Aela returns to the Mountain when their world has descended into darkness.
Her glow is gone. There is a halo in the sky - the only source of light - and as she climbs up the Mountain, she laments the loss of that particular gift. The never-ending night has made the climb that much more perilous and Aela has to rely on her senses more than she ever has before; each step has to be calculated, her ears dance in directions listening for the way that wind howls and moans through the rising peaks, her head lifts and Aela has to wait, using her echoes to make sure that nothing is lingering in the shadows.
The trek up the Moutain is already a perilous journey.
It is already a journey that takes days, that should have <i>some</i> modicum of preparation if one intends to summon the Faeries. Aela does not let anything go to waste; when the eclipse comes and the monsters start to creep, she decides that this is the time to go. If there is ever a time to find answers, to gain any kind of understanding (and knowledge <i>is</i> power), it would be now. Pangea falls away into obscurity, devoured by the dark that has encompassed every corner of Beqanna. The near-palomino climbs towards the peak, bracing herself against the ice and cold that chills her down to the very marrow.
She thinks it's the top. It seems like the entire world drops away and if Magic were tangible, she thinks it would freeze. Aela can't see the way her breath comes smoke-like from her nostrils because she is looking up, looking for physical shape or sense of presence besides the bitter cold. <i>I was young when I last made this trip,</i> she thinks. She had wanted a voice. There have been lessons since that day and she has since found it, her own way of talking.
It sounds like the kind of moral the faeries would approve of. Finding a voice while in pursuit of Magic, learning how to meld it in such a way that made the user unique. There are flashes of the moments in her mind - of Living as the Fairy called it - that come: clinging to the soft, spotted side of Kota. Adoration colors her emotions as she glances at her grandmother, Heartfire. Unfreezing Kensley's heart. Meeting Beyza. The fight with Wherewolf. Discovering her own abilities and ambitions when the Pangeans came to Nerine.
<i>It's dark now,</i> the little mare explains (with as much reverence as one like Aela can manage). Many horses are struggling to adapt their senses to match the strange happenings. She is no different. <i>I'd still like to be heard. To have some clarity in these troubling times.</i>
The three threads:
Aela learns about Kensley's frozen heart and helps him unfreeze it
Aela learns that Wherewolf is sensitive about his once-broken wing and uses that it instigate an argument
Aela meets Skandar and helps him learn about ambition
@[Wysteria Fairy]
Her glow is gone. There is a halo in the sky - the only source of light - and as she climbs up the Mountain, she laments the loss of that particular gift. The never-ending night has made the climb that much more perilous and Aela has to rely on her senses more than she ever has before; each step has to be calculated, her ears dance in directions listening for the way that wind howls and moans through the rising peaks, her head lifts and Aela has to wait, using her echoes to make sure that nothing is lingering in the shadows.
The trek up the Moutain is already a perilous journey.
It is already a journey that takes days, that should have <i>some</i> modicum of preparation if one intends to summon the Faeries. Aela does not let anything go to waste; when the eclipse comes and the monsters start to creep, she decides that this is the time to go. If there is ever a time to find answers, to gain any kind of understanding (and knowledge <i>is</i> power), it would be now. Pangea falls away into obscurity, devoured by the dark that has encompassed every corner of Beqanna. The near-palomino climbs towards the peak, bracing herself against the ice and cold that chills her down to the very marrow.
She thinks it's the top. It seems like the entire world drops away and if Magic were tangible, she thinks it would freeze. Aela can't see the way her breath comes smoke-like from her nostrils because she is looking up, looking for physical shape or sense of presence besides the bitter cold. <i>I was young when I last made this trip,</i> she thinks. She had wanted a voice. There have been lessons since that day and she has since found it, her own way of talking.
It sounds like the kind of moral the faeries would approve of. Finding a voice while in pursuit of Magic, learning how to meld it in such a way that made the user unique. There are flashes of the moments in her mind - of Living as the Fairy called it - that come: clinging to the soft, spotted side of Kota. Adoration colors her emotions as she glances at her grandmother, Heartfire. Unfreezing Kensley's heart. Meeting Beyza. The fight with Wherewolf. Discovering her own abilities and ambitions when the Pangeans came to Nerine.
<i>It's dark now,</i> the little mare explains (with as much reverence as one like Aela can manage). Many horses are struggling to adapt their senses to match the strange happenings. She is no different. <i>I'd still like to be heard. To have some clarity in these troubling times.</i>
The three threads:
Aela learns about Kensley's frozen heart and helps him unfreeze it
Aela learns that Wherewolf is sensitive about his once-broken wing and uses that it instigate an argument
Aela meets Skandar and helps him learn about ambition
@[Wysteria Fairy]