Shimmering Sands the erinyes

She was forged anew; her crucible had been the death of Taltos, her father.

Pain and grief had tempered her heart, steeling it over that nothing might penetrate it that did not already belong— and its filigree was a pattern of darkness and fury. For Emaleth had accepted her talents for curses, had accepted that she was the darker half of Deirdre's brilliant light. She embraced the enraged flames that licked and heated the steel in her breast. It made her stronger. She thought she had learned to control it, that she might be able to return to her homeland and use it to protect the strength of Donnelaith rather than unintentionally harm it.

She was the weapon, and her sister the healer.

Emaleth traveled slowly across the shimmering flat, panting from the heat, mismatched eyes dark with conviction. She had always been delicate and graceful, but the famine and her self-imposed exile had thinned her further still— the sharp angles of her body mirrored the form her heart now took. It was rage that fueled her, that gave her a supernatural strength that outweighed the weakness of hunger, and she moved purposefully across the landscape.

The bear smacked his lips as he rose from the tidal pools, full of oyster meat. It was not a meal he partook in often, sea creatures, and he savored their salty taste as he lumbered through the bright, shimmering sands that served as a barrier between the ocean and the woods. He grunted with annoyance at the overbearing heat, eager to return to the coolness of the shade, but he trudged on, gut heavy with oyster meat.

He wasn't the only one to cross through the imitation desert; a dark female, skinny and small, crossed with determination across her face. The shaman looked towards her curiously, squinting at the girl's lithe form. So I am not the only fool to walk these sands at midday.

Her senses were, perhaps, overwhelmed by the scent of salt. It was carried by not only the ocean's breeze, of which she was accustomed to, but permeated the atmosphere of the flat she traversed over. It was hot here, and bright— and where Emaleth stuck out like a sore toe, the kermode bear was camouflaged in sight and odor. Her concentrated journey was abruptly halted by his rumbling, and the youth spun to face the source of the noise with teeth flashing bright against her dark form.

Emaleth squinted her mismatched gaze against the blinding light of the sun, struggling to identify the threat. She did not speak bear— at least, not fluently— and it took her a moment to identify what the sound belonged to. As soon as she did, it took her a moment more to puzzle out the words concealed within the rough dialect. Fool, and midday.

"It is hot," she agreed, a bit irritably. "But there's little choice."

It was the way to Donnelaith, to home.

Tupilek squinted at the girl's mismatched eyes; fae eyes. Those with dual tones always seemed to have some sort of mischief in them, or even worse (or better, depending on the perspective), magic. He huffed. It was indeed hot. Too hot for him, and too hot for her, with her dark coat. Going somewhere then? She seemed too young to be wandering the land — yet he had seen younger wolves do so — but her purposeful walking suggested a mission, a goal. Would you mind if an old bear accompanied you? He had no direct ties to this land, at least not yet. He didn't have to go back to the Hinterlands just yet, but he hadn't seen the rest of these Wilds either. If she didn't mind his presence, surely he could have an excuse to go lumbering about somewhere else.

*crashes Dagfinn into the thread*

Though his coat was as dark as Emaleth's, Dagfinn was delighted with the shimmer of the salt flat. It reminded him of his distant homeland while offering a new and exciting experience. The taste of this hot-snow was something he'd never had before, and stranger still was the bright river flowing with warm water, instead of freezing.

Having grown up in the tundra, Dag had never been fully submerged before. Such things could mean death in his homeland, with the wicked winds and freezing temperatures. Here, though, he bounded joyously through the water, blue eyes glinting madly as he sang out a wordless song. It was, perhaps, not a well-composed as his usual tunes, but he was breathless, and that could not be helped. It would still be pleasant to the untrained ear, and he was too focused on his own merriment to care that he was a bit out of tune.

Too focused, also, to notice the bear and the wolf nearby.

"Home," she answered, cautiously avoiding anything more specific. Bears could be dangerous, and although they and wolves shared a tenuous truce, Emaleth knew there would be no way for her to win if the elder creature's mood soured. Her understanding of the gruff dialect was becoming clearer and clearer the more she listened, and she eyed him warily. "I cannot command what you do," the youth remarked, "but if harm comes to me, the fury of the Mayfairs will come down upon you— and I will haunt you for as long as my bones rest upon the earth." She willed this to be true, a small weaving of magick carried upon her breath.

As the words left her, another's voice fell upon her ears, and Emaleth turned with brows furrowed. For a brief moment, pain lanced through her steeled heart— song was a joy she had shared with her father, and if the melody was not off-key she might have thought it was Lasher for it's loveliness— but she swallowed, and the moment passed.

The stranger was off in the distance, leaping about, his voice carrying only in bits and pieces. There was still a long way for she and the bear to cross before they met the river (and by extension, the dark stranger), but the thought of freshwater made thirst burn in the youth's throat. She glanced at the bear, then motioned with a graceful sweep of her muzzle that she would be continuing on.