The light winks out, blackness envelopes the earth, and the world goes silent. Blind, wide eyes turn towards the heavens in shock and growing despair, wondering if the gods had abandoned them or somehow become angered with their foolish ways. And then one by one their cries echo forth, rising in a crescendo of panic and fear, until the land is so alive with noise it is almost beating against the walls of the head of the dame who stands frozen in fear along the beach. Yet, there is no real substance to the noise, as if the agony of all those left sightless resonates deep within the earth, trying to substitute the hollowness left behind when the Earth Lord fell. Mulberry irises are wide, blind. For so long she had lived as an Angel, so close to the heavens, to the sun that warmed her back even as a gangly legged filly. Every morn they had rejoiced in the rising of the Sol, and now it has melted into an obsidian that is far too unnatural, nearly suffocating in its darkness. Luna does not rise to take the throne either, and her tears do not sprinkle the velvet spread above to offer even a hint of luminance. Lost beneath the wave of sudden descending ebony, a sole figure stands upon previously grey-washed ivory sands. Her curves are draped in elegant, pale sanguine, and her locks cascade around sloping shoulders in sweeps of magenta. It is kissed only with trails of goldenrod, and ribbons sweep up long legs in equal shades. None of these features can be seen in the encompassing darkness, but from her pale roseate maw comes a feminine wail of fright.

There was a tale told long ago that the Gods of the skies and wind had looked down upon the crowned and the commonplace, and desired to keep a few of the pure newborns closer to their hearts. In the dead of the night they had swept in and kissed the brow of multiple foals, and when morn ascended in the sky they lived within, the kissed had been blessed with new feathered wings that would allow them to great the celestials with bright faces. But there was said to be a lass of great power who could not resist the beauty of such untainted souls, and in her weakness pressed her muzzle to their tiny upturned faces twice. From this pure love came children of dual flight, double pairs of wings adorning their little bodies. Janet had housed these angels, these special specimens. And Muriel, a coral figurine beneath the choking black of the sky, had been one such blessed child. So in her panic she rises with a swiftness that careens her into the skies recklessly, ribbons seeming to come alive with the speed of her lengthy columns. Quad pinions embrace a world that no longer seems welcoming, and her breaths come in panicked, squeaky huffs.

The shoreline is her only hope, and rocky cliffs that tumble into the seas is the only light source she can find aside from tiny pinpricks of topaz inland. Dark fuchsia hooves clatter harshly upon them as she lands, sloppy and uncoordinated in her sightlessness. Muriel is a lively lass, a beacon of laughter and joy, but now she is scared and lost. Helplessly she calls into the darkness, electric sapphire glowing from the seeping magma around her, clashing with the crimson descendant shade that lies upon her frame like a cloak she cannot escape, one she had emerged into life wearing. "Leliel! Lele!" Stumbling around on lost, searching hooves she calls his name desperately. Oh if only she could find a familiar face! A face at all! The darkness is not so terrifying with the glow of cornflower blue heat surrounding her. The shrines are distant, unknown to her and therefore given little attention. Could anyone see her at all in this pitch black place?

No answer returns and her voice is starting to crack with emotion, and soon she is calling for anybody she knows. "Leliel! Shamsiel! Somebody! What has happened?!" Where was everybody? She had never been to this part of the peninsula, and all she wanted was a kind word and perhaps a bit of news. Why was the world so dark? Why had everything disappeared in such a horrid display? Where were the stars, Sol and Luna? Growing frustrated with the silence, it tangled with her fear until she let out an angry scream and slammed one hoof to the earth in a temper tantrum. Lifting her fores she crushed them over and over into the rock, tiny bits breaking off and flinging themselves away from the temper born of fear and loneliness. When at last she had tired herself, Muriel's visage crumpled and she resisted the urge to cry. Did Leliel truly care so little for her that he would not come searching for his lady? No, it couldn't be true. He was probably still looking for her! She just had to sit and await his arrival...

Muriel crept closer to the largest vein of magma, folding her marked legs beneath her lean frame until her belly brushed the rock shelf below. Four wings curled loosely around her, her frame illuminated in the pulsing light. Perhaps that would be best, to be as visible as possible in such a lightless world? Surely somebody would see her lying in the glow of the lava.

They had to.

She was sure of it.

Small face pressed to the rock sadly, lonely and confused by the events that had transpired without her. Sighing, she closed her lids and prayed that somebody would find her. Wasn't the saying to sit in one place and not try to find those who may be trying to find you? To prevent from going in emptyhanded circles? At least she was shielded from the winter chill, she thought morosely.