He had returned.

The dragonmare had seen him at the meeting. Had held his eye, offered a smile, had encouraged Akaith to impress upon Fajira the deepest feelings of relief and love that swelled within the breast of the Leader. Since the end of the meeting, she had spent the night with her daughters and mate, but she had not slept. Her mind was awhirl with hope that he would not venture back into his wooded shelter for so long again - and it was with joy that she tracked his scent in the early hours of the morning, away from the timber prison he had placed himself in for so long. How many hours had she lingered on its rim, hoping, waiting, wondering when she might see him again? Somehow, she always held onto the faith that he was still alive - it did not smell like death around there - and that he would return to them one day.

It was her fault. That was why she clung onto the hope, lingered around his shelter, that her weakness, her seeking of help, would be forgiven. Even now, she wondered if she was being masochistic, seeking out the pain of rejection when all she hoped for was forgiveness. What did he think of the world that surrounded him now? Was he proud of how the Qian had grown, endured and survived in his absence? Had she done enough to prove that she was not weak - to herself as much as him? She had tried so hard in his absence to do him proud, to show him that the request she had made had been a time of weakness, a time where she had doubted herself. She did not think him weak for denying her, she simply recognised that Leadership was not for everyone (she often wondered if it was even for her) - and she wanted him back, in whatever role he was willing to give her.

The thought of him leaving for good did not cross her mind as an allowable possibility.

So when she found him, standing with the sun touching his silver and gold pelt, she had to restrain herself from calling out with joy and bolting to his side - it simply wasn't polite manners, and something she had always and forever restrained her from. Akaith had no such restraint, and promptly called out a shrill, colourful greeting to the little white dragon and her companion, chittering as she aimed to land upon Lace's back and give him a draconic lashing for causing her beloved bonded so much worry. Mirage approached with her usual smooth stride, a low nicker pulling from her throat, a smile upon her lips that gleamed from her eyes, rimmed by the hint of tears. The dark little mare reached her muzzle out to him, and sought to rub it along his nape, to linger, to hold in the touch of his flesh for as long as he would allow.

"I've missed you." Her accented tones spoke with the depth of truth and honesty, as she aimed her bodice to line up parallel to his own, to press herself against his side. There was so much to say, so much to talk about, and yet she could not find any more words at this stage. Akaith moved to the rock that Fajira was last seen upon, greeting the little white with the friendly action of mutual grooming.

The warmth of his flesh, the closeness of his body, the realness of his presence, was almost overwhelming for the mare. Mirage had loved before - she loved the golden painted steed, Torasin, alongside the one who was her mate, Vikram - and there was no doubt in her mind that she loved Lace. Each of them held a place upon the organ beating in her chest. While she loved the entire herd who resided here, they had left more permanent markings - their names had been written upon the very chambers of her heart. They meant almost as much to her as Akaith did, as her daughters did, her sister and brothers. But she loved each of them in different ways - Torasin for his kindness, his heart of gold, his caring and healing nature, his defiance against the sadness that lurks beneath his happy mask; Vikram for his masculinity, his fierce devotion, the carnal desires he inspired within her; and Lace, for the sheer honest creature that he was, the sometimes foolhardy, noble, spirited soul. If she could have all of them, she would - but even Mirage knew that was unfair. Even now, as she relished his touch, the very real warmth that spread throughout her from realising that he returned the gesture, she felt a pang of guilt strike her heart. Akaith soothed her, assured her that what she felt was not wrong - how could love ever be wrong?

And so Mirage accepted his touch, pressing herself against him just as his bulk sought to make contact along her sides. He reacted to her words then, and she felt the tension ripple down his body, she felt the heartbeat that was pressed against her own chest increase - felt her own leap in response. Still, she leaned into him more, encouraging the words to flow, capturing them with her keen, svelte ears, holding her breath until they were finished. As silence fell between them, with that question of forgiveness lingering, she almost had to laugh. Her breath fell away from her with a small gasp, her lips seeking out to tug gently at his silver mane. "That you were there, in your little tree hollow, provided me with a small comfort… You were still within the bounds of our home… I often lingered at the rim of your hollow, hoping, wishing you would come out, but glad that at least you had not left me forever." He had told her of his previous mistakes, of his traitorous ways, and she had forgiven him for those. When he disappeared into his hollow, she had worried, for barely an instant at least, that he would not emerge, despite the faith she stubbornly held onto that he would.

