what's about to eat her

you lose yourself

trying to hold on to nothing

The glowing mare watches silently as Weaver seems to get lost in her thoughts, fruit juice dribbling down her chin.  A slight grin stretched her lips as the other mare seemed to question the healing magic that was mentioned, but it seems her words were lost in the communication. Are these strangers that dull?  She grins again, now watching the winged one take a bite of the fruit...and seems to enjoy it.  Good.  Moä Te props a foot up, settling in for a back and forth of questions while the darker mare throws some words her way.  Her head cocked to one side, she stays silent for a moment.  Anything helpful?  There are things that she could share with the mare, although they may just make her turn tail and dash away.  She can't have that, not until her own questions are answered.

"Yes, I do suppose you all are lost here without any knowledge."  She starts off with the fact that these strangers are just that...Strangers. Moä Te meets Weavers eyes.  "I could tell you about the dangers and the joys, the Gods and our magic, so I guess it's more a question of what you want to know.  How about this?  I will tell you whatever you want to know, but in return I would like some answers as well.  The fact that the fruit here is sweet and refreshing is a freebie.  Here is another one.  This place was beautiful, a true paradise rules by the four Gods.  But our Gods were tainted by darkness, and so the Rift fell into shadows.  We all became overwhelmed with the sickness."

Her once soft voice became stern, a story of her home's past bringing a sharp edge to it.  "There was great battles.  Foreign gods conquered, but a part of each deity remained.  Thus Kisamoa was born.  And, as far as I know, Kisamoa destroyed the foreign gods and brought back our light and magic.  That was the day you, and all who came with you fell into our world."  With a curt nod, she motioned toward Weaver, expecting her side of the story.  "Tell me, Weaver.  What do you know of this?"

Her stance, though not a threatening one, held a stern pose.  Her icy eyes demanded words from the mare, and so she sat, ears pricked.

391 . @Weaver . notes: