burning cities and napalm skies; anyone

[Starlin]

STARLIN grit and grace. A cold winter wind is not the best portent of her journey, but it is what Starlin heads south with. The once summer-sleek sides of the grullo filly are now thick with winter coat, a paltry shield against the icy chill of the mountain passes. The cliffs of Nerine have slid into the peaks of Hyaline some distance behind her, but the tobiano filly is too occupied with finding shelter to care about borders. She ends up stopping rather close to the edge of the kingdom after all, in a narrow pass. The wind whistles overhead, but fallen trees provide a windbreak, and Starlin nestles into the somewhat charred smelling shelter, the ash scent weak against a few years worth of regrowth. Lowering her head to the ground, she prepares to wait out the storm.

[Amet]

if there's a light at the end, it's just the sun in your eyes

Amet's usually thin frame has grown thinner since the end of autumn, goaded that way by Ciri's departure and his own inability to move beyond what had happened between them. His gold and bronze scales have dulled from malnourishment and his amber eyes have sunken into the hollows of his face. The leather-plated King has refused to speak much on the matter, partly due to his preference for skulking when upset, but mostly because Ciri had been his only real confidante. Even Tangerine had departed from Beqanna, restless with her wanderlust, and these worries of his are not ones that he would like to place on Solace when she has a much greater weight on her shoulders now.

After his trip to Ischia with the blue-tinted girl to congratulate Circinae on her acquisition (where he had hoped to see, but also not to see, his starry-eyed girl), the King of Hyaline had asked Solace to continue with another diplomatic visit on her own while he returned to their home to guard its borders. He has been doing just that ever since, hiding in the peaks of Hyaline's surrounding mountains instead of spending time near his beloved lake as he would have normally.

It's cooler up here with strong gusts of wind and frosted earth. He hates the cold and would much rather be down by the lake, where the climate is still temperate and snow is altogether nonexistent. But it doesn't feel right, and so here he is, nestled beneath the boughs of an evergreen when the rhythmic sound of hooves resounds from the passage to his left.

Amet's heart skips a beat, his breath held in hopes that Ciri will appear. It's a young grullo filly instead, and while the gilded King is disappointed, he finds it in him to smile sadly at the young girl as he nickers to draw her attention. "It's much warmer near the lake, if you'd like me to show you the way," he offers to the shivering girl.

Amet

@[Starlin]

[Starlin]

STARLIN grit and grace. His subjects hold him in high regard – too high, it seems. Perhaps they feel it inappropriate to mention to the dragon king, but Starlin has no such qualms. He is not the Dragon King to her after all, he is simply a very sad looking stallion. Once, she had found a body washed up on the beach of Nerine. Starlin had told no one about it, but she had visited it for weeks, memorizing the shape of the bones as they emerged from the rotting flesh. She knows where they are connected, where they are weak. The knowledge has never come in handy (but how vital it will become when she begins to fight!), but she does eye the protruding bones of the scaled stallion’s hip with open curiosity. He is scaled like Guardian Lior and Prince Castile. He invites her to warmth, and she is too cold to be cautious. In better conditions she would hesitate to trust a stranger, especially a stranger in a strange kingdom. But she only nods, and gives him a teeth-chattering: “Y-y-yes please. I’d like t-t-to be warmer,” that is punctuated with shivers.

[Amet]

if there's a light at the end, it's just the sun in your eyes

His smile warms at the filly's stuttered response and his own spine is affected by an uncomfortable shiver. "Come," he says gently to her before pivoting his thin frame back towards the center of Hyaline. Periodically, he looks over his gilded shoulder to be sure the grullo filly hasn't fallen behind. The shale path soon transforms to softer loam, where the steep mountainside becomes a pleasantly rolling hill and Amet picks his conversation with the visiting filly back up.

"My name is Amet. What brings you to Hyaline?" he inquires as the frost disappears and the gusting winds die down to a gentle squall. He flutters his ears towards the filly, curious of where she has come and where she had planned on going. She smells briny, like winds off a granite cliff just the way he remembers Nayl and Castile had, and his interest is piqued.

They happen upon the lake after a few more minutes of walking and Amet sighs contentedly at the sight of it.

Amet

@[Starlin]

[Starlin]

STARLIN grit and grace. While young Starlin is the very picture of loyalty, there has never been any doubt that she has an independent streak. Hyaline is not Nerine’s favorite kingdom of the moment, but there is still value to the mountain realm. They had made a haven up here, Starlin has heard, a land where those who want to learn can do so. She has already ravenously consumed everything her mother had to teach her; she is ready for more. The horses of the north tend to look alike, an odd twist of fate. They are dark horses, splashed with white, a monochrome crew in their sandy grey kingdom. Starlin is no exception, and her grey and white shoulders shiver as they descend the mountain. She’d not have been able to find this path herself, she knows, and she is grateful that this bronze creature had appeared to show her the way. The air around them warms considerably, and Starlin is shaking the last of the dripping ice from her dark mane when the stallion introduces himself. @[Amet]? This was Amet? He doesn’t look strong enough to face down a coyote, let alone a furious Nayl. Has he always looked like this? Surely not. The filly is frowning as she watches him, and an uncomfortably long silence passes before she responds. “I’m Starlin,” she tells him. “I came here to see if you had any fighting teachers. It’s important to learn different styles.” Parroting back what she has been told is easy. She has done that already, watched the Guardians as they sparred, listened to her mother’s tales of great battle of the past. She has observed Nayl’s battle practice, and has kicked a dent the size of her own head into a piece of driftwood. “Are you a fighter?” She hopes not, she truly does. If she has to starve herself to be a fighter, she just might jump into the lake to avoid it.

[Amet]

if there's a light at the end, it's just the sun in your eyes

The grullo filly pauses before answering him and Amet waits patiently, his amber eyes returning to her from the crystalline lake when she does finally break the silence. Starlin. Her name is unfamiliar and he means to ask where she has come from, but the girl has found her words and he nods enthusiastically. "I do have a fighting teacher," he says casually as he thinks of Chemdog before offering her a small chuckle. "And no, I'm not a fighter." Amet had never truly been angry enough to find for anything. Perhaps when he was younger, yes, but the young colt would not have been able to fight Him even if he had wanted to.

"I believe @[Chemdog] would be a good person for you to talk to," he offers to the young filly with an added smile, and while he still has to force the expression, he is feeling a little bit lighter now. "Have you had any training yet, Starlin?" he inquires with intrigue. He knows that Nayl is an experienced fighter ─ perhaps the pied Queen had spent time with Starlin. There were few teachers in Beqanna who could best Nayl.

"I can help you find him now, if you'd like."

Amet

@[Starlin] ─ Next one will be better -_-