06-07-2015, 07:57 PM
Oh look, oh my star is fading
She's not antisocial, per se. It's not that she dislikes other horses – on the contrary, she finds them very interesting and terribly fascinating. It's just that she's never really sure how to go about talking to them. How do you start a conversation? What do you talk about? How do you ever know they really want to talk to you? You don't, or at least she doesn't, and the last thing she wants is to bother them.That's why it's so much easier to just talk to the friends she has in her head. They're not imaginary friends, not in the way that other horses might have, because they're very real. These just happen to be dead, long dead in some cases. She met them when she'd been pulled across time and space by Carnage, and they'd helped send her back from the apocalypse. Far from being disturbed to discover their voices in her head, she'd been thrilled that she hadn't lost them. She hasn't had much time to talk to them, but she's learning their names, slowly. The first among them, and the closest so far, is her own sister Rain.
Scorch had never talked about her, at least not to Wrynn, and it's small wonder. Rain had been stillborn, she'd told Wrynn. She'd never known Scorch in life, although they had been able to speak once with a magician's aid. Wrynn doesn't doubt that, given the choice, Scorch would far rather that Wrynn and Rain have traded places, that Wrynn remained in the underworld, and Rain came back to the surface. "You shouldn't think like that." Rain's voice is rough in her mind, and Wrynn visibly winces, reminded just how frequently she fails at keeping secrets from her new friends. It's not entirely clear just where the barriers lie now, where her private domain ends and the domain shared by the dead begins. She doesn't really mind much, and isn't about to quibble about it either. As far as she's concerned, she would have happily given her life for any of the dead to rise, to come back and experience the life they'd never known, so she's not about to begrudge them a little bit of her head space. She just wishes she'd stop forgetting. Rain's mind-voice can be so strident sometimes.
"Sorry." she says to her dead sister, and she actually does mean it. "I didn't mean it to criticize mom. I don't mind that she feels that way. But she definitely does." Rain is silent, and Wrynn knows that her sister knows she's right.
"Oh!" her exclamation is a total surprise, and very real. She turns a corner past a stream, and comes upon another girl, one whom she recognizes quickly from the meeting. Ephrelle – bumble bee, flower, tattoos, the memory floods back quickly. She is only startled for a moment before a small smile replaces the surprise on her face. Respectfully, Rain and the others fade into the background, blessedly allowing Wrynn to better focus on the conversation at hand.
They may have been born around the same time, but Wrynn is small for her age. The girl is unremarkable, a pretty bay thing, although she's still got wounds on her barrel and her knees, although they've started to heal. Only her eyes look unusual – they're a rainbow, shifting from color to color like a strange mood ring. "Sorry, I wasn't expecting anyone to be out here." she says, her voice its usual feather-light quiet again. "Ephrelle, right? I'm Wrynn."
wrynn