Common

Both of them seemed to stand there like gawking, awkward teenagers, each of them far too excited to have half a gram of sense between them. Corvair, for her part, was enamored with the flaxen haired stallion, and had already let herself begin to believe that in him, she might find the sort of love that her mother seemed to have for her dad. She certainly hoped that her life with him would be smoother than what the Bay had been through, but she had also begun to wonder if the chaos might still be worth it.

"You're from Salem? Really? I've only ever been to Tinuvel and it's a cold swim, but not really long. Honestly, walking the entire length of the Peak is truly the worst part." Not because Corvair disliked the Peak - she felt rather ambiguously toward them in general - but because it felt to her the way that hold music felt when you were calling about something you hoped for. On the other end was something good or bad, you didn't know, but it was something… you just had to get through the emptiness first.

"What is Salem like? Is it as hot as they say?" Her excitement kept building, and while she kept trying to tamp it down, a million more questions circled in her mind. Did the sand really rise up into a vengeful mass to blind the residents? Or were there plants a whole horse tall with spines that could cut skin? Or bugs with stinger-arms that could poke a baby horse to death? What about snow? Did it ever get cold enough to snow there? Had he ever seen snow? Tasted it? Carried an icicle between his teeth until it crunched?