The blue girl's warning stuck in my mind, her story of a war resounding through the day. The Throat, she told me, was threatened by unicorns - and, I mean, Seriously? Unicorns? Of course it was unicorns, it was always unicorns. The idea that I had narrowly avoided having another home destroyed by the horny brutes left me with a deep sense of sardonic amusement. Had Adrixaura not been so obnoxious, had Seele not treated me like a piece of meat, had Smoke not barged in, unnecessarily self-righteous and determined to save the day - if these things had not happened, what were the odds I would have followed Andromeda, the only one who had been at all decent, home? I'd like to think them very small, but in all honesty... oh, I was tired and angry and stupid when I came into Helovia. I knew perfectly well that I could not retract what I had done, or said. I wanted to believe that Andromeda hated me, that I had lost my chance to find her secrets (a sky pegasus, could she have been from a land not unlike mine?) And, most importantly, I wanted to believe that I did not care, had never cared, and that the idea of unicorns threatening someone else who had shown me kindness was not one that left a shallow black hole in my stomach.

But then, I was never a very good liar.

And so I found myself lurking on the starlit mare's borders, beside a gap in some impossible wall. The dusty sand felt dead against my hooves, so barren and unlike the home I had once loved. Was the entire place like this? I eyed the dark horizon warily. In the distance I could see some macabre light, an eerie glow reflected in the cloudy skies. It brought back memories of a burning wood, and for a bright and horrifying moment I heard the screams, the dying cries of a doomed people, the roar of gods trapped forever in the grip of stone, the death of my home resounding endlessly in my ears.

A shudder racked my body, involuntary and jarring. That isn't here. This is not my kingdom. In fact, I owe these people nothing of myself. I could leave now- should leave now. The words felt hollow inside my own head, cruel in a way I would have once loathed, and oh, so very tempting. I wanted to leave, to let these unknowns burn in the doom they had no doubt brought down upon themselves. I wanted to avoid watching them mourn as I had mourned. I had no interest in investing myself among others again.

And yet... What harm would be found in repaying a kindness? I reasoned silently, stepping forward and past the unfinished barrier. All I had to do was ensure Andromeda's safety, and then I could go about my merry way, back to the wilds and perhaps even out of this damned, dark hell. Oh, I know. I was a fool for thinking life could be so simple. I knew it even then. But cynicism was a vice I indulged too often, and in the bowels of my heart, I clung to the foolish youth I used to be with desperate ferocity, and wondered if he would ever truly come back.

out of the ashes, we rise again

I felt like a stalker as I stood there, waiting to catch sight of a girl I barely knew. Foresight had never been one of my strongest traits, and I often wound up in the frustrating predicament of wondering how I got into this mess. If she saw me lurking at the rim of her domain, would she even approach? Or would she send a pack of guards to chase me away? I knew that, as a commander, I would never let an Earth Maiden wander without escort after - much less during - the threat of an invasion. Andromeda was not an Earth Maiden, true, but I had not yet ruled out the possibility that she could be a Sky Maid. Regardless of her imagined potential ties to my long-lost home, I was a moron to think I would magically find her simply by arriving, unannounced and uninvited, on the front step of her home.

Yea, I was a fool - always had been, even before I became jaded and cynical with the sands of time. But I had always been a lucky fool, and it was with some relief that I spotted my painted welcoming committee of one and not an army. Small, built not without delicacy, the distant pegasus was not clearly Andromeda, and I felt a lump of frustrated disease bubble in my chest. I had not come here to socialize, nor to fight, and it looked as though I would be fated to engage in one of those two activities. All I wanted was to know that someone who had been kind to me was safe- couldn't I just have that?

At least it was a pegasus. The presence of my kind boded well for the safety of this place.

I took a step into the darkness, then hesitated. It was not too late to turn tail and run, content myself with the basic knowledge that unicorns probably hadn't sunk their horns into the Dragon's Throat. Dealing with a stranger was not something I wanted, and to make matters worse, it had suddenly dawned on me that the mare was a mare. Earth Gods take it and the sky be damned, are there no males in this dratted country? The temptation to flee grew stronger but lost conviction, and in the end my hesitation made the decision easy. I shifted my weight into a stance more prepared for some unexpected attack, wings rustling uncomfortably against my stony sides, golden eyes cloaked with undeserved prejudice for a girl with little but good in her heart.