"I am sorry for pushing you away… I want you here. With me. In whatever way you feel you can bear to be around me." It was frustrating for her, to watch him lead the herd without the formal Leader title, to see him do great things and accept no recognition for his efforts - she wanted him to see himself the way she saw him, the way everyone saw him - as a steed worthy of following. But, if forcing such things upon him meant he disappeared altogether, she would encourage things to go back the way they were - or at least, encourage him to come out of his hiding hole more often. Pressing her muzzle against him, and blowing a gentle, equine kiss, she hoped to impress upon him her sincerest feelings of forgiveness as well as retribution for her own actions, for posing the request that triggered his solitary reaction.

It had been a risk for the mare, to admit just how much she wanted, needed him to be around. The last time she had expressed as much, in the form of offering him a place alongside her, she had triggered a panic within him, pushing him so far away for so long - how much time had passed? - and within the first few hours that she had seen him again she had done just the same thing. Was she a fool? Or perhaps she was insane, in repeating her actions and hoping, praying for a different reaction.

But he did react differently this time, instead submitting to the affection she pressed upon him, and then he spoke. The words that came from his muzzle… she scarcely allowed herself to believe them. What did they mean - both the spoken and unspoken words? You're.. Everything else.. The shadow mare was shocked, though the expression upon her façade showed only affectionate interest. They were some of the last words she ever expected him to utter, particularly to her. Even as she considered them, she knew, had always known, that she loved him, even as she loved Torasin, and was coming to love Thor, Kaj, Destrier - all males, all strong figureheads in her life, all loved equally, with that great magnitude only her heart seemed capable of. Was it unfair of her, to love them all, to accept their love in return, and yet only call one worthy of claiming her heart, body and soul? Vikram had appealed to more facets of the mare then all the rest, he had risen to match her carnal urges when they had struck, he had lifted her, supported her, defended and protected her when she needed it. He understood her, and her ability to love them all. He might have felt jealousy, but still he accepted her for what she was - he loved her for what she was. Mirage had watched Torasin choose love with Brooke (something she had hated, if she were honest with herself), and then more recently, with Solstice (something she found easier to accept) - both times she had felt that strange, unsettling feeling, feelings that she knew she had no right to feel, and so she hid them, instead summoning gestures of support and devotion to her lovers.

But Lace, he had no other lowers, no others to turn to for support, aside from the brotherly affection he might gain from his fellow male herdmates. Was it so unexpected then, that he would accept the affection and love she showed him and return it? Cruelly, selfishly, she could not turn it away - she could only accept it, cherish it, and reciprocate it. Somehow, she clung to the belief that he would find the one who could give him everything he deserved, and that until that happened, she could give him everything she possibly could - her love, devotion, her friendship and support, her heart and soul - and to some extent, her body, though not in the way that lead to the pitter patter of tiny hooves (however heartwarming that image may be).

He continued speaking then, voicing concerns she herself had voiced and discussed, to herself and to her herdmates, constantly talking to and fro about the battle that upset the balance. Mirage had always claimed that once they won the land they fought for, they would constantly strive towards restoring it back to its sensitive dynamic equilibrium, though their efforts had been unsuccessful thus far - until the little dark mare had thought of a way that would surely ensure everyone had equal opportunity once more. Magic was the answer, she wanted to scream it at him until he understood it - even as he spoke it, he revealed the answer, though he was unaware of it. The implications of his particular magic were great, however, and Mirage did hesitate before she moved to speak again. He was.. Immortal? The little mare remembered then, a rainy night upon the beach, where he demanded she judge him for his past actions, and she told him that judgement was for the Gods, not for those of mortal bearing. But she did judge him then, by his request, and now, he was inadvertently judging her - he always did, and not in the negative way that was insinuated. He pulled her up when she grew too excited and set on certain tasks, he made her pause and think, explain herself, ensure there were no faults to the plans.

That was why she needed him.

And now he was the immortal one, able to live forever and literally carve the world to suit his whims, and he was afraid of it. She wondered how it would feel to be immortal, to know that one could live forever no matter how many times they sliced themselves open or crushed bones. The thought caused a shiver to wander down her spine, the hair along her nape rising. Golden eyes turned to view him again, and her muzzle reached to tug upon his silver locks, affectionately, gently. "Magic lives in all of us, Lace. This very world was carved by the whims of Gods, of their power, their lifeblood - Magic. You are right, we created an imbalance in the world when we took the World's Edge as our own. I hope to restore that balance Lace, to spread power equally across all who would support the same ideals." Leaning her weight against him just as he did her, she realised with quiet amusement that if either of them moved away, the other might topple over, such was the extent of their entanglement.

