[private] take a look in the mirror

[Tarian]

It's too much.

It's all too damn much for Tarian. Cheri with her talk of Taiga and how her grandmother and now father were called Guardians. The return of a lost sibling. Tarian who has been on his own for more than a decade suddenly isn't and when he has the chance, the gray pegasus takes to the sky. Loess is home. Loess is where he has pledged his loyalty and where Tarian assumed would follow his brother into the Afterlife.

And suddenly, all that peace Tarian had made with his past came roaring back.

So he spreads his wide wings and leaves it all behind him again. Tarian flies like something is chasing him and he presses himself to go further and faster than he has ever done. The silver stallion had always prided himself on his aerial abilities but Tarian knew he wasn't the swiftest or most agile of fliers. His Spanish ancestry meant he was too bulky for some maneuvers and he's never been one to show off. The former child of Paradise had been happy to leave all 'flashy flying' to Liam and any races that he had entered in had always been about stamina.

He aimed for distance. He aimed for stealth in the air, crisp wing strokes that left him nearly undetected. He aimed for moving with the air currents and learning weather patterns.

Now, he aims for none of that and Tarian is reckless in the sky. His wings carry him higher and higher, so far above Beqanna that he doesn't see where the canyons that cut across Loess bleed into the Forest. He doesn't see where the ground changes from red clay to evergreen shadows and the clouds cover most of the River. The only thing that Tarian is aware of is that the sky is changing colors. The vibrant summer hue is bruising into a deeper shade and there are others all vying for a piece of the sky. Reds, oranges, even indigo - a color that makes him think of someone who he'd rather not think of at all.

How many hours has he been flying?

Fatigue weighs down his strokes now and while he had been careless before, Tarian finds that being tired makes it harder to concentrate than before. His skin is dark and his muscled neck is lathered with sweat from the journey. He needs to land and coming down from such a perilous height takes time but, somehow, he manages to do it before sunset. A clearing had conveniently emerged - enough space that Tarian could land without risking injury from the nearby trees - but an old wound from the Alliance gives as he touches down. His hindleg buckles from the abrupt force of the ground and Tarian grimaces.

He tries to move but the leg won't support his shifting weight and so Tarian readjusts his wings (loosening them a little, trying to cloak the way that he was favoring the other leg), standing in the dead center of this little meadow as if it was his plan all along.

@[Altissima] <3