I am not your brother. I cannot tell you what it is that sets me on edge so, but ever since the fall of my family I have loathed to be called "brother". The familiarity, the flashback to some sort of bond... I frowned at the painted mare, but did not speak. I am not your family. I owe you nothing. Already grumpy, her question as to why was one I was suddenly reluctant to answer, a bit of myself I did not want the paint to have. Besides, what was I to say? My true intentions - finding a mare I did not know - or some tidbit of shallow small talk, something to keep her satiated and engaged? Oh, you know, I heard you were invaded, just wanted to check in. Wicked scars, by the way.

I decided to be honest. She could think me a creep; see if I cared (I did). "There is word on the wind of engagements on your land; one of yours was kind to me, and I hoped to ensure that she is safe." My eyes did not leave the blue of the paint, and my voice did not offer apology. Let the mare cast her judgment, I thought; better she send me away than force me to endure the nagging and demanding of another dame.

out of the ashes, we rise again

Of course, I did not notice the girl's radiance until it dimmed, a shadow pulled over it like clouds across the sun. Her smile had been so bright, her eyes so alive when she landed before me minutes before. Warmth; she nearly glowed with it, and in its sudden absence I felt a wave of nostalgia for a past I had forgotten I once had. Once upon a time it had been me making mares smile; once upon a time I had glowed at the sight of a pretty face. Yet when I met Onni all I could muster was mirthless discomfort and the warmth of a stone.

In the darkness of her sorrow I waited for words, refusing to drop my visual grasp upon her. My eyes had better adjusted to the dim light and her splashed white form, and as my gaze ran over her I made out a harsh, fresh scar upon the otherwise pristine face. A trophy from the war I had come to... to what? Prevent? Assist in? Assess the damage of? Rescue a damsel from? My motives for coming to the Throat were still unclear, even to me. Find Andromeda, assure she was safe- this was the main goal, and in my distracted state I'll admit I had nearly forgotten the starlit mare in the influx of Onni that I found myself confronted with. Damn mares; even after so many years of bitterness and withdrawal a pretty smile and a sultry word could get me into trouble.

I noticed the girl's smile this time, a softer thing tinged with an edge of what might have been pride. It lifted some of the weight from my mind, the guilt I felt at squashing that happy demeanor. Her words reflected my suspected self-satisfaction, and also confirmed my suspicions, that the land had been rendered quite safe without me. Andromeda was probably fine, then, and my much begrudged quest for nothing. Good, I told myself firmly. I can be rid of this place with no imaginary debts to repay. I turned my attention back to the (slightly) taller pegasus, ready to receive validation of my assumptions.

Turns out I did not have to ask.

My guard fell like a rock, abruptly abandoned in the name of a woman I barely knew. I took a step towards the painted mare, split eyes hard and voice gruff with uninvited concern. "Is- will she be alright? Can I do anything?" Senseless questions- of course she'd be fine. The mare hadn't said she was dying. And what help would she want from me, a stallion she had barely met who left in an irate huff when confronted with too many females? None of these things were at the forefront of my mind; I had regressed in my surprise, falling back into the old bad habit of giving a shit, pardon my language. I was vaguely aware of the ugly distress painting my face, the rusty lines of regard pulled from a dusty closet where they had sat for some years.

It wasn't that Andromeda was special, or had meant so much to me, or that I had fallen in love at a single sight. It had just been so long since I cared for anyone, since I had anything to love, that now that I'd found a solitary soul that I almost liked, I felt an irrepressible and unexpected need to overcompensate for the lack. Would making sure the mare was safe make me feel better about my own loss? Temporarily, perhaps. I had unwittingly made myself a knight in armor, and this was the price I had to pay for heroism. Emotional turmoil.

out of the ashes, we rise again

Old habits die hard, but it's painfully easy to pull the walls back into place. The mare's touch brought me back to reality, and the stupidity of my actions struck me at once. As quickly as I had approached I made my retreat, stepping back from her, brain working frantically to regain composure, and failing. There was something in the brush of her feathers across my shoulders, the innocent yet intrusive gesture, which sent me reeling back into my shell of stone. Why? I had not asked for her comfort- had not asked for comfort at all, really. Sure, I'd been unpleasantly surprised by news of Andromeda's fall, but a breath of concern was hardly invitation for physical intimacy.

But the girl did not know that. Too kind, too naive; she could not see the futility of her actions, the weakness of her heart. I was a stallion ruined by loss, and she a mare with fresh, vibrant eyes. Yet here I was acting the drama queen while she stood solid, a stubborn warmth in our awkward bubble. Fortunate child, to have been spared the loss of home and heart; foolish child, to think that life would always be bright. I blinked slowly, letting out a silent sigh.

