Does Moonlight Even Shine Here?

TANDAVI & NATRAJ we walked a lonely road beneath the fire of a thousand suns Somehow, we become separated. In the surging sea of shoving bodies; in the looming dark of a shrouded sky; in the searing pain of my lover's demise I am lost, split away from the all I hold dear and isolated, a hanging figure, the still frame of a story I cannot fathom to be my life. And yet is it truly surprising? Is it hard to believe that this should happen to me, to us, to the souls I hold dear and the hearts that nestle close to mine? When have things gone well for me? When have I been happy - well and truly happy, euphoric and blissful, at peace and unafraid - for more than a season at a time? Certainly not while I dwelled in Helovia. The land of my birth is a wretched place, a cursed place; it takes joy and crushes it, smirks at light before snuffing it out. My home is a betrayer, a vicious lover, a cooing voice sweet with the scent of rotted flesh and corruption. And now, my home is dead. We land alone, my brother and I, the foreign soil curling under our hooves like ash and smoke. For a moment we pause, trying to gain our bearings- but the moment is fleeting, quickly overwhelmed by movement and life. Where are the children? we question in tandem, black eyes meeting gold in sinking realization, fear and anger snaking through us like an electric shock. There is no time for stillness, no opportunity for shock. There is only find and protect and fear, the horrible, encompassing fear that crawls around in my belly, the terror that Mortimer and my twins have gone the way of Sacre, of Ampere, of so, so many more. Tight as a top I wander on, dark gaze seeking any sign of movement, any flash of familiar gold. Where are my children? Where is Amaris? They must be safe- they must be, because any alternative is impossible, because the thought of more death is a knife to my throat. Onward we stumble, deeper we search, tireless, relentless, for minutes that feel like days, until - there! - a spark of silver, the outline of wings, and we run, we run, my voice rolling thunder of hope and fear. "Mesec!" I cry to the familiar figure, ready to say more, wanting to know more, to confess I lost our daughters, to assault him for failing to fight, but then, then, beside him... "Mortimer." My voice is a sob, a laugh, relief flooding through me with the force of a tidal wave. The distance between us closes in steps; I fling myself at my copper son, neck reaching out to wrap around him, tears falling freely down gold-slashed cheeks, while Natraj wraps around the boy's legs, weeping his delight. Relief fills me up, but sorrow, too, because my oldest son is fatherless, abandoned, and how can I ever make up for that? Sacre is dead now, he's dead, and I watched his body twist and explode, watched him vanish into nothing as I stood there like a coward before running, fleeing, abandoning him to find my own safety, to make my own way, to maintain my own life as though it meant more, as though I mean more, as though he was nothing while I- Sharp pain interrupts the downward spiral of my thoughts, and I look to find Natraj biting my fetlock, his expression just as forlorn as I feel. No, he tells me gently through our bond. His pain is a visceral, miserable thing; it taints the sunlight he tends to exude, and I cannot help the guilt that fills me, the anger at the world that it could do this to my brother. His gold gaze is dull, the fire of his tails and eyes burnt out. Not run. Save. Mortimer safe- do that for him. For them. He's right- I don't believe it, but that doesn't change it, doesn't make my knowledge any less certain. Sacre is dead and we are alive, but so is Mortimer. So, too, perhaps, are his sisters. At last I look to Mesec, dark gaze flashing, barely registering the familiar woman who stands with us (is this Vesper's mother? I wonder blankly, and though the identity of the mare matters little to us, a twinge of sympathy pierces my heart - her daughter is missing, too). Rage is blooming bright in my lungs, the antidote to fear, the only thing that can overpower the howling winds of grief. It is all I can wield in this moment, all that keeps me from breaking into a million shattered pieces; passion lights me up in the night; the embers from my coat swirl and flow across my son, looking for any sign of injury, blanketing and caressing him as I glare at the father of the errant girls. My voice is flat, straight foward, a short snap -"I can't find your daughters." Your daughters - because in this new mischief, in whatever shit they're pulling (because they must be hiding, they can't be dead) they are his problem, his fault. There is anger in my eyes, but there is also hope, and a plea - tell me it's okay, we're going to be okay, just help me now and we can make this okay.

credit | credit

SWP participation
Magics:
:: [ Magic: DarkxLight (U) | The ability to copy someone's magical ability by touch or being exposed to it ] 
:: [ Restrictions | Can remember only the last 3 magical abilities at a time; in battle, she can only steal and use another magic once per post ]
^ SAFE

:: [ Magic: FirexLight | Can create glowing sparks, which can be manipulated to cover wounds and heal on touch ]  (if the wording could be changed to embers instead of sparks that'd be RAD)
:: [ Restrictions | The larger the wounds, the more sparks she has to generate, and the greater the physical toll on her ]
^ SAFE

:: [ Magic: DarkxLight (P) | Able to sense magic in others and she experiences it as a series of flavors and colors, with each ability having its own distinct properties ] 
:: [ Restrictions | Cannot tell what magical ability they have nor details without being told or having copied it ]
^DANGER WILL ROBINSON

Companion/s : 
:: [ Companion: Kitsune | Mythical, plain | Fire | 4 yrs 1 mo ] - received 05-18-2013 - Late Scorch 1167 (this should also be Tandavi's age WHOOPS)

That's it!~ GO NUTS.