Nyryn remembered what the winter's were like in Beqanna; she had been born here, just after the cold spells after all. The white backdrop bought back many memories for the blue roan; most of which were sad, sad and angry. Still after all the years that had gone by, she wondered what Beqanna was like, she wondered if her mother was still around. A large part of her, the bitter, cold part, wanted her to have curled up and disappeared into the earth. That would have been the best thing for the deaf mute. Another part of her, the softer side that she tried and tried to disperse, still thought of her sisters, her mother. What happened to them all, she wondered? Her sister, Lye, she would still be around. Gifted (or cursed) with immortality meant she would still be crossing the threshold of earth, until... until one could not cope anymore. The blue mare often thought of it; the loneliness that struck her, deep and harsh like a knife, into her heart, her soul. She felt the loneliness tugging her over the edge, and often she would stand by a cliffside, her wings rippling in the breeze and she contemplated what would happen if she just.. jumped.

But that wasn't to often. She grew bitter in the years after leaving Beqanna, and now back on the land's doorstep, she still felt the bitterness ache within her chest. her black wings coiled tightly to her bodice as she landed, smack bang in the heart of the Field. She'd come by here timeless occasions, just looked, never spoke. Her tongue remained silent, her mind open. It was that aching, tugging loneliness that was stabbing within her, that made her change directions from the Beach, to the Field. That was when Nyryn heard the call.

Her black tipped ears turned, flickered and then heard it again. Her wings unfurled and she shook off the remains of dusty snow. Her nasal passages flared, flared strongly and inhaled deeply, she drew a breath and lifted herself; walking in the snow was never her thing, in fact, walking just ever cut it for her. She was gifted with these ebony feathers, so she would use them. Nyryn tossed her head, spotting the steed just below her. She hovered for a minute and watched him. He kept calling, his tone almost urgent. she blew a soft nicker and automatically pinned her ears -- interaction with others she had not done for a few years, a loner, a vagabond, just a drifter, a lone snowflake upon the breeze.

Maybe it was time for a change.

She landed just infant of the piebald stallion, her wings fluttering, furling and neatly pressing back into her blue roan body. Her mismatched eyes, one blue, one brown, they took in the steed with a curiosity that she hadn't felt for years.

"Call any louder and you'll wake the dead." Nyryn chuckled and took a few steps forward but then a few to the side, never getting too close to a stranger. "Why the urgency?"

Nyryn's lips tweaked a little into a smooth smile but it appeared more like a smirk; perhaps the steed was not expecting such an entrance, she forgot sometimes that not everyone in the world had wings, let alone flew on the air currants. He stammered a little and she gave her wings a gentle ruffle, the pesky snow was still falling in dribs and drabs and was peppering her dark blue body with a dusting of white. He was nervous, it made her snort, made her mind tick over with all the possible witty and sarcastic comebacks, but instead she made a realisation. The reason she was alone? probably her attitude. she flicked her tail, it glided over her loins, her flanks in a lazy way.

"Nervous, a strapping steed like you? I could never believe it." she chuckled, it came out in clouds of frosty white as she decided to take another few steps to the side, watching him with her blue eye as he curiously looked at her wings. she demonstrated a little, always a bit dramatic. The black wings stretched out, not fully, but just to see the tufty feathers in their true light; a bit moth-eaten in places and torn from her many ventures in the sky, but they still did the trick.

"A Queen?" a proverbial brow rose and she ruffled her wings back, closer to her bodice. "Rather forward aren't you? You'd have any old floozy running at you with those sorts of words." she paused, tilted her head a little to one side and curiously took him in again. Be nice. Be gentle. Nyryn remembered to hold herself a little better.

"A curse, a blessing. I'm not sure which to take them as, but they are mine. I was born with them" The mare answers, listening with twitching black tipped ears as he asked for her name. Names, already? This was possibly the longest conversation the winged mare has had in her existence, which didn't result in one of the parties running, or flying off -- mostly being her.

"Nyryn. I'm Nyryn."

Memories flood her mind; the sweet oranges, the orchards and their canopies of shadow on the hot, blistering summer days. The tang of the citrus in the air; it was home for a while and even back then, she was alone, with a herd full of mares, of children and the kind-hearted steed Hakeem, she was alone. Orange County was a beautiful place. She missed it's beauty, it's sweet and tangy aroma. But what Nyryn really missed was a home, somewhere safe to rest her head, somewhere where she didn't have to look behind her to see if there were wolves, or predators at her heels.

"You think mares are gifts? Wrapped up in a silky bow, all presented to you." the blue mare paused and gave a low chuckle, her poll bobbed with the movement as it rocked her body. "I've never heard that one before." A black hoof stomped casually, sinking into the cold earth, the white covering her limb up to her fetlocks.

"The Forests? I used to pass over them when I was younger," She paused, her eyes blinking thoughtfully, her wings gently shifting in the breeze. "Much younger." she emphasised with a click of her tongue but continued on his train of thought. Had he got a home? a herd? a quaint little border with a cosy little nook? the thoughts dazzled and blinded her for a moment but she continued. "Are they still beautiful, the forests?"

"Thank you." She paused, "Compliments. I'm not used to them. But thank you. You have... exceptional manners?" her tail flicked idly behind her, dancing at her hocks. "What do they call you, oh painted one?"

She listened to him, her ears finely tuned to his words. This was a big step for the blue roan, to listen, to be in the same vicinity as another for longer than few moments. Yet he she was, talking, listening, expressing. Her wings ruffle in the icy breeze and she realised that maybe she was getting older, not only in her body but her mind. her salt and pepper mane blows, as the cold wind tangled with flurries of snow.

"The Spirit Walker?" Nyryn asked, her tongue tasting the name, the title. She gave a light chuckle, a wispy nicker. "Believe me, Spirit Walker, nothing is weird here. You're looking at a strange specimen, after all." my words were bittersweet. these wings, a curse, a gift. The immortality in her veins that kept her going, kept her on this forsaken world, whether it be alone or with a companion. What would it be like to watch something you love die? She never had the thought occur to her, but the longer she spoke to this painted steed, the more she thought about it. He had a method in his madness, coming here. but would she leave with him? The idea seemed flawed. Her, the loner, the forgotten? the grey within the black and white: could she leave with this steed and be considerably happy?

"Beqanna welcomes the weird, the wonderful. I suppose you've found your home." Nyryn's tone is lighter -- the lightest it's been in a long time. Yet the burdens of her life carry on her shoulders. She stretches her neck forward, inhaling the musk of the steed.

"They call me the lost. They call me the wanderer, but my mother named me Nyryn. the grey, the in-between." Her black tail flicked by her hocks, silently she watched him, her ideas forming in her mind.

"Do you have a companion, a friend?"

What is it like... to have a friend... to have a companion... She thought to herself, remembering Hakeem and her mother, remembering the care, the love that the golden painted stallion had offered her deaf-mute mother. He had been a blessing for the Arabian mare, part of Nyryn wished to thank him for his kindness to her also, but she was certain he was no longer of this forsaken earth. She wondered if maybe it was time to try and make amends with the world, try and be happy.

Maybe she was staring the chance of happiness right in the face.

NYRYN;
charon x locket
immortal & winged
into the endless grey