[private] Thinking of you is a poison I drink often {Lilliana}

[lilliana]

He is fortunate that his coat thickens with the winter season.

Lilliana has generations of tropical-dwelling horses in her pedigree and in the battle of genetics, it is her fathers' blood that has won out. Despite the frigid air around her, the chestnut coat she wears is barely any heavier than the one that covers her during the warmer months. She should perhaps seek out a warmer climate - such as Ischia or Tephra. The humidity and heat of those kingdoms would have suited her better. There would be no shivering or muttering every winter against the artic Taigan breezes that come gusting through her northern home. Things might have turned out much differently if Lilliana had settled anywhere other than the Taiga but there is no point in reflecting on that now.

The mare who emerges from beneath the snow-laden trees is one who is determined to keep moving forward. (She had promised them after all - Craft and Anatomy. She had brought them to Taiga with the words that even if it all turned out wrong, the whole point was that they were given the choice, the chance. In that desert, if they remained, there would have been no choices at all except to simply drift with those lonely grains of sands.)

It's the river current that pulls her close, that hums softly the memories of her youth and that always washes her in comfort.

It's the closest thing to an embrace that she can allow.

For a moment, she stops and remembers leading Neverwhere to this place. She remembers the two of them ambling through the darkness with Lilliana entirely unsure of herself and doubting her ability to lead them anywhere but disaster. But the two of them had found it - the River had waited for them that night and it gave Lilli that first boost of confidence she needed. After she had lost everything and the only thing she had been sure of was the emptiness in her chest, Neverwhere had been the first confident step in what has felt like an ever-winding trail in Beqanna.

 (There are other memories here too - pulling Kagerus from this same current and the pleasure that came with seeing the dreamweaver regain her strength, with knowing she had reunited with her beloved Solace. She remembers Smidgen in the golden haze of sunglow as the day dims. When the petite mare had learned that Taiga still stands, that it wasn't decimated by the fire. That if she wished, she had a home to return too.)

The chestnut mare is walking her usual trail, a well-traveled path that bears the markings and scents of other horses that come this way. The cold air bellows from her dark nostrils and dances away from her in plumes of silver smoke, a poor imitation of the fog that almost always curtains her beloved Taiga. Her blue eyes are where they should be, alert and ahead, bright and determined despite the garish light of winter sunshine. An ear flicks towards the River and the other pricks ahead as a shade of gray begins to take form in this pale landscape.

The shape of a silver stallion.

From the angle she approaches, she can't quite tell if his mouth is down-turned or if his expression is as severe as it feels. Presumptuous of her but Lilliana asks with a rather teasing quip, "Surely it can't be all that bad?" The last of her words rise to indicate a question as she comes to stand near him and see what he is looking at. A fish leaps downstream and the sound of the cascading splash causes the chestnut to turn her head toward him, curious.

@[Dalten]