My face had regained its usual expressionless quality by the time she finished speaking, though a thin line of discomfort fell across my brow. A broken wing was no light wound; I felt sorry for the starlit mare. She did not deserve such a fate, but then, she was alive and recovering, leaving little for me to do. I had nothing to do now but leave, get on with my life and find some land completely devoid of females.

If only it was that easy.

The girl's suggestion of a visit had struck discordantly within my ears, the suggestion of a visit made more disagreeable by the fact that I wanted it. I shook my head a little too vigorously, wings rustling against my back. "There is no need; we are not friends." The words are hard, with a touch of the bitterness that has haunted me these past years. Well, we aren't. No matter. I nod slightly at the mare, a curt movement of finality. "It is good to know she is cared for," I added gruffly, long tail brushing inelegantly upon the sand. I had no doubt she would send me away now that I had received the information I sought, that she would be glad to see the last of me. And of course, the thought was quickly followed by a loud, uninvited rumble from the depth of my barrel. When was the last time I'd eaten? Not recently enough, I supposed. Gods, I'm starving. In the middle of a desert. Brilliant.

[ ooc | awkward :| idek. sorry ]

out of the ashes, we rise again

She laughed at me, her blue eyes vibrant with some secret amusement I could not begin to fathom. It was certainly not the response I had anticipated. There was no malice in her voice, no exasperation- why? Why wasn't she angry, insulted, or just straight up tired of me? I was certainly growing tired of her, her buoyant good nature and refusal to acknowledge that there was more to life than simple delight. I frowned; laughter was an inappropriate response to our exchange, her smile a mockery of my simple desire to check up on the safety of a recently invaded herd. Looking back, I was almost infantile in my stubborn desire to hold on to the aloof illusion of despair and agony I had wrapped myself in for so long, but at the moment I felt only a tingling sense of irritation for the friendly little mare. I was finding Onni more confusing by the moment, and not enjoying it. But then again, with that stick lodged so far up my ass, it was a wonder I ever enjoyed any company.

And still, still, the most irritating part of it all was the fact that I cared. I had come here because I cared, though how much and for what was still a mystery. Not enough to call the starlit mare my friend- more selfish than that was the basis of my regard. Yet enough to risk my comfort and freedom, to take a chance at encountering the hostility or grappling desire of strangers. Andromeda was nothing to me, only a whisper of a promise barely held, largely invented, and yet that was more than anyone had been in many a season. Did that make her my friend?

Hardly. It made her a girl I wanted to rescue from a fate I'd experienced, an unfortunate soul who had shown some kindness to a stallion who liked to repay his debts, a fellow pegasus faced with the glower of a common enemy. My face was stern, ears flicking back in quiet dissatisfaction as her peal of mirth faded into the night sky. How Onni was supposed to have known any of that is beyond me, but this fact did not lessen my irritation at her persistent insistence that I was a friend.

It is doubtful that the rumble of my stomach aided in solidifying my stance as someone who was not to be trifled with. I watched her smile bloom again, amusement clashing with the stubborn stone in my own eyes. Betrayed by my body, what a horrible way to fall- yet I knew this to be a fall I would not recover from. I watched the girl and knew that she knew that she had won. It was not worth fighting. I sighed. I should leave now, my mind said tiredly. This whole venture has been a disaster.

Although I would be grateful later, In that moment I cursed whatever it was that stayed my hooves, prevented the spread of earthen wings. Why could I not leave well enough alone, abandon this forsaken desert and never come back, as had been my initial plan? Why was I weak?

"I do not know what faith you put into the word friend, that you throw it around so." The harshness was gone from my voice, replaced by a tired resignation to the infallible cheerfulness of Onni. The trill of a whistle brought my attention to her wing, and for the first time I noticed the songbird perched upon her shoulder. Blind and deaf, my father would have said- what sort of soldier was I, to be so unobservant? His reprimand would have been accompanied by a nip to my withers or a light kick on the hock, and the roaring laughter of a stallion full of life. Bittersweet and meloncholy, the memory left a shallow scar in its wake, a silence resounding through my head that I quickly filled with vapid words. I nodded towards her shoulder, turning my gaze to the little songbird. "Who is your... companion?"

out of the ashes, we rise again

The girl smiled that stupidly brilliant grin, and simply wouldn't stop. It was almost nauseating, her ridiculous attachment to a disposition of sunshine and rainbows in a world so cruel, and I was beginning to grow a little afraid that some hitherto unnoticed insanity lurked behind those lovely blue eyes. Great, a crazy mare, exactly what I needed- and one swearing undeserved fealty to me. Sure, there was something to be said for her persistent voice, the insufferable happiness that permeated the air around her. Its not like I could fault her for being optimistic and trusting. Too few are like that in this jaded era, and really, from an objective standpoint, her determination to befriend a bitter and grizzled stallion was quite the adorable quest. Didn't hurt that she was such a pretty thing, all chocolate and cream and those colorful beads catching the light just right...

