quiet determination.

Virga... Her summons is not for you. You know this, because you are neither scholar nor healer nor anything else the clear-voiced mare asks to see. You are decidedly something else — a shadow crossing now below the sky, arriving anyway on this gathering of — what? Peacekeepers? Laughable. But you don't arrive to fight, right now. The anger so bright in your veins has burned itself to a low smolder, and curiosity draws you more than anything. It's almost funny, actually: If this were Helovia, if your parents were still with you, if everything had gone differently.... But it hasn't. You descend on silver-tipped wings, your landing (as always) a little too hard. The moonfeathers fade once your hooves touch the soil, and silently you stand there at the edge of the meeting. Dark eyes pass briefly over the strange bay pegasus also present, and recognition pushes a dismissive snort from your lungs, but ultimately, your face turns toward the mare. She must be the leader, whatever that means. You'll hear out what she has to say, at least. She does not appear obviously Riftian, and you have nothing better to do today. light shines brighter in the dark

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