The sound of splashing water is the answer to Warlight’s invitation. Lilliana had stood on the bank and paused for just a moment when she caught a glimpse of her shadowed reflection staring back at her. (A foalhood habit that has only started to resurface.) She banished it; sent it rippling away as she waded into the murky pool after Kagerus’ daughter.
It’s healing properties seep into her and while it can’t fill all the hollows that Lilliana carries around with her, it soothes the places where her exhaustion has settled into the marrow of her bones and eases the weariness of her troubled soul (or is that Warlight?). She lifts one long foreleg and experiments with the water before slowly dipping the soaking limb back in.
If she knew her painted companion better (and if she were in better health), Lilliana might have done more than just flash her an impish (wildfire) smile.
"It’s an entity that does this?” the copper mare asks. Like Taiga had for a time (and will have again, she thinks.) She rarely admits to her own gifts but Lilliana lets it illuminate, lighting up the dark water with a blue-purple glow coming from her front white sock. The chestnut lifts the leg again, bringing closer to the surface so that Warlight might see. Lilli watches with a precarious stare and a half-joke, "you wouldn’t lose to me.” If the two-toned mare had a bitter admission, Lilliana might as well share hers as she re-submerged her leg.
The red woman has never been a fighter and the scar on her right shoulder suddenly itches, a physical reminder of what she admits. Lilliana has seen terrifying powers and then reminds (steels) herself with what Leilan had said, that Magic itself was neutral. That it was the user who determined it’s essence.
"And the Mountain left you like this?” says the Taigan. Her glowing dims and the dark - despite the luminous Tephran lava streams in the distance - comes creeping in. Her blue eyes study the obscure form of the warrior before her, trying to imagine the proud crown of antlers that she had been stripped of. She imagines that the Lake must help but there is still the (troubling) condition of Warlight that Lilliana considers. If it stripped the painted mare of her health, "so how do you win this battle? Reclaiming your strength.”
Foolish mare, the voice in her mind taunts.
But @[Warlight] is an echo of the heroes and heartsongs from those legends and fables that Lilli has loved. A touch of the dreamer is still there, somewhere. Boldly emerging, sheashe "Magic only goes so far." Lilliana thinks aloud, remembering that for every battle that has mattered, there is the heart striking behind the hoof. "The rest is where heroes are born."
LILLIANA
if i ever get to heaven
i've got a long list of questions