"Many threats arose while you were gone, Lace. A stallion, Tio, made known his intention to overthrow the Dragon's Throat, our sister herd and ally, who also rcently lost their General, Azzuen - I believe you sparred with him once. A group called the Assassins attempted to infiltrate our ranks - though they were unsuccessful, and their former leader now rots in the prison you crafted. The Grey successfully overthrew the Foothills, with Jackal nowhere to be seen, and many of the former residents of the hills now residing here. The Qian has grown, both through new souls seeking acceptance and through the birth of new life." The mare paused, knowing that each sentence she spoke carried magnitudes of information for him to process, and yet somehow she knew he would be able to handle it - that he wanted to hear it all said at once, instead of strung out along a long and tedious conversation. What she said next, however, did make her hesitate, if only for fear of hurting him. "I became a mother." It was a whisper, a low utterance, an admission, not of guilt but regret that the facts of life would hurt him, push him away again. Her eyes, deep and gold, warm with honey and laced with the shameful happiness of tears, sought out his own, hoping to cling to him, anchor him on the spot, hoping that no matter what she said he would understand her.

As he moved, she feared for a moment that he was pulling away from her, that the warmth generated by their intimacy would be shattered by the icy wind that tore over the cliffs. Everything she had said to him jus tnow was a lot to take in - she felt his reaction to the news of Azzuen, his shifting curiosity to the rest of her news. But the warmth did dissipate for a moment, and Mirage shut her eyes tight, unwilling to witness the motion of him leaving again. Stop being silly, Akaith murmured with a strong sense of amusement, flashing an image of the stallion slinging his nape over her own, pulling her closer instead of pushing her away. And, as she watched the image sent by her dragon, she felt the sensations over her neck, against her body, the warm reassurance of his nearness. She melted to his touch, drinking his words greedily, addicted to timbre of his voice, the way it crafted words that set her heart aflame. The question of whether there was temptation present was a cruel one to ask, one that she looked at with guilt and reluctant truth. Desire, similar to that which Torasin had always truck up within her, even after her commitment to Vikram had been made known, was uncontrollably running rampart within her. But was it so bad to feel desire, as long as she did not act upon it?

It was bad, cruel, and unfair. And she knew it.

The mare was glad that his voice broke the silence once again, though his words were laced with more of a bitter aftertaste this time. He raised genuine concerns, ones that she knew would be the largest obstacles they would overcome. The difference was; Mirage was aware of these obstacles, and she was willing to overcome them, or at least try. She would not allow herself, nor her family, to be too intimidated just by the sheer size of the task ahead of them, to give up on the chance, however minute a chance it was, that they could carve themselves and their future generations a home where all could survive happily, peacefully, equally.

"Who is to say what is and is not natural? You? Me? The Gods? Perhaps, in Gassul, it was not natural for you to bend trees to your will, or live on into the unforeseeable future. But you are not in Gassul anymore Lace, nor even Isilme." With an insistent nip aimed for whatever part of his body she could reach - his chest, his shoulder - she continued speaking, her voice expressing some of the surprise she felt at his negativity, his fear for the path she had set for him, when he was the one who had always asked what the next step would be. Did he think it was going to be easy? A simple walk in the park?

"You surprise me, Lace. While you may speak the truth, from your experience, experiences I hold too, I am asking you to envisage a new life, a better life, for all. No, it will not be easy, but it will be worth it, for ourselves, for our future, and the future of our children and their children… If the strength is spread equally, then it will be impossible for one individual or one group to rise and damage those that could not survive against them." Sure, those who thought themselves stronger could try, but they would not be able to succeed if their opponents held enough strength to stand against them. While the little mare always believed in the saying that it was not the tool one held, but the manner in which they longed to use it, but that only held true if everyone had access to the same toolkit. And here, in Helovia, they did.

