An Undefined Soul; Any

[Librette]

As a child you would wait, and watch from far away. But you always knew you'd be the one to work while they all play. Age. What is it to Librette? What is growing older to a mare that has died and returned? To a mare who is now far older than she ever should be, whose mysterious heart simply refuses to stop beating? Whose reassembled corpse just never quite seems to fall to ruin again? Oh yes, she is far older than she should be, and far less wise. She has seen, and been, and done so many things over the span of her years that it routinely blows the mind of the many young horses she's had occasion to speak with since her most recent return. She is living history, really. And that alone must mean that her days are numbered. But today is not her last day. Tomorrow will not be either. And even when she is gone, even when she finally fades to dust, the Valley will endure beyond her. The Valley is, and always has been, her everything. It has been her lover, taking the place of many stallions who might have been keen on such a loyal mate. It has also been her child, the one thing that she nurtures with all of her might. And it absolutely has displaced her natural children, turning her into about the worst mother in the world. But this child of hers needs new blood, and she knows it. The Valley feeds on souls, not in the terribly dark way that is usually meant by that statement, but in an almost-benign way. It requires souls to run its machine, it requires warm bodies working together in order to achieve greatness. They had not taken her advice and conquered when their groundswell of strength was greatest, and so they were beginning to fall into silence. And silence is simply unacceptable. And so she finds herself here, at the fringes of the field. It's hard to say what catches her eye about the girl, but perhaps it's that she, too, is ordinary. Librette knows what it is to blend in; her ordinary nature has been her calling card for years. In a world where everyone else stands out, dull chestnut Librette is nothing remarkable. She is background, made to fade away. Well, mostly. Her ordinary body bears two very not-ordinary features. The first feature is her wings, red-tail hawk wings that are gold and red and beautiful, entirely out of place on such an otherwise ordinary mare. She tucks them by her side now as she skirts along the trees, heading toward the hesitant girl and her crowd of would-be recruiters. The second distinctive factor is the scar that slashes across her chest, impossibly white in the face of the rest of her. That's what happens when your heart is (literally) ripped apart and (literally) rebuilt after you've been dead for a few years, apparently. She is the second to arrive (well, unless we're counting the mare herself) and she pulls in just in time to hear the other two introduce themselves and ask the woman's name. Librette nods a gentle greeting, dipping her head in respect. When Kreios finishes speaking, she's quick to follow up. "And I'm Librette, from the Valley. Nice to meet you." Don't weep for me LIBRETTE Because this will be the labor of my love. Image copyright FFFiiiAA