Earthshine is short, and she hasn’t shimmered in a long time. That doesn’t keep her from trying. That doesn’t keep her from staring out at the shore, waiting for something to start swimming toward her. It might be then, standing and waiting for Vanya, that she starts to shine a little bit. The dark mare almost wishes she’s a mirage, almost wishes that she’s not real. It’s like the images that you see in the heat… they look like water. She feels… liquid? That doesn’t sound right. Maybe she isn’t right after all.

And maybe she shouldn’t have come. Earthshine turns, moving to stare out over the land. This is the Inlet… that’s right. She’d spent part of her time growing up here. She’d spent a lot of time with Ivan here. She’d find him here if he was anywhere left to be. Yes. He had to be here. It’s then that the mare asks herself… who is he after all? It’s all spinning around in her head far too quickly. What Earthshine needs is to try and think. She needs to make an attempt at remembering so she isn’t so lost any more. Maybe that’s the reason she’s come here. That isn’t right either.

None of it is right, but the creature is pulled from her monologue by a voice. It’s a rough one attached to a rough body, but Earthshine hardly blinks out of time. There’s nothing to suggest she’s even heard the stallion for a few long moments. As if on a delayed reaction an ear flickers, her tail swishes. Sometimes the mare has to take a second to remember that she has words, that she can speak at all. Sometimes it’s better that way. Other times, the mare supposes, it’s not. Neutrality appears to be the name of the game here, and she’s perfectly happy to float along with it. There’s nothing to ruffle her feathers… maybe they’re unruffleable after all.

”Just had to make sure it was still here.” The mare lifts a hoof and drops it to the cold ground as if to demonstrate she means the very territory itself. She’s attached to these lands. When there’s nowhere to go it’s where she ends up. ”Used to live here. Long time ago now.” The mare nods once, more to herself. She has to confirm that this place is still here so she can remember that she’s still here herself.

It’s several moments later that the mare realizes that this should probably be a conversation. Though she doesn’t appear to care too much, her head tilts to the side. Her eyes haven’t left the stallion’s body, as if trying to figure him out based on looks alone. It hasn’t gotten her far. ”Who’re you?” It’s a simple question, not a demand. Honestly, the dark mare doesn’t know how to make a demand really at all. It doesn’t matter too much, anyway.