The mare had been wrestling with another cluster of thistles when the manipulative bells of the horned doe's voice reached her audits. Startled by the porcelain mare's sudden appearance, the mustang stabs a charcoal foot straight into the prickly bush, and pinpricks of pain immediately shoot up her ashen pillar. The wraith examines the area where her foot has suddenly disappeared, seething with frustration and embarrassment, before lashing her tail out with annoyance at the Impersonator's words.

"The Goddess is well known for her challenging tasks, yes, but she is not cruel." The grulla snaps her head to the side as the grey mare steps closer to her sun-branded flank. She has grown impatient with this meadow full of daggers, and she is not responding all too kindly to the way that the horned femme is treating her. The only queen that I must answer to is my own came her short-tempered retort, although she did not voice the words aloud. It wasn't worth losing what little dignity she had left by falling for the doe's dark tricks -- but Sulwyn had already been baited. "I appreciate the offer, mare, I really do, but I am not interested in negotiating with someone from the opposing side."

Realization begins to trickle its way past her thick walls of defense, seeping into the numerous cracks and crevices that laced the brickwork of her mind. Hadn't the crafters said something about a Nightshade...? Oh, yes, that's it! "What makes you think that I'd be willing to make any bargain with the likes of you? It's because of you and your herd of 'superiors' that a member of my family is dead!"

Tears of frustration began to cascade down her cheeks, staining the fur there a dark grey where they would originally have been silver. The lack of emotion that the sun-marked fae had experienced when Lace had shared the news of death was rushing into her, and all at once. It was like a raging river, and there was no stopping the water that rushed past once it had the motivation to flow.

She experienced the anguish that her herdmates shared over the loss of their trusted friends and lovers.

She felt her heart make room for the hole that the absence of a loved one often brought with them.

She grappled with the hopelessness that she was sure every child felt when forced to face the horrific terms of Death; when it paused at their doorstep to fulfill its contract -- to claim the souls that had once been their courageous sire, or their loving dam.

The discomfort that she feels from the thorny branches is no match for the anguish that seeps into each chamber of her heart, threatening to drown her with the drink of all sorrows, and to wash away the misery that had come to inhabit her trembling form. The image of the golden man and his daughters is all too clear to see, but no amount of tossing and turning at night will wipe this memory from her mind. How can I mourn for you if I have never met you? It is a silly thought, but it comes out all the same. I wish that you could have a second chance. If not to spend a minute of your time with me, then to spend an eternity with your daughters.

With her head bowed and her thick silver tresses draped all around her crown, the wraith lifts her trembling leg to reveal a latticework of scrapes, and she moves the injured leg onto a thorn-free patch before raising her head to speak.

A shadow casts over the golden-eyed fae as she forces her golden eyes into a pair of equally metallic ones, unafraid to reveal the raging mass of emotions that lie behind them any longer. "Do you still feel like striking a deal with me?" The wraith allows the doe to state the price of her cooperation, her head low and ears sagging throughout the conversation, but once the last of the porcelain mare's words leave her lips, the grulla remembers that she still had more company to attend to.

The silver tresses that lay across her striped face and glistening eyes shift when the mustang turns to address her prisoner once more and, as a warning, she allows for one single life-stealing orb to materialize. It casts an eery glow upon her nape and cheek, making the highlights of her banner reflect a soft lavender color. The ethereal flames caress their mother's face, and this time the sun-maiden does not flinch. The dark tendrils are cold against her skin, almost as if they were little ghost hands probing at her face, and she almost lets another tear fall at the comforting touch of her weapon. It has no heartbeat. No soul. No mind. How is it that something that I created to drain the life force of others is now trying to provide me with comfort in my time of need? How can something so destructive be so gentle?

And indeed it was gentle. As soon as the flame began to drain the mare of her energy, it would move away and glow a little dimmer, almost as if it were feeling remorse for hurting the fae that had brought it to life. But each time it moved away, it always came back. Sulwyn appreciated what her magic was trying to provide for her, but she still couldn't shake off the unease that she felt around it. It wasn't natural for her magic to be acting like this; it was (more often than not) uncontrollable, and as soon as she summoned the ghostly lights they would dance around her -- or fly from her -- whenever they pleased. Maybe it was her longing for acceptance, or understanding, that had caused her dark magic to act in this way. Maybe her need for another being to relate to and take all her pain was just too strong. Perhaps it had been a good idea for her to ask the Moon Goddess for a companion, to help her see the light in these times of darkness.

But her train of thought had derailed itself again; she was not guarding the blood-pointed vixen as she should be, and immediately the wraith coaxed her magic to put a little distance between them. "It was not my intention to ignore you, Madam, but it seems that I have done so regardless. I apologize for that." Sulwyn shuffled her dark feet, pain shooting up the leg laced with wounds, but forced herself not to show any signs of the stress in her leg and went on, "I do have the ability to summon these flames, and their purpose is not one that I would like to utilize. It can be rather... tiring. It would make more sense for you to accompany me to the Goddess, where I promise that I will let you go free. My herd has no use for you, and my only intent was to free you from the chains that that stag had bound you in, and I think that I have been successful in my task.

All I ask of you in return is to join me at the Veins, the pair of you, and to forget our difference of herd and of species for these next few days to come. I do not think that it is too much to ask," Sulwyn glances at the white femme, subtly indicating that no bargain will be made for that condition, at least, "I have no quarrel with either of you, I'd like to make that clear. The time of war is not upon us, and so I think that we should be free of the boundaries that our two herds have put up against each other; for now."


Notes: @[Seele]; @[Arah]
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