They had a grove back in Paraiso, a place of willow trees where their leaders and warriors and healers were laid to rest. It was a place full of peace and if the legends were true, they were said to be haunted with knowledge from past lives. Lilliana never heard her ancestors whispering from the rustle of their weeping branches but she had liked to imagine that the almost sacred-like calm she felt came from the sleeping souls nestled in their burial mounds.
Those souls had lived great lives: Ichiro who lead them towards times of great peace; Zamier who readily gave his life for the love of family; Carwen who loved as poetically and fiercely as any epic.
Sometimes, Lilliana tells herself it would have made a difference if there was a resting place here (she won't consider the Beach with its bleaching bones and bloated bodies; the way that the dead were left for carrion). A place where she could go and rail, where she could shout and finally let herself be angry.
Angry for the loss of a cousin who never should have left. Angry for the loss of a beloved friend in childbirth. Angry for the absence of another who she had overcome so much for her to simply disappear. Angry for the piece of herself that she gave away to a man (to a Curse?) who had manipulated her as easily as he could manipulate his skin.
But nowhere she looks from the peak of Tephra's volcano provides any answers. She doesn't catch a glimpse of any place that could provide her the kind of peace she seeks. The wind moves past the pair, blowing softly as if to remind the chestnut mare that solace will never be a place. If she is to find it, it will be in moments like this one with @[Wishbone]. Steam rolls from the crater that lingers above them but the Taigan is quietly looking to her companion. The eyes of the gold-marked mare appear glassy as she studies the landscape sprawled before them. It is beautiful; more than that, like her guide, it is inspiring.
Lilliana glances below before shaking her head, "No." She says gently. "Thank you for sharing this with me," she murmurs. How long has it been? The wind-walker in her wonders. Another breeze passes them by and Lilli feels something in her spirit tug along with it. Too long.
Something in her lifts up and rises.
It dances on the wind.
