 The soft glow of the waxing sturgeon moon illuminates the path ahead. Celina is not especially quiet in her movements along this well-traveled path; there is no caution in the curious way she takes in the land around her. Pangea was far preferable at night, the dun filly thinks to herself; without the burning sun there is a sharp tingle to the growing autumn chill. The pale scales of her underbelly are little protection against the temperature, but she moves quickly and the heat of her body in motion is enough to warm her comfortably. It is times like these that she is grateful that she is not entirely cold-blooded.
Though the baked and grassless plain of Pangea spreads out nearly endlessly to her right, the blue-haired filly keeps to the rockier path, the one that twists through the no-man’s land between the Commons and Pangea. Ahead of her are the mountains of Hyaline, visible only as darkness without stars. She’d had plans of reaching the lake at the center of Hyaline by nightfall, but the path she had chosen to take (around the eastern edge of the Mountain rather than the more commonly traveled western river trail) is more strenuous than she had expected, and night has slowly crept around her.
There is a sound in the darkness, and Celina pauses.
Her pink nostrils flare, and the silver-tips of her ears flick round. It does not come again, and so she continues onward. Her only other venture to this land had also ended on the border. She had watched creatures beyond description and crept home, awed. Older now, Celina is wise enough to know to avoid the glittering black Pangean guards when possible. She’s not afraid, or so she tells herself, she is just saving her energy in case she needs it. The sound comes again – or perhaps a slightly different one.
Celina stops, and calls out into the darkness. “I’m just passing through,” she says to perhaps no one. “I don’t want any trouble.”
celina
i'm that bad type, make-your-mama-sad type
make-your-girlfriend-mad type, might-seduce-your-dad type
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@[Squirt]
She had not meant to follow the older girl, not really. Or, at least, she does not understand that following someone else is not polite. Her curiosity was still such a powerful thing, driving all that she does, and the swirling lights around this stranger drew her in as the day turns to night. Unconsciously, she mimicks this magic. She still does not quite understand her own powers and it responds to her curiosity and her emotions. The fireflies around her, like everything else about the filly, are pure white - so clear that the light they cast her in is cold.
Beyza does not notice this, barely registers the movement of her own fireflies because she’s focused enough on the girl. Who stops after a time, and speaks out into the darkness.
The white filly already knows that Pangea’s guardians are not in the vicinity. She’s not sure she would be if they were - although she knows they won’t harm her she remembers a time just a few moons ago when she had accidentally taken on the shape of those creatures and scared her family when she came back to them in the night.
The words spoken are taken as an invitation and Beyza hurries a little faster to close the gap between them - her white fireflies making her crystalline coat shimmer in their light.
“Where are you passing through to?”
BEYZA
something borrowed into something new |
@[Celina]
In the green-yellow light of her fireflies, Celina’s soft eyes glitter. She peers down (though not too far down) at the bright filly who comes closer. The white filly glows like the moon, but with an intensity far closer to sunlight. Celina must blink the long lashes of her twilight-accustomed eyes, but she does not look away.
“To Pangea,” she says. My family is there.”
It might be a lie, but it doesn’t sound like one. Celina certainly believes it to be true. Her family is there – at least, the part of the family that she wants to see. The rest of them (most of them) she is uninterested in. The scaled filly shivers in another cool gust, but says nothing. She can’t show weakness, she thinks to herself, not even to one so unassuming as the pretty little filly.
How does she keep her coat so white, Celina wonders? Her own is dusty, and frequently splattered in mud. The iridescent shine in her markings hasn’t been seen in months, and the navy tresses are instead mud brown and wound thoroughly with brush and twigs. The glowing fireflies are her sole beauty, and the way they illuminate her protruding teeth with intermittent eerie yellow light casts even that into doubt. Not like the little filly. She is beautiful.
Celina had heard that horses were being taken in the night. Seeing the little false fireflies around the pristine white filly, the girl finally understands why. Celina would like to have fireflies like this, in every color, and surely taking the girl with her everywhere would be the best way to achieve that. Of course, she’d need to be sure that there are other colors, of course, because she knows all too well how boring a single color can be after a year.
“What other colors can you do?” Can you do orange? She almost asks, the question settles at the tip of her tongue, hidden by the dim light of their respective glows.
celina
i'm that bad type, make-your-mama-sad type
make-your-girlfriend-mad type, might-seduce-your-dad type
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@[Beyza]
The explanation is taken in without fuss - Beyza knows that there are more faces living in Pangea than the small corner she has met. It does not surprise her to learn that there are other families living within these canyons and foothills.
This older girl looks as though she lives adventurously, though Beyza wonders whether she has a mother to encourage her to go swim and wash off mud every now and then. Only chance stops her from asking this blunt question - she misses her chance because this other girl asks one first.
Beyza tilts her head and blinks her white eyes at the fireflies that surround her and their pure white light.
She only tries to do one other colour, a warm yellow like those of this stranger’s, but the fireflies around her explode in a flash and suddenly, the two girls and the rocky landscape around them are illuminated by thousands of little lights - in every colour you can imagine. Her eyes widen a little bit and a small gasp escapes her, though she’s frustrated more than she is impressed - her magic never does what she wants it to do. She doesn't know yet that it is reacting to her desire to make this stranger happy, hoping that one of these colours is her favourite. “I guess I can.” She states a little sheepishly, her glow diminishing slightly now that the world around them is - at least for now - cascaded in rainbow light.
