The more he walks the more he finds himself thinking not a person exists here- the few who tread are light-footed and little more than insubstational ghost. Where are they? He is disappointed in the silence of the herd. The stallion does not want arguments, nor hardship, or anything of a sort that is poorly and dark; he has no need of arguments or conflictions in the herd. Yet he cannot help but feel the herd is deathly silent.

Where are they? The foals, the smiling creatures, the laughter and the warm scents of family? The stallion sighs, a deep sigh filled with sorrow. Mostly he wants to shed tears for what feels the death of a herd never alive to him; is it, perhaps, time to move on, to somewhere with his time better spent? Yet the mountains keep him close and the grass is green; the birds sing and the skies are bue. His thoughts are simpler things. He has always been a simple, happy creature, at ease with his family. Not often is he troubled anything but creating items and bending metal.

Argetlam moves soft-footed, lightly treading, through the valley deep and broad, or phrased more correctly, the rolling emerald hills and rough turf. He can sense the metal, it's throbbing heartbeat in the earth. And he begins to dig, one pale hoof knocking the dirt out, scraping away at rocks. It takes until the sun is high to chip away at the small patch of dirt, but nonetheless he does, and the sunlight soaks into his dark stone coat, dappled pale.

It's a vein, of iron. A throbbing vein that seems to hum, ready and excited for his touch; and Argetlam begins to farm it, casting waves of thought wide and carefully extracting it, and more and more, until he has a sizeable amount. For a long moment he studies it, and then he begins the process, twisting and forming it, locking it and trying his best to carve some details into it with the knife of his metal telepathy, until it is done. A mouse, simple enough, with delicate ears and a long, slender tail, and he pushes it with his muzzle; but it doesn't wind up and move, and he gives a little huff of disappointment.

[open!]

"TALK TALK TALK"

it has come to pass...

Daybreak came early, maybe too early. Shades and hues that would have any sailor sighing in relief gave way to painting the sky with bloody reds, golden yellows, and sapphire blues. NADIRA had been relishing in the peace and quiet of the night. Sleep had evaded her once again, but the black velvet, strewn with newly found diamonds overhead, had taken all her attention and focus. Now, it was midday. The birds were full of chatter and everyone seemed to have disappeared. Out and about on their daily errands, she assumed. She welcomed the loneliness, as having time to herself was something she treasured.

Her strides were long, flowing like a gentle river, nothing that would give the impression to be feasible to such a small mare. Elegance and eloquence abounded her and she took this day to explore the herd land, while there appeared to be no interruptions to threaten her inquisitiveness. She didn’t have to travel far for her acute auditory senses to draw on hoof meeting dirt. Though it was more of a digging noise, then one of travel or movement. As curious as a feline, she set out to discover what the noise was all about. So much for interruptions, she thought.

The reverberation had traveled a further distance than she had calculated. But as she noted the path she was taking, she knew she had seen this pattern of flowers before. Wasn’t it the filly she had met while welcoming Romani back to the Foothills? The girl had a gift of being blessed with a trail of flowers that bloomed after her, and NADIRA was pretty keen on picking up things like this. So she wasn’t the only one curious enough to find out what all the hammering was about.

Rounding the bend in the landscape, NADIRA caught sight of the little filly, frozen in place, and another creature she had come across in a cave, not far from here. Though the lighting had been terrible in the cave, now his true coat was on display. She thought she remembered him as Argetlam. His dappled coat was no longer a dingy charcoal, but a grey. And his feathers were more prominent. But what was that on the ground, beside his hooves? Continuing up to the duo, she smiled down at the filly.

“It’s quite a pleasure to cross paths with you both.”

Vocals were warm like a summer breeze and soft, gentle like a rose petal. Her smile was inviting and spheres of sapphire, bright and alert. Inquisitive ears flicked to face forward, and her tiny maw drew in the direction of where the metal mouse lay. Glancing up at Arg, she threw a questioning look his way.

“Did you do that?”

