I O N A
In my defense, the moon was full...
and I was left unsupervised.
Iona’s fears about the Rift and it’s nefarious nature was confirmed almost immediately. No sooner had she spoken aloud had something started to happen. Iona had thought very little of the amulets she wore around her neck. They were little more than trinkets to her. As a creature who thought very little of magic, they weren’t prized treasures to the painted mare. More baubles than anything.
Until now.
The vibrations are subtle at first, but due to their proximity to her windpipe, Iona is instantly aware that something is amiss. Iver, distracted by the most recent bout of vertigo, is entirely oblivious to his bonded’s distress. The vibration continues until the ringing is nearly unbearable. The painted mare furiously shakes her head to clear the noise, but nothing stocks the horrible sound. Then the burning starts. She grits her teeth, unwilling to cry out as it feels like the amulets burn clear through her skin. A thin sheen of sweat breaks out on her coat as a sense of impending panic threatens to alight in her gut. This was an enemy she could not possibly fight, the very reason that she loathed unseen magic such as this bullshit. The burning was soon replaced by cold, and it was so cold it seemed like it would burn her skin in its own right. And then it shatters and for a moment, Iona thinks she’s dead.
She must be.
The painted mare collapses to her knees, pain rolling through her body in waves. She struggles to catch her breath, dazed and shaken. Her heart struggles to fall back into a steady rhythm, but it soon falls back to something resembling a normal pattern. She struggles back to her feet, disoriented. The world seems to have shifted, somewhat, but she writes it off as a reaction to this...ambush. She still feels strange, but can’t put her finger on what feels wrong. The painted mare blinked away the haze from her vision, and was slowly able to make out a familiar shape before her.
Alysanne. A mixture of relief and confusion stirred in her. ”Aly. You’re okay. But what the fuck? You’re green?” And then Naerys was there too, another relief, but her words were confusing too. Obviously Alysanne was different, but she hadn’t even considered the possibility that she had changed too. Iona squinted her eyes at Nae, finding that there were differences there too. Her wings, for one. And she was obviously pregnant. ”What the hell? Nae. Your pregnant?” The painted mare’s thoughts were jumbled and unorganized. Well clearly if Alysanne and Nae had changed in some way, I must have too…”
The thought cut off as the painted pegasus turned her head over her shoulder to inspect her own changes. For the span of two heartbeats, there was nothing but silence. There was simply...nothing. Iona could not understand what had happened to her. It simply...did not compute. Her eyes glazed over. Her mouth popped open, though no sounds emerged.
Until finally…
“What...the...fuck…?” It emerged as more of a panicked squeak than anything. There was true panic now, as Iona extended now downy wings. She looked between Aly and Naerys’ pleadingly, only now realizing that she had to look up at them. Zoeya offered her healing skills and little Iona hurried over to the her niece. “Can you fix this?” she asked, trying to control the note of desperation that she knew was obvious.
Others appeared from the strange shadows. Lyanna, whom she recognized and tried not to resent for looking no worse for wear. A stallion with a child who appears to be about baby-Iona’s age. But she can say nothing to them, she can hardly acknowledge them. Not that she had the greatest social decorum before this but she’s simply...too overwhelmed by all of this shit.
“THIS ISN’T FUCKING FUNNY. YOU ALL GET MAKEOVERS AND I GET THIS? WHAT KIND OF PLACE IS THIS?” Iona protested with a stamp of a tiny hoof, her voice coming out in an angry squeak.
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The Portal