She does not mention that this is not what she wanted to do, and tries to act as though she is not unnerved by the spectacle by attempting to change the subject. “I live in Pangea, I can help you find your family… if you like.”
BEYZA
something borrowed into something new |
@[Celina]
There’s a shadow of focus on the younger girl’s face, and Celina waits. Some things are harder than others, and she’s no idea how difficult making lights might be. Her fireflies make their own light; she need only direct them where to fly with the least-focused of thoughts.
Celina knows the struggle of controlling magics when young, and she supposes she should be grateful that the girl in front of her seems to have a solid grasp on her gift. The same was not true for Celina growing up, and nor was it so for her siblings. Maybe fear of the monsters elicits better control, she thinks. Are the monsters frightening to those who live here though, she wonders? Is the appearance of glowing girl in front of her a façade? Mistrust of both emotion and her vision come naturally to the scaled creature, but her flaring nostrils catch nothing, and the soft steps of the filly sound just like a filly’s steps should. (Not that Celina has ever heard a monster walking, but surely she would know if she did).
The thought of monsters disappears as the rainbow appears. A thousand little bits of light, every color she could name and even more that she cannot. Celina smiles, thrilled by the dozen shades of orange glowing just to her left. At them she smiles fondly, and only then seems to realize that these lights make her shadow-skulking a wasted effort, for now she stands in a veritable spotlight.
“Now everyone will know we are here,” she says dryly, though her tone of voice does not quite match the expression on her face. She is truthfully delighted by the rainbow of lights. To see it nearly anywhere else would be a marvel. Yet now, illuminated by aan eye-catching, prismatic glow while she stands at the edge of the monster’s lair, the glory of the spectacle is naturally dulled. “Could you turn them off, please?” She does not sound concerned (be prepared for everything, she hears her father’s voice saying, and you will never be surprised), only curious.
“Have you seen a yellow stallion?” She asks, “with a long white mane and stripe like…” Celina twists her head over her shoulder and sees that: yes, her iridescent stripes are just visible enough through the dust of her coat “stripes like mine, but blue?” That he can change himself Celina does not mention. He returned to the shape she knew when she was with him, and so she assumes that he wears it most often. “His name is Wolfbane,” she tells the white filly. “and I am Celina.”
celina
i'm that bad type, make-your-mama-sad type
make-your-girlfriend-mad type, might-seduce-your-dad type
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@[Beyza]
For Beyza, having everyone know they were here is not an issue and she does not react to the dry tone of the older girl - she’s far too busy being dazzled by the sight of all the lights around them. But the stranger draws her attention with the question that follows, and then the young filly visibly droops, some of the lights even follow and drop a little closer to the ground. “Why?” She frowns, her tail flicking behind her in a small show of agitation. “You want to find someone, now they can find you too.” It made perfect sense to her to stay as visible as possible when looking for someone.
But of course, even as she says that, the lights start winking out one colour at a time until only the white ones closest to her remain. Beyza is disappointed by this turn of events and scowls a little at this small betrayal by the lights - if her magic should do anything it should be what she wants - isn’t it? But she does her best to shrug it off.
It helps that Celina introduces herself and explains who she is looking for, but though it is a welcome distraction the description - though certainly curious - does not ring any bells. “I’m Beyza,” She replies first, because it feels polite to respond to the introduction, but then she is shaking her head. “And no one like that lives here.” She replies with more confidence than she should. She’s young enough to not quite understand the scope of the world, that there are those in Pangea she has not yet seen and that the world is very big outside of these canyons.
BEYZA
something borrowed into something new |
@[Celina]
The girl withers at Celina’s request, and her body twitches just slightly in agitation. Celina is unconcerned, and waits expectantly until the lights around them begin to blink out. First the reds go, then the oranges and yellows. They fade in an order that reminds her of a rainbow, or would if she could still remember the order of the colors. Celina had known them once, known them and a great many other facts and trivialities. She probably still knows them, if she is being truthful with herself, but they are tucked away in the back of her mind with all the other useless things: empathy, altruism, the history of the first Nerinian Empire.
The visible disappointment at being asked to get rid of the light does not sway Celina. Rather, it is the wrongness of the girl’s assumption. Thinking like that is dangerous; it will make the little girl easy prey.
It doesn’t occur to Celina that perhaps the monsters that live in the wasteland do not hunt their own.
“I don’t want other things to find me.” She answers, satisfied by the handful of white lights that now illumine them both. It would be easy enough to outrun the younger filly danger came near, Celina reasons, or even to take off into the night. For now though, it’s safe enough to talk. Her ears do still flick, and her sea-green eyes dart away, but most of her attention is on the girl who tells her that her father is not here.
No one like that lives here, Beyza says. Celina, aware of her father’s incredible repertoire, is not discouraged in the slightest.
“He’s wearing a different shape then,” Wolfbane’s daughter knows, “but he knows I’m looking for him.” He’ll find her, the confidence in her voice says; she doesn’t need to inspect each stranger she might find in Pangea in order to find him. With that portion of her quest achieved, Celina can turn her attention to more immediate concerns, such as exactly how the little white filly was making the lights.
“Can you do more than that?” She asks. “Some of my family can make me see things that aren’t there. Are yours real or just pretend?” Her curiousity is almost clinical, one question after the other as she waits for an answer.
celina
i'm that bad type, make-your-mama-sad type
make-your-girlfriend-mad type, might-seduce-your-dad type
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@[Beyza]
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