Covering all your wounds; Lepis

[Lepis]

lepis, comtesse of taiga RUN AND TELL ALL OF THE ANGELS; THIS COULD TAKE ALL NIGHT i think i need a devil to help me get things right With snow piled atop the branches of the trees overhead, sunlight is scare in a Taigan winter. It’s not common even in the summer, but with the cold Lepis is even more determined to soak up all of it that she can. She does no now, during one of her brief periods of rest. With her golden wings tucked tightly against her sides, the dun mare could be a painted statue if not for the dancing of her navy mane and tail in the winter breeze. The meadow around her is still and quiet, as are most of the borderlands. She is grateful for that today, and even when she hears the sound of hooves is able to smile before she even sees the other horse. It takes the pegasus a moment to place her. There have been changes in the last six years, subtle alterations that, paired with the imperfection of memory, take her a few steps forward to but a name to the ethereal face. “Ilma,” she says, and recalls the last time she had seen the white mare. She’d been with Kagerus, visiting the Pampas both to spread news and learn what they could about the Plague. An otherwise unmemorable interaction, and Lepis has given little thought to the whereabouts of either of the mares in the time since. She knows that the antlered mare and her wife had disappeared, and shortly after their idea of a sanctuary that Ilma had so proudly represented. Where the now-angelic mare had been in the time since, Lepis is unsure. She’s heard tell that the woman and her Uncle are friends, but has never bothered to confirm it with him. Dragons have a strange taste in friends, she has learned, and a fickle taste as well. “What brings you to Taiga?” The question is standard for visitors, and the way Lepis stands, one leg half-bent, is indicative of relaxation. The faint smile that had appeared on her face earlier remains, and she looks for all the world as though she has not a single care.

@[Ilma]