bring on the night - any

[Sidhra]

S I D H R A

Sidhra had worried, if not for only a moment, that her plea to the Mountain would not be heard. She could feel the magic in this land thrumming beneath her hooves, but new nothing of what sort of magic fueled this place.  But she still climbed the sides of the Mountain with a heart filled with hope and a willingness to do what must be done to restore her voice.  The little fae had had a voice of her own, once.  Her mutism is perhaps unconventional in that regard. She had chosen this life of silence.  Sidhra revered the night above all else - the quiet sounds and inky darkness were the only thing that brought comfort to her.  She found in her youth, that the piercing sounds of voices cut through the night - shattering the calm with the abrasive noise. So, with increasing frequency she came to rely on her innate abilities. Most fae had some degree of magic that began to settle after your first decade. Sidhra’s had been telepathy.  And after nearly 80 years of disuse, Sidhra found that she know longer knew how to speak with her long disused voice. Still, Sidhra knew the fairy upon the Mountain’s words to be true. She didn’t need words to speak. She knew she could survive without her ability.  She could still communicate in the most rudimentary of fashions, though she was decidedly unpracticed in this regard.  Nevertheless, the little fae slips into the meadow in pursuit of her first experiment.  Silver-white eyes flick across the still strange landscape, seeking someone who may find a conversation with the wordless worthwhile. BRING ON THE NIGHT

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NOTE: Sidhra is mute. She's going to be attempting to communicate without words.

[kildare]

He isn't the brooding type. It isn't his way, at least not usually.

But here he is, a slight frown on his dark maw and his emerald eyes dark with some unknown worry. Well, it's not unknown. It's Astana and he doesn't like the fact that she worries him. It's all wrong that way - she should have just flown away and any thought of her should have followed suit. Instead, Kildare contemplates making a journey to Nerine and finding out for himself what a 'Heartfire' is. From what limited knowledge he has been able to gather, it didn't sound the most promising of starts for the diamond child.

And then he groans wondering why he cares, why he has to care. Just let her be, he thinks. She's old enough to make her own choices. She knows what she's doing. 

Perhaps its because he's still young but an image of Malachi appears, silver and stern and foreboding in his memories. Another inward groan and the black colt changes his path, turning away from the northern part of Beqanna and where he longs to go. He wants the wind to whip past him again, wild and unchained. The longing is still there, that ancient call between his blood and the breeze that want to converse again. But for quirky Astana, he puts off his pursuit for another day.

The first step - find out how to get to Nerine.

His green eyes scan the Meadow, looking for a source of information and it is Sidhra they find. He walks a little too assuredly, the almost arrogant stride of a boy who has yet to fully grow up. The mare looks like she is searching for somebody with the way her eyes dance around. He smirks (looking a little too smug) and slows his stride before dipping his dark head, "Hey." His voice rumbles out, clear and demanding while he sneaks a glance at the fairy mare. "I'm looking for Heartfire. Do you know where I can find her?"

@[Sidhra]

[Sidhra]

S I D H R A

The boy moves towards her with such purpose that it startles the fae for a moment.  She watches him with curiosity, her elongated ears flicking forward as he approaches.  Sidhra, having lived for nearly a century, can’t help but admire the unchecked confidence of youth. Of course, that confidence has the potential to be equal parts endearing and annoying.  Curiosity flickers in the fae’s silver-white eyes as the boy stops before her. The fae dipped her head in response to the boy’s greeting.  Having grown up in a royal court, Sidhra had a very strong sense of decorum, and her younger sister loved to tease her endlessly for it.  The boy did not hesitate, stepping directly into a line of questioning which caught Sidhra off guard. Confusion flickered in those eerie silver eyes.  Her brow furrowed as she cocked her head to the side, trying to indicate her confusion. Sidhra did not know this Heartfire the boy spoke of.  She had know way of knowing if it was a person or a place or some sort of object, for all she knew. Not only had she been robbed of her speech but she had limited knowledge of this place as Beqanna had not been her home for any considerable length of time.  She let out a little huff in frustration. It would have been so easy to explain to the boy that she didn’t know what he was talking about if she still had access to her telepathy. Instead the fae simply shook her head, her long ears tilting backwards as she struggled to communicate her lack of understanding. BRING ON THE NIGHT

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@[kildare]

[kildare]

He’s made a mistake. He knows he’s made a mistake the moment that confusion dawns on the fae’s face.

Good going.

He can see it as it knots her brow, makes her silver eyes flash with it. Her head cocks to the side and Kildare groans internally. He can feel the guilt that comes from her, the way her ears have gone back and she shakes her head. ”I’m sorry,” he states with a rush of hot air. And then sheepishly the boy offers her a side grin, ”My mother would have my hide if she knew I was acting this way.”

What would Kalina say about his actions? The thought of his mother gives his heart a lurch and it serves its purpose as any motherly reminder would. He had been raised better than this. Even if Kildare existed in a different place entirely from the rest of his family, they had still raised him with better principles and morals than the impulsiveness and borderline rudeness he has shown this poor mare.

The air around them is silent. Kildare tilts his head as he studies Sidhra: the petiteness of her frame, the depth of the blue hues that adorn her coat, her long ears, and silver eyes. It is only during the waiting that the thought occurs to him that something might be wrong. He had expected the mare to offer him some kind of verbal whiplash, to retaliate back at him for his obstinate nature. (Or maybe atleast tell him her name?)

But she doesn’t and Kildare feels himself becoming concerned.  ”Are you, ah, okay?” The question is reluctant, unsure of what exactly is he able to do if she isn’t.

@[Sidhra]