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 a summons at the borders.

Swiftly she moved, her motions seeming to become foggy, like the mists that decorated her home. Who would call to her from the borders of their land? Overhead, Akaith was scouting the region, and so she sent an image of the mare back to her - a unicorn. Was she familiar? Vaguely, though Mirage was unsure whether she had actually met the girl before. Why then, would she stand at the borders, like a stranger? "I am here," Her voice was hushed, her steps slowed and controlled, as the mists seemed to flow from within and around her. "Please forgive me, I do not recall your name." The tones were laced with genuine sincerity and regret. The duties of a leader called to her more often then not, and made her miss out on building relationships with those her other faithful members had recruited. Have we truly grown so large that I do not know half of those who call my home theirs as well?

@[Antheia]

The girl spoke, and Mirage listened intently. There was a cloud of guilt hovering over her, a great sense of sadness that she was ignoring those who called themselves WeyrFolk, those who made up the mass of numbers of the more common ranks, the ranks that were often always unappreciated. What could she do to rectify this situation of overlooking all those who made up the lower ranks of her herd?

Or, who, evidently, used to make up these ranks.

The emotion Antheia showed as she spoke led Mirage to believe that she genuinely felt remorse for her decision to leave the Edge, the Qian. No laws were ever set with regards to leaving - it was not a prison, but similarly it was not something you simply picked up and dropped without thought. Antheia would not be welcomed back to the Qian, for clearly she did not understand the fundamental qualities that made the Qian what it is - a family, a herd, a group of souls who were sworn to protect one another at all costs.

"Thank you for speaking to me." The quiet voice of the WeyrLeader began, the emotion upon her slightly dished façade heavily guarded behind a veil of indifference. "I do not.. understand what it is that led you to this decision, and I am sorry to hear that you feel this way." She spoke again, chewing each word over before delivering it. "You have abandoned your family, and all that it stands for." The mare's voice sharpened slightly. Mirage was weary, battle-worn and somewhat on edge - it was probably not the best time to speak to her about alliances and second chances. At the same time, the mare could understand a wanderer's desire to not be strung out by restrictions placed by family ties. A deep sigh filled her lungs, and as it vacated, she spoke for a last time.

"Why didn't you come to us, who were your family, when you were going through this trial that has changed your heart so?" Why didn't you call for me earlier? I would have come, always, for my own kin.. of which you are not counted to any longer.

@[Antheia]