The opaque mare was certain her surprise and curiosity had mimicked that of the filly. But it was already too late to take back her intrigue with his ability to mold things, let alone mold metal for that matter. She stood next to the filly, probably not much taller than her. She tried not to step on the blooming flowers that were surrounding her spotted frame. Every creature that roamed Helovia appeared to have unique markings, or patterns, or colors to give them uniqueness among each other. And here, NADIRA stood, colorless; a bloodless pigment on a canvas that melted into the background. But didn’t she prefer not to be noticed? So she could disappear and not have to explain things. Yes, that was it. The less attention drawn to her, she knew it was better that way. Fewer explanations meant more privacy.

His thoughts are certainly on the wrong path, for lo and behold, a foal does come, a small fragile filly looking nearly sickly with the desolation and despair, the thoughts inscribed on her face. Hardly had the metal-bender heard her, so lightly did she step on the ground, alabaster hooves delicate over the emerald green grass. So small beside him, in front of him; flowers blossoming in multitudes around her hooves, springing up and twisting into a fantastic display of colors, impressive colors. Metal could be wrought and twisted, bent and hammered, but it would not change colors significantly, nor did it come in brilliant rubies and sapphires, pastel violet and cheerful yellow. She smells sweet, of flourishing blossoms and the stone-earth-grass of the Foothills homeland.

Argetlam's heart aches at the sight of her delicate face, which looks miserable for one as young as her. The crafter caught sight of her mahogany eyes, red-tinted; and he frowned slightly. Her praise stuttered, shy and fragile as herself, and the massive stallion stepped forward, gently reaching out to nuzzle her, tail sweeping over his flanks to drive away the flies, his muzzle rubbing her forelock. "Don't look so down." The massive stallion murmured, amber eyes gentle. Suddenly, as if feeling imposing himself upon her, despite his care not to damage the flowers at her small feet, he steps back hastily. But not a moment later a grin shifts his features, and the crafter turns hastily back to the mouse, working swiftly on the metal mouse he had left behind his platter-like feet.

For his concentration upon transforming the mouse into something, he almost entirely misses Nadira, the pale mare who appears like a sweet spirit in the cool morning air quickly heating. "That's not right," the stallion mutters, stamping a hind hoof, skin shivering over muscle thick and brawny, dislodging more flies. Flies were always at their worst this time of morning, buzzing about, biting and nipping and creating all sorts of itches. He tosses his head, tearing his amber eyes away from the small item, and catches sight of the pure white unicorn.

"It is well to meet you, Nadira." Argetlam says cheerfully, hoping the high spirits in his voice will get across to the little filly. Then his eyes drift back, and her voice becomes muted in the background. Scowling in concentration, he wills it to move, transform, break into two pieces of metal; one forms into a smooth ring, and the second into a thin strand that could fit around a neck, with a delicate, metal-wrought flower at the end. More minutes pass, Argetlam stomping a hoof on occasion to shake off the flies, his amber eyes studying the handiwork carefully, and then he gives a nod, and picks up the necklace between his teeth.

The necklace he carries to the young filly, carefully moves it over her head and lets it settle around her neck. He smiles at the filly, gently, hopefully, and introduces himself. "Argetlam, miss, and carry that round your neck and let it pick up your spirits, yes?" He turns on his haunches, eyes squinting to pick out Nadira's color-less form in front of the rising sun, and plucks the ring up in his, tilting his head just so that it fits over the mare's horn. It lies loosely on the tip, so she may shake it off if she chooses; or, if she wishes, she may toss her head up and it will settle down the pale bone. "And for you, Nadira, if you wish to keep it."

[If you feel like this is god modding, I can go back and change it!]

it has come to pass...

NADIRA watched Nayati intently. She wanted to help the filly, but she felt as if she would be stepping on Romani. She had seen the look her friend had given at the sight of Nayati leaving. It was a fine line to keep strong and not break. It was a different situation, circumstance, NADIRA never had to worry about before. She had been a loner far too long to know what it felt like to have friends. Maybe that was why her heart hadn’t quite settled down.

