Sadness had a way of permeating the air, of thickening the atmosphere, of fogging up the once clear, true path one might have laid out before themselves. The WeyrLeader did the best she could for her herd, but still, she found that she could never see everyone as often as she would have liked - especially since she had become a mother to two wonderful, beautiful, glorious girls. They were in the care of their father now, no doubt learning the ways of stealth, of patrolling, or perhaps of hunting and foraging, or even of self-defence. Mirage loved her girls, but it was a relief, she guiltily admitted, to walk away from the Edge, to head south, to walk the thin path that led to the Blue, and to be alone - save for Akaith's company. The little dragon was completely besotted with the twins, of course, and equally reluctant to leave them - but once the sand was beneath them, the ocean beside them, the skies clear and broad above them, she allowed the happiness of the occasion fill her wings with speed and acrobatic performances.

Gossamer was not the same. This much was obvious from the mare's quiet presence in the Edge. Mirage had tried to give her something to do, welcoming her home, knowing that she could never provide the mare with what she had had before - a herd to lead, a mate, a biological family. The little shadow mare could only provide herself, a friend and confidant, and the family she had brought together in the World's Edge, to share with Gossamer. But had she really been a friend? She had welcomed Gossamer, yes, but she had also welcomed dark shadows from Gossamer's past - the very stallion that had taken her herd from her, the very steed that had begun the ruin of the Foothills by handing the leadership away to creatures too inept to carry the responsibility. Had she truly been a friend, at all?

It was a question the mare didn't want to honestly answer, and yet she found herself confronted with it as the scent of the pale mare crossed her path. Akaith moved swiftly, following it, sensing in her curious draconic way, the tension being emitted by Lazulli, the little blue who was almost as old and wise as she. The queen might never consider him a mate, but he certainly was a friend to her. Spying his form upon the prone bodice of Gossamer from the heights above, she delivered the scene to her bonded's cranium, and both queens moved across the sands with haste. Mirage's crown was held low, her muzzle sweeping the sands as she rounded the pallid mare's forequarters, the soft, dark maw reaching out to brush against the other mare without hesitation, a firm, reassuring contact that spoke louder than any words she uttered ever could. We are here, her motions said, as she positioned herself beside the mare, and slung her crown over Gossamer's withers. We are sorry, but we are here, and we always will be, the little queen did similar, landing upon the lands beside them, leaning her forepaws upon the side of the pale mare to inspect Lazulli, chirruping hopefully, nudging him to ensure she had his attention.

"You have our love, Gossamer." She spoke the words this time, the tones deep and honest, a whisper upon the salty breeze.

It matters not who loves you, child, but rather, how they love you. If one should love you well and true, then one is all you need. If many should love you with hollow hearts and shallow minds, then there will never be enough love to sustain you.

But most importantly of all, child, is your ability to love in return. Love with integrity, little one, love with honesty, with loyalty, with devotion. Give your love to as many deserve it, and do not let it dim when times are tough. It is those times, my dear, that your love will carry you through to survival.

She remembered the words perfectly, as if they were uttered in her ears only the day before, spoken by velvet lips the colour of charcoal, lips that spoke so ardently and purposefully, most anything they uttered was a gospel worthy of worship. Mirage recalled the conversation with her mother, spoken amongst shadows and darkness. It had been initiated by a query from the young belle, barely a yearling at the time, questioning why she should love her older brothers, who had caused her grief earlier that day with their infuriating, brotherly ways. It had turned into an all-night lesson beneath the stars, something which she probably did not appreciate fully until some years later when the advice struck true, time and again.

Now was one of those times.

Another comes, was all the warning Mirage received from her little queen, who was working her way up Gossamer's side to rest beside Lazulli, pressing her golden hide against his own, grooming him, stroking him with a gentle, caring caress. Mirage's golden gaze flicked open to view Smoke, aware of the friendship that existed between she and Gossamer, a friendship that had seen them leading the Foothills herd together for those first precious seasons. The mare offered Smoke a small, softened gaze of welcome, but swiftly allowed the fallen pale maiden to consume her attention wholly once more. Akaith warbled a small greeting to the tri-hued blue that sat atop Smoke's withers, before her scaly crown was turned at Lazulli, who spoke of his despairing predicament.

To be locked out, excluded from something that they had known since birth - to be cut off from the one and only lifeline they had ever known - was torture. Akaith knew this, for she had experienced it last Birdsong, when a mysterious eclipse had numbed the bond between them. How they had survived that was a mark of the true strength of their bond, but that did not mean they would willingly shut the other out. Through Akaith, Mirage learned of what her friend was doing to the little dragon, and she pressed her muzzle against her, her gaze silently pleading. "Show your gratitude, Gossamer, by letting us help you." She looked to the little dragon perched so close to her. "All of us." Akaith pressed her mind against Mirage's then, proposing a course of action - the wall Gossamer had built was thick and strong, supported by leagues of pain and torment, self-pity and depression.

Do what you must, Mirage instructed her little queen, who promptly warbled a colourful note so that Zaffre knew he would be needed in this exercise. Dragons were telepathic by nature, and Akaith was the oldest bonded royal Mirage knew to reside within Helovia. The power of the mind was magnificent, and the little queen's mind was sharp, and knew how to focus itself. With Lazulli's aid, she encouraged Zaffre to join her in pressing upon the walls of their very bond. She intended on pressuring those walls until they broke, shattering them so that clear waters ran between dragon and equine, instead of the dark, dangerous, shadowed, murky depths of depression that resided there now. With her determination and sheer power of will, she filled the space that had grown between them, and smashed it down. With her refined skill, she recrafted it, so that it was whole and complete, once more.

And once it was complete, the shimmering, golden soul of Akaith returned to its confines of her own bond between her own equine soul. Yes, Lazulli would feel the pain that Gossamer felt, but Gossamer would in turn feel the overwhelming relief that surely came with being reunited with his unique soul once more. There was nothing worse then dying alone - Gossamer had the gift of the bond, why should she destroy it before her time? Mirage breathed a deep sigh, feeling the effects take place second hand, but exhausted from them all the same - she could only imagine the weariness that her beloved felt. But Akaith was stoic and silent, as she observed what would unfold from her actions with a quiet, speculative attitude.

[ Permission from Illu for powerplay ]