The Academy: rebuild again || SEEKING A TEACHER

Came a time when every star-fall brought you to tears again.

It was misty in the Academy. Fog had been exhaled from the heavens to hang stagnantly over the snowy earth. Helena blended easily with the dreary scene, both physically and emotionally. Her curving figure was a dappled grey tone, a hue that would only lighten with age. In her mind was the same dull shade of grey, hanging eternally over any ideas that may have birthed themselves within her skull. This is not to say she was not smart—she had certainly inherited both her mother and her father’s intelligence. When they blended they formed a dangerously sharp mind; perhaps her deep-rooted depression was nature’s way of putting a damper on her mind, so that she was almost normal.

…Almost.

Though the atmosphere was chilled due to the season, Helena shivered even as a light breeze chose to stir against her flesh. Within her growled a hungry flame, the heat licking at the insides of her chest while smoking up and down her slender legs. She had not discovered this element, as many were forced to do—in fact, it did not occur to her that it was possible to live without such a feeling. From her first breath she could not deny the heat that flourished in her mind and body. It was as apparent to her as the sun in the sky, and as bright too. She came to learn more of it, especially in her solitude. When she had spent time with her dam, all she could feel was a consuming appetite for domination. They were equal, if anything—her mother’s air and love had forced Notte into a position of submission, while only Helena’s age stood in the way of complete control. Finally the black warrior could not bear it anymore, and had cast her child off into adolescence. Though it was a harsh way to develop, Helena had benefited more than she would ever know by raising herself.

Others would perhaps have announced their arrival, calling out for companionship in the empty garden of grey stone and withered foliage. But the grey filly remained silent, hesitant to break the lonely spell that now held an iron fist over the atmosphere. Instead she let her dark eyes sweep left and right, her thick forelock acting as a veil to shield her expressions from outsiders. She hardly needed it, however: even at a young age her countenance rarely shifted from one expression to another. Her lips were carved in a perfect line, fluctuating occasionally downward in a frown. At the same time her delicate ears would flutter back in dismay, though as of now she moved one forward and the other to the rear, ready to absorb the sounds that the place was ready to offer.

She was a ready student, her teacher so far undiscovered.

HELENA