Desreal: to: ALTHEA

hearts that cry diamond tears;
spirits that walk for a thousand years;
here them calling on that darkest morning;
pulling me under, my thoughts dissapear;

Saphira does not need a title to regard someone as her equal. Quite the opposite really. Her title was just a name, another accomplishment. It was her character that she wanted to be revered for, the things she had done in the name of Solira. So Althea’s words cause a smile to form on her tattered lips. It is beautiful, and yet somehow pained. Her sapphire eyes dance, but every now and then a piece of ice struggles into the molten blue. And a little piece of her is lost every time. She was changing, evolving into a creature that did not deserve to live. But these thoughts are hidden, veiled behind the Shard whose presence overpowered everything. It is brazen on her shoulder, the snake scar coiled around its glinting heart.

Saphira takes a few steps closer to the fire mare, her smile soft. She reaches out, and traces the pattern of a wave on Althea’s shoulder. She imbues it with lightning, and then casts her breath across its swell. The wave begins to dance, to move across Althea’s shoulder, rolling in the rhythm of her heart. It is Saphira’s mark of friendship. She steps back, admiring her work for a moment, before sapphire eyes meet cerulean.

“You give me more praise than I deserve Althea. But I thank you.”

She pauses a moment, allowing Althea to finish speaking. When she is done Saphira laughs lightly. A beautiful and carefree sound.

“We have always been equals my friend. Only a title seperates us among the Legends, and it is just a name. You smell of the desert sands, tell me, have you met my son Baraqel?”

She smiles at the thought of her pyromaniac son. She loved him with all her heart. Even if he did enjoy blowing things up, he never directed it at her.

GOLD: S A P H I R A

the siren

you can hold the darkness from you;
if the will is very strong;
but that whisper always haunts you;
cannot change the Siren's Song.