"The Basin are home to the Plague, a group we are told are determined to exterminate all those who do not hold horns upon their heads. They are ruthless and cunning, and have been far too quiet recently. We beat them once, and they have made it known that we are not forgiven." She referred to her time spent there as prisoner, and the countless little insults that had been passed between them ever since. "I fear that they gather in strength and numbers up there, planning to overthrow the rest of Helovia.. Which is why we must help all to gain the strength to stand up against them. Magic is the answer, Lace. It is a gift, to be treasured and respected, to be shared and cherished, so that we might live in a world where there is no more struggle, no more hatred, no more war or battles or unnecessary death and destruction."

Yes, Mirage knew that what she wanted was unlikely to ever be achieved, but that did not stop her wanting it, striving for it, appealing to all she could to join her on this journey and make it that much more likely to eventuate.

"As for my daughters… I have no doubt you will meet them, whether you want to or not, in the future."

He always was good at debates. As he nipped and lipped at her, the mare leaned away from him, uncurling her nape from his embrace, allowing a willowy half smile to curve her lips, the same semi-playfulness, semi-seriousness conveyed in her honey-drop eyes as in his tone. "I only hope that people would respect the magic they encounter, or are gifted with, that they see its potential, and use it constructively. I… do not think I am particularly generous to the Gods. I merely see them as the creators of this realm we call home, and I respect them for that. The Moon, well, I'll admit to the difference there, for she has guided me since birth. I do trust the Gods, I trust they as they are the creators of their powers, they know where and when to bestow them upon those of us who inhabit their lands." The little mare spoke with honesty, with forthright purpose; she would hide no secrets from him today, if only to help him see her view, just as she tried to see his.

"Change is something we cannot control, it is often futile to resist it. I was gifted with my abilities much like you were; upon entering Isilme, I found I could become my name, an illusion, a trick of the eye. There too, I also discovered Akaith, and the bond that binds us together is something I would be incomplete without. After travelling for so long, wondering when death might embrace me in his cool touch, I found Helovia, and it is here I truly began to live. Here, I was given the ability to take the form of a dragon, to breathe fire, to bear the children of my draconic mate. Here Lace, I was permitted to see, with my own eyes, the very creators of life itself, where in other realms it was merely based upon one's faith in that which they could not see. Change will happen to all of us Lace, and those of us who accept it, and adapt to it, are the ones to survive." Though the mare did wonder at his mention of eliminating all the magic in the world - she recalled a stallion who thought similarly; Gunslinger, the equine of Isilme, bonded to a bronze dragon that Akaith had taken fancy to. She shook the memory from her mind, unwilling to linger upon thoughts of a forgotten hero in a faraway land.

"I miss my birth home; of that there is no doubt. But it is still there, inside of me, a part of me, and my daughters, and will be part of their daughters too. But without its destruction, I would not be here, standing alongside my friend, discussing a great many things like we always do. It fell due to imbalance; it was a land of eternal moonlight, no Sun ever rose, and yet life thrived there, for many generations. It could not last, and soon, the darkness fell to be nothing, a void, a gaping wound in a lost corner of the world. I learned the importance of keeping the balance from that realm, and I hope to use that knowledge to aid Helovia's ongoing survival." Her voice quietened as she spoke of her home, the Path to the Moon, where one prayed to the celestial body in the sky and rarely received a reply, where only equines roamed and chose an alliance - the lands own way of keeping a balance - but it hadn't been enough. And now it was gone, forever.

"The Basin would be fools to think themselves capable of defeating us should they bring war to our borders. The purpose of spreading the magic to those who would respect it is to trust that they would know when, and how, to use it appropriately. We fight, but only to defend ourselves. We fight to keep the balance; we tipped it in our favour when we took the Edge as our home, and it was restored when the Basin was discovered, and inhabited by its former residents. Now, as we hear rumours of the Basin's numbers growing, we must ensure we grow too, to balance out their racist views with our views of equality. The scales need to be balanced, Lace, else we will fall all the harder should we succeed; or them. We must endure their threats, we must show them we are strong enough to survive anything they throw at us, so that we may live here in relative peace." She turned her gaze towards him once more, a silent warning behind it.


"We will not be the reason war breaks out in Helovia." The words were spoken with many layers of purpose, the most obvious of which being that it was important none of the Qian acted rashly should anything tragic happen at the hands of the Basin, triggering a more violent response that they would be ill prepared for. It would be just the catalyst that could tip the scales, and that was exactly what they were trying to prevent.

