Beneath the smothering darkness, below the twilight dance of purple and midnight blue is Lilliana. The chestnut mare has tucked them in for the night beneath a mighty Oak; a noble tree that would have even made Jay admire it for its quiet strength. It’s a noble piece of Beqanna history, whatever testaments it has seen beneath its branches.
The summer wind sighs through them and the evening song has already started by the time she has finished her story - one of her favorites. A story about the Four Winds and why they blow as they do - how they gallop from all four corners of the known world (this one and others, not just Beqanna) and the changes they tend to bring. She presses an adoring kiss to one, lightly brushes against the flaxen-tufted mane of another while explaining that the West always runs warmest. She tells a story of how his brothers chase him and sometimes they race too fast, so fast that the sound of their clattering hooves can be heard from the heavens!
(The world itself can spiral a little out of control from their thundering - the wind can howl, the heavens bellow and the sparks fly as they try to run each other down.)
She barely has time to get to the moral before one copper boy has laid down his head and the other has already closed his blue eyes. Lilliana is left alone with the endless expanse of evening sky and cricketsong for company. She nearly tucks her legs down to join them, to position her body in a way that prevents Yanhua’s mane from shining out into the night like a guiding star.
It would seem the trio aren’t the only ones out in the Meadow tonight.
There is a girl who has been claimed by the cosmos - starshine dazzling on her coat - and Lilliana can’t help herself. The stars (though they might have fallen silent, though it has been so long since she has any word or sign from them) have always been a friend to her. They have names and families and dreams just as the mortals down here do; she wonders, briefly, if the celestial creature wandering out into the open hears them as Orani once did.
It’s enough of a tug at her past - at her heartstrings - that she is willing to step a few paces away from her colts.
"The night is almost too sweet for dreaming,” Lilliana muses softly to the first mare. She’s teasing but there is no hiding the admiration that illuminates her gaze. Another mare - slight and doe-eyed - stands not far away and the Taigan mare dips her crimson head in greeting before asking, "What has you both awake?”
The summer wind sighs through them and the evening song has already started by the time she has finished her story - one of her favorites. A story about the Four Winds and why they blow as they do - how they gallop from all four corners of the known world (this one and others, not just Beqanna) and the changes they tend to bring. She presses an adoring kiss to one, lightly brushes against the flaxen-tufted mane of another while explaining that the West always runs warmest. She tells a story of how his brothers chase him and sometimes they race too fast, so fast that the sound of their clattering hooves can be heard from the heavens!
(The world itself can spiral a little out of control from their thundering - the wind can howl, the heavens bellow and the sparks fly as they try to run each other down.)
She barely has time to get to the moral before one copper boy has laid down his head and the other has already closed his blue eyes. Lilliana is left alone with the endless expanse of evening sky and cricketsong for company. She nearly tucks her legs down to join them, to position her body in a way that prevents Yanhua’s mane from shining out into the night like a guiding star.
It would seem the trio aren’t the only ones out in the Meadow tonight.
There is a girl who has been claimed by the cosmos - starshine dazzling on her coat - and Lilliana can’t help herself. The stars (though they might have fallen silent, though it has been so long since she has any word or sign from them) have always been a friend to her. They have names and families and dreams just as the mortals down here do; she wonders, briefly, if the celestial creature wandering out into the open hears them as Orani once did.
It’s enough of a tug at her past - at her heartstrings - that she is willing to step a few paces away from her colts.
"The night is almost too sweet for dreaming,” Lilliana muses softly to the first mare. She’s teasing but there is no hiding the admiration that illuminates her gaze. Another mare - slight and doe-eyed - stands not far away and the Taigan mare dips her crimson head in greeting before asking, "What has you both awake?”
LILLIANA
all that i'm after is a life full of laughter
(as long as i'm laughing with you)
but it's all in the past, love
it's all gone with the wind