[open] it was an honest mistake;

[Ethenia]

"i don't care for your sweet scent or, the way you want me more than i want you" While they are both wanderers, there is something strikingly resolute about the stallion that she does not recognize in herself. It is his stoicism, perhaps, that gives her the sense that he is centered—he seems sure of himself, unwavering. Where she is a wayward wisp of light, he is calm, steadfast. An anchor in the storm. The faint breeze might fold her into herself and carry her away. And perhaps it has, perhaps the light of the moon has consumed her and returned her to the ground, night after night. How else did she end up here? Sometimes, she cannot recall how she came to be, or where she was before. Eadoin is still despite her curious touch, and for a time she continues to question whether he is real. He is unmoved, as far as her eye can see. Ethenia has not known true sadness before as anything more than an abstract concept, but she imagined that it would taste something like this. “I think I know what you mean, feeling like a ghost,” she begins. “How could we tell if we were?” she pauses, considering. “I cannot remember anything before this. Sometimes I cannot remember much of this world, either. Maybe it does not matter if we are.” The moonlight wanes behind rolling clouds, darkening the night further. Ethenia’s silver body shudders slightly, not quite fearful, but a measure less comfortable than before. Somehow, she always felt safer in the moonlight. As if it was the only place she ever belonged. “If heaven would not accept you, I would not be welcomed either.” She says decisively, though she has little evidence to support the feeling. When he asks if she will stay, Ethenia looks upward to meet his eyes once more. Although he is a shield guarding himself vigilantly, he does see her, and at once, she realizes this. She can feel it, the way a child is seen for the first time, and then does not know who she is unless someone else tells her.  ”Perhaps we could be ghosts together, for a while,” she suggests quietly, a thread of uncharacteristic shyness weaving through her voice. “I… have never had a true home.” It is a question, but she does not know where to begin. -- ethenia. -- it was an honest mistake

@Eadoin