She is an island unto herself.
She has grown used to the solace, used to tucking herself away in all the places no one looks for company. It’s safer that way, she reasons. I can’t hurt those I haven’t met, she tells herself. And it is true, that the gatekeeper of War should keep away in case she fails. She should stay gone so as not to run into the other seal-holders and reunite that which lay within each of their breasts. Beqanna is not ready for another catastrophe, another Reckoning to shake and rattle the world senseless. When she thinks of going home, Titanya remembers the yellow eyes of Conquest, feels the emptiness of her belly and dryness of her throat before Famine. She remembers the cracking crunch of her skull under Death’s hooves before what she thought was the end.
She stays away as long as she can to protect them. But it angers her, like most things eventually do. It starts with a drop of a thought; why should she be punished for doing the right thing? The thoughts multiply until they are an ocean of regret roiling inside of her, until she can stay away no longer. As summer begins to burn the ground with its heat, the sabino welcomes its fire on her back, the first she’s felt of the open sky in ages. She leaves the wilderness and goes home, ready to face whatever waits there after so many lonely years.
Early fall peppers the undulating land before her, sprinkling pale yellows and tangerine oranges throughout the flora. The meadow is exactly the same as it has always been, full of eager faces all pressed together in conversations new and old alike. Titanya rolls her eyes from the shadows of the bordering forest. She could have gone longer without the meaningless banter that Beqannans seem so fond of. What she wants is action, a release from all the pent-up energy she’s never without. The placid meadow is not where she will find it, the mare knows, but maybe she can spend a little time before sinking her teeth in.
She concentrates on the large oak she’s been hiding behind and passes through it to the open space beyond. The brown grass at her feet holds no appeal, even as her stomach rumbles its’ protest to her long journey. Never having been one to ignore her base needs, she moves deeper into the expanse in search of a more appetizing meal. Just ahead, a boulder conceals the last tall shoots with any hint of green left. The dark mare dives in immediately. She gorges herself all while looking out for any would-be interrupters with furtive, amber eyes. Let them come, she thinks mischievously, flicking her tail in imagined agitation. I could use a welcoming rumble.
Titanya
I've got no roots,
but my home was never on the ground
@[Terran]