The mare's cheeky apology knocked me out of my momentary stupor. I blinked, hard, and gave myself a mental kick: I had sunk into a daze of sorts, my attention snagged by the stupid glow of hers. You have to understand, though: the charms of a pretty girl would work on anyone, and I had always been weak to a mare's blue eyes. Onni was a persistent minx, though ironically she had no idea of this fact, and every moment spent in her presence made me more and more bemused. I shifted my jaw and hoped it had not grown visibly slack, wings rustling self consciously upon my stony sides, and wondered what to do now. Caught between wanting to stay and needing to leave, I'd been in limbo for the entirety of my visit with the damnable girl. All I'd wanted was to make sure Andromeda was okay. This seemed a truly unfit punishment for such a noble pursuit.

"Lyhty"

And there it was again, the girl's simple delight at something so small. The little bird perched so delicately upon her painted wing was a distracting thing, and I was grateful to be pulled from my thoughts. Lyhty, I repeated in silence, playing with the name that seemed strangely apt. The title granted to the little bird brought up more awkwardness, though - it made me realize that I did not know her name, had not even thought to ask it. Was it too late now, and was I fated to wander after her in ignorance and feign familiarity until I heard it spewed from another's mouth? Some friendship, I thought dryly. Off to a really meaningful start. I wasn't going to ask now, I decided. Might as well never know. It's not like I intended to see her again.

But Onni was a step ahead of me, and as soon as I'd resolved not to know her name, she offered it on a silver platter. I was grateful when she spun around and could not catch the flash of exasperation that tugged my ears back and curled my nostrils, and even more irritatingly self-conscious when she turned back and I had to scramble to control my wayward face. Food for a name, what a bargain - and even as the persistent growl of hunger rolled through my gut I wanted to decline, to refuse her games and keep my name secret, clung close to my chest along with the last of my decency and self respect. She didn't get it, did she? She had no comprehension - none! - of what the world was, of the existence of darkness, of the terror of nights and fire and the scream of a dying family.

"Eribor."

...Balls. Where the hell had mine gone?

And yet there I was, following her, taking sturdy strides to pull alongside my enormously frustrating companion. Because, despite all my anger and pain and grief, my conflicting feelings and desire for self-inflicted misery, I was lonely. And she was kind. And Earth take it all, I was tired. "Have you always lived here?" I asked her gruffly, refusing to make eye contact and hoping she would play along rather than rub my weakness in my face. One ill word and I was out of there. I was only going because I was hungry, and lost, and it seemed a shame to pass up an opportunity to find food. That was the only reason. Clearly.

@[Onni]

out of the ashes, we rise again

A dent in the girl's cheerfulness, almost imperceptible, floated right over my head and into the stratosphere. Dense as I have almost been and self-centered as I once was, the idea that this beacon of disgustingly good nature could have suffered a loss such as mine - a loss greater than mine, for she had endured it twice - was never for a moment entertained. I had suffered, I was jaded with a thick and impenetrable cloak of bitter fury, a self-righteous anger that I had earned through flame and sorrow. And she, she was everything I had once been, once wanted, so jovial and lovely and bright with naivete.

If I had known then what she had gone through...

But I did not know, I did not even suspect. I plodded after her and scorned her lilting voice, ears lying back as the topic turned once more towards me. Her words brought out a bark of laughter, wry and mirthless in the desert air. "Hardly," I replied, gaze cast out and searching the horizon. "I've been here a few days, and all I've met so far are nosy mares." As you may have guessed, that last bit was an attempt to lighten the mood- a stupid one, of course, begrudging and coarse. Moron. I considered softening the edge with a charming grin, thought better of it, and in the end looked upon her with a lopsided smile, a strained expression that spoke of my discomfort. I had not made a joke in some time, and my skills were, predictably, quite rusty.

"How far?" I asked, trying to detract from my failed attempt at humor. For the umpteenth time I offered a silent damnation of the pretty girl and her bright smile, the bright face upon which no scar could shadow cast. My voice was gruff, some of its guard returned, but my resolve had been weakened by my surrender to her stubbornness. I could see a blessed patch of green looming not far ahead, but whether or not it was our destination I did not know. I could only hope- for in that moment all I wanted was to stuff my face and rest my tired limbs and relax. I had a stick up my ass a mile wide, and it was only exacerbated by the state of perpetual exhaustion I had remained in for nearly a season.

out of the ashes, we rise again