couth away from being hell-bent on satisfying her urges. It seemed that both were interested in her background- something she didn't tend to speak about at any length, but nothing she would hide away from others. "Mae herd was full of Moon-Worshipers. I was raised to dance to please our Lady, on nights such as thes'n. We all did. Et was in our blood," She murmured. The majority of what Couth did when she moved was natural, not learned, but years of practice had given her both agility and strength. And yewrselves?"
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| Deceased |
| Stallion :: Equine :: 17hh :: 16 |
| Whit |
It seemed that the stallion was bewitched by the mare, her enthusiasm for his fiery ways were not attempted to be slowed or burnt out, but rather to be encouraged and grow faster. There was a tension upon his loins, one which he intended to release – but not here, not now. But there was a promise behind both his and her eyes, one that they each knew would surely be paid for at the Grove; at least, that was what Madyrn thought. He was thrilled to have found a sort of kindred spirit in the mare, a fire who only wanted to burn their energy out in the most vibrant and exciting ways possible – he was the fire and she, the fire’s light – yes he very much was coming to like this pale maiden, whose accent intrigued him more. Aside from his sisters, she was probably the only mare alive to maintain his attention for this long.
Maskan was happy, for the simple happiness that radiated from his brother (though ‘simple’ might be an understatement) caused great amusement for him. He enjoyed this mare’s company, for though she danced like fire’s light, and indeed held many properties of fire within her; energetic, enthusiastic, exuberant, she was not without her wits, and spoke of things they were all to familiar of. As she described her homeland, both steeds had to wonder if she had come from lands similar to their birthlands, but perhaps hers only provided roosts for the winged equines? The Path of the Moon only ever saw the hornless ground-dwellers enter its gates, and it was not initially by choice that their family had fled the beautiful, moonlit realm.
“The Path of the Moon birthed us.”
“There was only moonlight there.”
“The Sun did not rise.”
“Ever.”
“It was beautiful.”
“We were Protectors of the Forest of the Eclipse.”
“The dance describes the moonlight,”
“the way she inspires us,”
“and motivates us to never let go.”
In the end, they both spoke the last three words, though exactly what they were never letting go of was a mystery. Life? Their family? Maybe they even had hopes of returning to the Path. Maybe, just maybe, they never could truly let go of the Path as it was so much a part of them, to let it go, their vital flames would surely be extinguished.
“It is why our sister feels pulled to the Deep Forest so often.” Maskan added, both their sisters had risen to positions of power in the Forest of the Eclipse, both had aided it in surviving and functioning as a prosperous herd. Both had been infected with the urge to wander, however. It took many years, apparently, for them all to settle, permanently.
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ooc: You can decide whether the boys met Sycha or not ;)
As soon as the stallions spoke of the Path to the Moon, her ears flicked forward. Ancient stories had been told to her, as a filly, about this place, and the Forest of the Eclipse. To stand, now, between the guardians of this place was truly an honor, and her respect and admiration for Mirage grew as well, knowing that she too would have been born into this glorious homestead. She thought back to the tales she had been told by the oldest member of the Pegasus herd she had been born into, the one who had called the Goddess of the Moon "Jehana," who had taught Couth to revere the beautiful Goddess.
"Mae birth herd's Dreamspeaker used to tell me about the Forest of the Eclipse."[b] She said softly, mentioning the ancient Pegasus mare. [b]"She taught me ways to honour the Goddess of the Moon. She could interpret dreams," She said, eyes becoming slightly vague as she did her best to recall the mare. "And messages from our deities." She said. "I wanted to be a Dreamspeaker," She said quietly, an anecdote she had never released, and a secret wish she had never once spoke of to another equine. She felt slightly vulnerable, having spoken it now, but she knew she was in good company; these steeds were kin to her already.
"I always wished to see the Forest. Is the Deep Forest anything like it?" She asked. The Dreamspeakere had spoken of the Forest of the Eclipse, but Couth had never been able to tell if she had ever actually traveled there...But now she could find out. Her heart brimming with hope, she met Madyrn's eyes, then Maskan's. "Did yew...E'er meet a Pegasus named Sycha?" She had always asked the ancient, silver Pegasus if she had actually traveled to the Forest of the Eclipse or if she had seen the Path of the Moon. But such questions had always been dismissed with gentle laughter, though some part of Couth had always hoped that the answer had been true.
