New IoR loredump XD Plus a one-shot because we've got to have one of those now haven't we. ~~~~~ The horses in the thumbnail are Gyllir, Arion, and Asain. Gyllir is the stallion in the middle, Asain is the mare in the back, and Arion is the stallion in the front. They were born in Itari's Heart before Ryth/Errilyia split (the Sundering) out of three pieces of rock that fell off Mt. Daine in a landslide. When the rocks fell, Arion's hooves landed in the Heart, hence the pure whiteness, and in the spray a few drops landed on Asain's forehead/muzzle, hence the markings there. The three siblings are sometimes called the Harbingers because they appear on the sites of battle often just before they happen, galloping around and around. Where their feet touch the ground golden flowers spring up (these flowers are called Maythor) so often battles happen in scenes of what would be idyllic beauty. You can only smell the flowers if you're fated to die in the upcoming battle. Arion, Asain, and Gyllir both represent different aspects of battle/warfare. Gyllir, as he was never touched by the waters of the Heart, is darker than both his siblings, both literally and figuratively. He symbolizes death and power, being the strongest one of the three. He often stands stock still in the epicenter of the battle, watching what's going on, which is kind of creepy. Arion symbolizes perseverance and speed: he will guide wounded/blinded soldiers to safety, sometimes even permitting them to ride on their backs. He's the swiftest living thing and races everywhere in the battlefield, seeming not to touch the ground as such is his speed. Asain symbolizes hope and valour. She heals the wounded, and her neigh is called the 'faerie's war-horn' because it literally sounds like one. She's sorta the patron saint of soldiers. ~~~ One shot in Notes & Credits
He could smell the flowers. Verron started back, his sweaty fingers almost dropping the flagpole that he had been carrying. His brown eyes widened ever so slightly and his shoulders fell along with his feystars. "You alright?" stepping over the carpet of loud yellow flowers that blanketed the mountainscape around them came Garett, their Quarter's captain, his lined face flatter than usual, matter-of-fact. He'd seen this before. Verron nodded ever so slightly and planted the flagpole in the ground, pushing it down, anchoring it for the coming battle. It would not fall. The silver flame on the flag, against the background of mauve, seemed to waver before his eyes. He knew the stories. With a flash, his mind sprang to the legends, the horses of shadow and fire that would gallop around the site of an upcoming battle; flowers would spring up wherever their hooves touched. The flowers that only those fated to die could smell. With a nod and a deep breath, the Captain turned away, walking back to the row of tents that their Quarter had set up. Verron wanted to stop him, wanted to call out and tell him, but it didn't matter. In the distance, a high keening call echoed through the silver-clear air. He could smell the flowers.