"It is a shame you are not a stone then, but a diamond, rough and raw around the edges, and all the more valuable because of it. " A wry grin touched her maw as she considered him with an affectionate stare, equalling his own serious glare in magnitude only coating it with warm acceptance while his was armoured with impenetrable stubborn unwillingness. Did she mind? Perhaps, a little, but not nearly so much had he meant less to her. It was easier to overcome the 'downfalls' of one's friends when you loved them so severely already, then to receive judgement from a newcomer, an unknown. Mirage accepted his view with a silent nod, dismissing the issue of discussing it with him now, unless he brought it up again in the future.

They shifted positions then, his warm breath rolling down her back, his crown resting upon her dock. The dragons nearby seemed happy to continue their adventures over the cliffside, the DragonHeart was not about to stop them, though her thoughts did disrupt the otherwise playful mood of Akaith. Bronze only wants your happiness, she uttered as she detected her bonded's worries - what would Vikram think of her, standing so near to another male, finding comfort and love and certainly something more in every touch, yearning for more, desiring for more, but at least not taking the steps that could deliver them more. He loves you, the golden dragon warbled almost directly into her mind, continuing on her adventures of aerodynamic displays without further thought. The mare was left unknowing exactly which he her beloved was referring to.

"There are many ways to prove one's strength to potential enemies. We will not start a war, not even if they try to provoke us. Should they bring war to our doorstep, we shall finish it. We shall prove that despite it all, we will endure anything and everything they throw at us." The words spoken were quiet, and somewhat distorted, as the mare had chosen to rest her chin upon the stallion's golden stained rump, leaning her shoulder into the curve of his flank as he did so, finding a simple solace in his presence that very few others were ever able to provide her with. "It matters little to me what outsiders might think of us. They would soon discover the truth if they looked beyond their ignorant assumptions." With a smile pressing against his rump at his swinging tail, she lifted her own, aiming to sway it not-so gently against his knees.

The mare didn't know if she was talking about the Qian or about her friendship with Lace.

And she decided it didn't matter.

Following mother was certainly a highlight of my day. I had not stirred when she left in the early hours of morning, sleep having finally taken me deeply and soundly after spending much of the night chasing Daryth about. He was particularly difficult to see at night, his strange dark light illuminating him against the darkest shadows and the fires of the camps alike. So often did I lose him, that it would take him bursting forth a lick of flame to catch my eye once more before I located him again. Of course, he was never truly lost - if I paid enough attention to the magic that allowed our strange spirit-bond, I would be able to find him even with my eyes closed.

However, I digress.

When I awoke to find mother had left us, I was not terribly surprised. It was not unusual for her leave before the sun rose, to begin the day's tasks that she bore with such effortless expertise . I followed her often enough to know that they did wear down upon her, though not all were as observant as me, my sister, and my father. We did have Akaith to give us hints too, after all. With a happy hum beginning in my throat, I nudged at my silver sister gently, before dropping my maw to the loam, summoning Daryth to my side, and following the very subtle trail our mother had left in her wake. I tried to move with similar stealth as she, but it was little use - my legs still did not always agree with the direction I asked them to go in.

As the brush before me cleared to allow fresh salty air to wash over me, I was greeted quite loudly by my mother's beloved bonded, Akaith. Daryth flew to her, his small, dark smudge taking up the space of perhaps one of her wings - similar to the white that flew about too. I smiled at them, unfolding my wings and letting loose a delighted, musical song, that wasn't quite entirely equine nor draconic in nature. Feeling the elation in Daryth's soul at meeting the white Fajira, I eventually peeled my attention away from the cavorting dragons, to view my mother standing in an easy embrace with a strange, golden-silver-black stallion.

I was not sure what to make of the scene.

Mother only reserved her affections, at least, the ones she expressed openly to others, to those who were very deserving of it. As I approached them, tucking my wings down by my side, lowering my tail from its previous enthusiastic stance curled upwards, I pondered just who could have earned such genuine love from the one that had birthed me. The expression upon my façade was guarded, if anything, it was serious, as I regarded this stallion with the open intensity of my gaze. I was standing slightly to my mother's side of him, and so he was obscured by the very dark rump of my mother, but still I was able to guess at his identity from tales mother had told us when we were even smaller than we currently are.

"Do you love my mother?" It was a pointed question, and I meant it in such a way that implied he loved her much like my brothers loved her, much like I loved Torasin or Semira, or Madyrn, or Tandavi. Familial love was all I knew, and I had to know if this steed was worthy of it too.


[ ooc :; I believe Kachie intends on posting Semira shortly C: ]