With Arg’s warm welcome, she new it was more for the little than anything else. But she did not protest. She thought it kind of him to take the little girl into consideration. She continues to watch the maker at work, trying to transpose what he had already configured, into something new. And now the mouse was in two. The first instrument he molded was of a necklace, with a flower. The ashen mare was moved, as Arg moved to pick it up and carefully proceeded to Nayati. Placing it over her cranium, the necklace, made of metal, was beautifully placed and made a nice ornament around the girl’s neck.

Arg’s words were spoken with soft whispers. Hoping to turn filly’s day around, and not so gloomy looking. With the glowing awe shone by the filly, NADIRA smiles, seeing Nayati envelope the gift with happiness. Even the littlest of things can make someone’s day, and Arg had accomplished that.

“That is gorgeous dear.” Her words floated down to Nayati’s small auds, soft and warm.

His second piece, was a little bit more simpler, and the unicorn couldn’t exactly figure out what he had made until it was completed; a ring. Shocked, NADIRA couldn’t comprehend what he was going to do with a ring, of all things. And as he picked it up, cautiously and with delicacy, he turned to place it on her horn. The surprise in her eyes was certain to be revealed, but it was nothing to be ashamed of. She moved with fluid ease and listened as the tinkle it made, sliding down to the base of her horn, resting lightly against her brow.

“You didn’t have to, Argetlam. But thank you. I will keep it as a treasure and as a token of our friendship.” Her iceberg spheres glisten with kindness at his gesture and but him in her memory of those she considered a true friend. She wondered how often she would find someone with such a kind heart as his.

As the spotted girl was turning to leave, NADIRA quickly swung her delicately chiseled façade to face to retreating form.

“Dear Nayati, it was your flowers I followed here. Do you wish for some company?”

The milky mare waited for a response, hoping maybe she would not disappear. But how could she with a trail of flowers leaving a path behind her to follow. She wasn’t quite sure, but she found the filly to be too polite. She was too well mannered to enjoy her time being young at heart. She wished she knew how to help the dear thing.

As he reaches out to her, she quivers, as if torn by the urge to run and hide, and concern twists his heart. But so gentle, and soft, is his touch, that she stills slightly, and when he pulls away, she reaches out, muzzle against his, small against large, white against black, her ruby eyes with a touch of nerves. Argetlam still moves away, only fueled by her quiet need, and turns to begin on his project, heart nearly broken by the sorrow she emanates. What has happened to such a sweet, fragile filly? She is scarred along her left flank, a massive scar, a scar which is unlike any Argetlam has ever seen before. He wonders of it, but senses it would not do to bring it up.

When he finishes, and slips it round her head, the fragile filly seems to be in near tears. Yet she smiles, a smile that transforms her from a forlorn, pale figure to the filly she should be- full of exuberance and excitement. Well, maybe she's not there yet, but Argetlam's determined she will, even if it means giving her a new present everyday. No horse, especially not a filly, deserves to be wallowing in misery. The filly speaks, stuttering slightly, reminding the metal-bender strongly of his own rumbling, mumbling, tones, words that run together hastily or too far apart. Nayati, she says. "Good." The dapple gray sighs.

Nadira, too, seems surprised and touched by his token. She lets it slide down her pearl horn, pretty as ever, and the stallion, feeling even more grizzled and dirty than ever beside her, smiles awkwardly, feeling hot with embarrassment with her praise of him. It's really not to difficult, to create a simple ring, but he's not sure if it would be rude to say he didn't put too much effort into it. "Oh, um... you're welcome." Argetlam murmurs, backing away, shy as Nayati he feels. Luckily, the beautiful mare turns her attention to Nayati, her sapphire eyes no longer settled on him, giving him a sense of quiet relief. He's intimidated by the gorgeous white mare- it was strange, he had never been bothered by Ailith's beauty once he began to talk a bit. Then again, Ailith wasn't soft-spoken and gentle necessarily.

Argetlam doesn't know if he should accompany Nayati and possibly Nadira or continue to hone his metal-crafting skills. It would probably be polite but he doesn't really feel up to more carefully constructed conversation. It's just so... difficult. So the dapple gray watches the two of them, debating and weighing the pros and cons.