i want you to remember; any

[Lior]

He finds himself in the meadow. How long had it been since he had ventured from Nerine? Nayl, the Iron Queen, would fair well without him. She never had truly needed him. She had solely built that land, made from salt and sand, forged by fire and steel will, and he had simply been her guardian and later on, lover.

The tall man stands quietly against the wet cold of winter as small white flakes seek him out, landing across his leather wings, melting to nothing and dampening the thick black pelt. Warm breath curls like tiny cumulus clouds as he allows the cold to sink into his bones, brighten his mind, awaken the numbness that had laid dormant. He misses his children but they too are growing and becoming their own identities. The dark male grunts as he shifts his weight from one hip to the next, the thick cords of his tangled mane laying against his scarred neck.

Lior stands against the landscape, dotting the white and grays of frost like a black smudge. He keeps his wings tugged against his spine. The fringe of his hooves are saturated and cold and he feels the dull ache in his ankles but prefers to chill at the moment. He does not know why he came to the meadow but he is here now. The snow starts to thicken to fat flakes that fall with gentle little patters against his rough hide.

I want you to remember

[Fiato]

The dark mare is unsure why she finds herself in the meadow. Fiato had never really been one to wander outside of Hyaline, in fact... This venture was completely unlike the seal colored femme. Despite this, she is here. Snow dots her bodice precariously, the cool touch of it giving her shivers. She wanders onward, auburn eyes set on no point in particular until he comes into view.

The stag is massive, a large expanse of rolling muscle and leather stretched wings. She has never seen anything like him. Not even the dragon king of her emerald home could compare. The stallion was so easily seen against the alabaster landscape, then again... So was she.

She moves forward on limber legs, movements turned with a quiet grace. The femme is unsure why she wishes so deeply to speak with this stranger, but none the less she wishes too. She comes to a slow dragging stop mere meters away from the man. Her eyes searching his own. 

It is she who speaks first. A quite, 

"Hello, I am Fiato, and you are?"

Is offered before she falls silent again, awaiting the others reply.

[Lior]

He isn't alone for long when the image of a mare emerges much like him, interrupting the pristine white of a winter day. His silver eyes witness from the thick matting of his forelock, watching with mild interest, nostrils fuming slowly with each exhale of hot air.

She seems to act like she may know him, moving more directly over the thin crust of ice and snow towards him. Lior makes no move to elude the woman with the sea otter stain. He instead regards her still in the silence of the chilly day. Her approach is almost rapid and eager and Lior is unsure as to why but his expression remains just as flat as before.

'Fiato.

Her name is quip, her young eyes searching, looking for something beneath the surface of his silver ones but there isn't much to reveal. Lior was but a simple, quiet man. He returns her introduction with another low rumble of 'hm' before blinking away to look over the back of the young woman but when she does not run away with tail tucked and ears low, Lior sighs a blast of hot breath from between the scarred lips.

"Lior." His voice is a grind of wet gravel on a hot summer's day. His name is a thunderclap before the tornado. He is a bastard of a man with deserving destruction but this dark girl does not know this. All she knows is his name is Lior.

The man is not sure what to say next as he is not one to hold many conversations outside of his time with Nayl. Instead he shifts his weight, inhales slowly the scent of the young mare, and flicks the length of his knotted forelock away from his pewter eyes as the quiet settles in once again around them. He had never been a noted conversationalist especially at first meeting. The dragon man tucks the leather of his wings to his spine after shaking off the dampness from the melted snowflakes that lay against his skin as he looks the other equine over inscrutably.

I want you to remember