Lilliana has only met (that she is aware of) two Immortals.
The first had been their healer - a dark unicorn who had gone by the name of Lovelace. She had lived within her father's clan for as long as any of them could remember. The dark mare had taken shelter in a cavern near the edges of Paraiso and as far any horse knew, she had always been there. From Valerio to Ichiro and if the rumors were true, even to the fabled reign of Legado.
She had asked her once. 'Have you always been with us?' She can still remember her laughter - a warm, rushing sound like summer rains - and the knowing look that the unicorn gave her. The smile reached her rich brown eyes and they crinkled at the corners, as if her happiness couldn't be contained in a mere smile. That there was a secret to acquiring it and more importantly, to keeping it. Lilli, who could barely fathom existence beyond her single year, had no concept of immortality. Of what it might mean to never end. 'Always,' Lovelace had said. And the idea that the ebony mare had always been there became concrete. What came before was washed away with the belief that Lovelace's immortality began the moment she came into the golden valley, like her heart hadn't stopped or skipped a beat before then.
The second had been a pale, unassuming (albeit lovely) mare named Ryatah who had once been Queen of the Dale.
She's thought of Ryatah often since their last meeting in Taiga. She's thought of many things lately and usually, the topic of her immortality leaves her bitter. But tonight, Warden makes a morbid joke of it and Lilliana blinks. The smile that etches itself on her dark lips is out of place but a clumsy laugh even manages to follow because the sound of it shocks her. Her vision had blurred for a moment, all those pent-up tears and worries, all those emotions that she isn't quite as adept as the horned stallion at keeping locked away threatening to pour from her blue eyes.
But Lilli doesn't cry. Not tonight.
"Perhaps," she adds. This is what makes them such good friends, isn't it? Warden, who sees the endings, will never see hers. Lilliana can't die and even though the Watcher and his bones will one day turn to dust (as Brazen had turned to stone, as Neverwhere and her scars will, as she fears some of her children will), they forge a bond because this is one burden that Warden will never have to carry. This 'curse' (as he aptly calls it) remains solely her own.
Looking up, she says, "my mother used to have a story about how the stars only went dark because another became light." Aletta and her starlore. She had passed them on to her own children - her fanciful stories - as Neverwhere and Leilan liked to call them (and how Lilliana longed to tell them that there was some truth to them, that if they had only known Orani and Keav, what the star-talkers were capable of). Her blue eyes linger on the silver-blue form of Leonidas, who seemed to be content to hover out of their orbit. "Maybe you and I are really just stars." The idea quirks an edge of a grin that fights against the edge of their somber conversation. "You'd make a rather grand constellation."
The first had been their healer - a dark unicorn who had gone by the name of Lovelace. She had lived within her father's clan for as long as any of them could remember. The dark mare had taken shelter in a cavern near the edges of Paraiso and as far any horse knew, she had always been there. From Valerio to Ichiro and if the rumors were true, even to the fabled reign of Legado.
She had asked her once. 'Have you always been with us?' She can still remember her laughter - a warm, rushing sound like summer rains - and the knowing look that the unicorn gave her. The smile reached her rich brown eyes and they crinkled at the corners, as if her happiness couldn't be contained in a mere smile. That there was a secret to acquiring it and more importantly, to keeping it. Lilli, who could barely fathom existence beyond her single year, had no concept of immortality. Of what it might mean to never end. 'Always,' Lovelace had said. And the idea that the ebony mare had always been there became concrete. What came before was washed away with the belief that Lovelace's immortality began the moment she came into the golden valley, like her heart hadn't stopped or skipped a beat before then.
The second had been a pale, unassuming (albeit lovely) mare named Ryatah who had once been Queen of the Dale.
She's thought of Ryatah often since their last meeting in Taiga. She's thought of many things lately and usually, the topic of her immortality leaves her bitter. But tonight, Warden makes a morbid joke of it and Lilliana blinks. The smile that etches itself on her dark lips is out of place but a clumsy laugh even manages to follow because the sound of it shocks her. Her vision had blurred for a moment, all those pent-up tears and worries, all those emotions that she isn't quite as adept as the horned stallion at keeping locked away threatening to pour from her blue eyes.
But Lilli doesn't cry. Not tonight.
"Perhaps," she adds. This is what makes them such good friends, isn't it? Warden, who sees the endings, will never see hers. Lilliana can't die and even though the Watcher and his bones will one day turn to dust (as Brazen had turned to stone, as Neverwhere and her scars will, as she fears some of her children will), they forge a bond because this is one burden that Warden will never have to carry. This 'curse' (as he aptly calls it) remains solely her own.
Looking up, she says, "my mother used to have a story about how the stars only went dark because another became light." Aletta and her starlore. She had passed them on to her own children - her fanciful stories - as Neverwhere and Leilan liked to call them (and how Lilliana longed to tell them that there was some truth to them, that if they had only known Orani and Keav, what the star-talkers were capable of). Her blue eyes linger on the silver-blue form of Leonidas, who seemed to be content to hover out of their orbit. "Maybe you and I are really just stars." The idea quirks an edge of a grin that fights against the edge of their somber conversation. "You'd make a rather grand constellation."
Remember when our songs were just like prayers
Like gospel hymns that you caught in the air?
@[Warden] i don't know what this is but i spited the bot
but it's all in the past, love
it's all gone with the wind