[open] it's me who's been making the bed

[Everclear]

Springtime touches the Gates with a familiar grace that reminds him of times long past. Everclear surveys it in silence, standing amid the newly colored hills as a solitary, stony-colored sentinel. This feels habitual, despite the stark contrasts – the different weight of the air, the general emptiness of the kingdom (if it could still be called that), the heavy permanence of eternity etching further into his bones. He hadn't lived in Heaven's Gates for long, if compared to others, but he'd fought hard enough to call it home in his mind.

He looks upon it all and wonders, like many times past, what might be in store for him now.

Beqanna is nothing if not unpredictable, as most clearly evident in the changes he observes now. The distant field of lavender with its giant arboreal keeper, the abundance of colorful flora throughout, the peculiar specks of glowing creatures here and there – its simple beauty is almost otherworldly.

The same could be said for the mare who wanders into view some distance away. Her pale coat stands out brightly against the green backdrop and blue sky beyond, the dark trees in the distance. Second only to her bright countenance is the rather lively bloom she seems to inspire with her every step. Flowers wake to greet her, shoots rise to meet her, and Everclear’s ears perk in curiosity.

It’s not until he approaches her, slowly and with a gentle chuff in non-verbal greeting, that he notices the halo she seems to wear is thanks to the curved horns around her brow. They are mostly shrouded by the flowery crown, but their glow permeates all the same. She seems nearly ethereal. The flowers in her hair remind him somewhat of his daughters, how he knotted little sprigs of forget-me-nots and yellow wood sorrels into their forelocks. But those had always faded and fallen, where this mare’s were more persistent.

“Are you a nymph, or a dryad?” he asks her plainly when he is near enough, somewhat relying on his youthful appearance to allow for the naivete in the question. He is yet unaware that there are, in fact, dryadic horses wandering the lands now, but the relevance to his association is clear enough in his mind. She is clothed in the garb of the earth around her and thus must be some kind of nature spirit.

E V E R C L E A R

@ Viszla