Mirage knew all too well the feeling of hopelessness, helplessness that could consume one. She had felt it after Torasin had died, and then Solstice too, and now with more herdmates being declared missing, with the death of the soldier she had been fighting, with everything that had unfolded, the mare wondered how it was she gathered the strength to stand upon her sturdy legs. And yet, here she was. Standing alone, albeit for her dragon, in the wake of seeing the great Goddess of the Moon. Though the Goddess stood for darkness and wind, the world seemed duller, stiller as she faded from sight, and so Mirage merely blinked dumbly at the mists as they folded back down on themselves, realising with a harsh slap in the face that reality awaited her outside of the surrealistic world her meeting with the Goddess had been.

After departing company from her sister and the young mare who lingered there, the WeyrLeader and her dragon walked the mists of the land, feeling a new magic awaken within them. As she walked with the mists, she seemed to become the mists, a magic similar to her illusionary magic and yet completely different. It crawled up her legs, across the tendrils of her mane and tail, along her hide - and yet she shrugged it off, preferring her whole form now, even as she nursed tender muscles and bruises. Akaith murmured above her, taking to the skies. Tell me who is hurt, and where they lie. Mirage requested of her golden companion, who swiftly disappeared in the darkness and mists of their home. The peculiar jewel that now rested about her left foreleg shimmered in the night, its sheen seeming to take on the very shine of the moon itself. The DragonHeart's steps became smoother the more she moved, until she heard footsteps ahead.

"Dragomir!" Her called was genuinely glad, warm and welcoming. She was pleased to see him, pleased even that he would be witness to her family uniting against a foreign invader, and winning, proving that the strength of their bonds was stronger than their opinions of what adorned their skin. Noting the herbs that were clutched by his darkened muzzle, her smile seemed to evolve, to consume her entire facade. But of course he would take guidance from Smoke, for she was an equine, and bonded to a blue no less. "Have you found anyone in need of your skills yet?" Turning her crown about, she looked around, as if to help him find a fallen soldier. How do we fare, Akaith? she probed her beloved dragon, whose only reply was, none dead aside from yours.

@[Dragomir]