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| Deceased |
| Stallion :: Equine :: 17hh :: 16 |
| Whit |
A sense of familiarity settled over the brothers, as the mare spoke of their homeland being told in tales across the lands. They understood now why they had been so attracted to her, it was because she too was from lands not unlike the Path, lands that they may have even travelled to at some stage. Maskan fell silent, a realisation growing in his mind, Madyrn remained oblivious for now, not having connected the dots yet, his attention still mostly upon the glorious Couth. The brother with flamed forelegs did recognise the title of Dreamspeaker however, and his gaze travelled to his twin’s curiously, as Maskan gave a shift of his crown in a subtle nod, a silent acknowledgement that once again, they were on the same page.
Madyrn touched Couth upon her beautiful, chiselled cheek, whispering in hushed, baritone lyrics, “I am sure you would have made a fine Dreamspeaker.” When her eyes sought out Maskan’s with a question, a rare fire of passion lit up his orange eyes, one that Madyrn usually struggled the most to contain, but the mention of Couth’s great granddame had triggered something deep and profound. He nodded, slowly, purposefully, preparing his strong tones for speech, clutching onto her gaze all the while.
“We were not within the Path when we met her, it had already fallen to eternal darkness and disquiet. Equines only ever found their way there, in all the time we knew it.” Memories flooded his senses, her aroma, her beauty, her captivating mind and heart and soul. He shivered, but it was not from the cold, but the memory of her touch upon his sensitive skin. “She ran with us for some time, Couth, aided us in our survival across the lands.” Though she never made it to the Path, at least to the stallions’ knowledge, she had found and lived with them for a number of years – and had made it closer to any semblance of Maskan’s heart than any mare ever had before. Her vibrant, silver hide had gleamed where his was dark, her all-knowing, fathomless chocolate eyes tore into his very soul.
“The Deep Forest is similar only in that trees of enormous magnitude decorate it. The Eclipse only held pine trees, and the occasional oak within its depths. They were different again to trees that require sunlight to grow. As with everything there, they thrived on the moonlight, possessing energy not found in many realms where the sunlight stains the earth.” Madyrn spoke for the description of the Eclipse, giving his brother ample time to process the multitude of thoughts running through his head. Maskan had a look of longing upon his façade, he never knew what had happened to her, but was happy at least to hear that she made it home, to tell stories to her kin of lands she had travelled. Always the tricky little mare, he was pleased at the thought that she might have spoken of their homeland as if she had been there – in a way, she had, through her relationship with them – with him.
“You look like her.” His smile had shrunk, it was small and wistful now, his eyes gazing over her with a newfound fondness; she was indeed a sister to him, moreso than ever before. And to Madyrn? Her appeal only intensified.
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Such gentle tones surprised her when they came from Madyrn. So the fiery stud was not only a man of passion, but of compassion also, one who could show care and fondness. His words were sweet and she exhaled a puff of warm breath softly against his cheek. To have words such as those coming from a horse who had been born at the Path of the Moon was something Couth took very sincerely. He would know, of all horses, about Dreamspeakers, one who would tread into a pool of water in the middle of the night when the moon was full, so as to interpret the word from their deity.
Even higher did her spirits rise when Maskan confirmed that while Sycha had not reached the Path of the Moon, she had joined them after they had left. She poured through her memories then, through the stories Sycha had told her. While the old Pegasus had always answered questions in a veiled manner, a few of her words suddenly began to make sense. Sycha's cryptic messages finally became clear. She listened with glassy eyes as Madyrn spoke of the similarities between where they lived now in the Deep Forest and where the stallions had lived. It was comforting, then, to know that she had not only found herself among her own kind, but living in a place that resembled the one Sycha had often spoken of. When he finished, she smiled faintly, looking to Maskan and sensing that he might have felt some loss; Sycha had left them, afterall, for one reason or another.
"Thank you. She is my great grand-dam," She admitted. "She was still living when I left;" She paused. "Still telling stories of her adventures, of the Moon Goddess and of twin knights." She understood now who Sycha had been speaking of. "She ne'er mentioned yew by name- there were many secrets she never intended to give 'wey. And I did not understand her reference until now- but it must've been you," She said, looking to Maskan. "The 'Twin knights of shadow and flame.'" She said.
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