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It had been a strange sight indeed the past month. With the Scarelings celebrating an odd other world festival. Valentine's Day. The theme of love. Pink, red and white hearts everywhere. Joy. The exchange of what they called Scarentines. It was all so....

She had watched many Scarelings seem to pair off more often during this time. Spending her time watching and studying them. Faiyum and her's plan to find out more about the denizens and their technology of this world. And certainly this whole concept had something behind it worth studying.

Though in her culture when one had affections for another you were pretty straight forward. No lavishing of expensive gifts or garbled poetry. Perhaps those who vied for your attention would bring you gifts, something of course. A new plant or perhaps an animal skin. Falair would not mind a new blanket for her bed or pots to keep tea leaves in.

But after this whole celebration was said and done it left Falair pondering for a short while after. Her brain rattled away at random and it was quite tiresome. This whole concept of love was tiresome really. But it was hard not to get swept up in it. Daydreaming.

She had been sorting powders and dried plants into their respective pots when a particularly strong daydream came to her. A familiar sun tanned face with a sharp jaw line and hair as black as obsidian. A face that perhaps at one time she could have seen herself spending the rest of her days with. Back then their bond had been strong. They had grown up with each other, running the streets of their desert island together with a whole gaggle of other kids. Causing mischief as children did.

As time went on Falair had grown more and more into her work. And thinking back on it she could see where it had all begun to fall apart. The happy times they spent in each other's company became few and far between. Him becoming a solider and leaving for a distant out post. There was a time she had begged him not to go, she would stop her studies and attend to him properly if he would just stay. But in the end he did leave. A few short lined letters here and there but for the most part communication had stopped. Her interest in chasing idle dreams outside of her work stopped.

In the end though, Falair would have given it all up for him. But he could not see what a significant things that was for her. And it broke her heart. They had their duties to the Clan he said. Her's was here and his there.

It wasn't fair how the Scarelings were so flippant about all of it. Of love. Their relationships seemed to be fluid. One ghoul would have a new boilfriend every week. Pair bonding seemed....irrelevant.

A pot fell from the table and snapped Falair from her thoughts. Brown eyes stared down at the shattered clay. She had come to start resenting them for their carefree ways. Wrapping her arms around her, she let her eyes slip closed as a soft sigh passed through her lips behind her mask.

The young mare would give it all up for someone to love her that way.

But she would never let anyone know that, not at the risk of loosing herself again.

Outsiders at first glance might not have believed it, but music was very much a part of the Famine clan as it were for any other. Perhaps theirs was a bit more heidenist when you had a nice, roaring bon fire going. But there was elegance in Famine music as well.

But not only instrumental music. Many Famine members adorned themselves with bells, beads, even coins that make motion music. An elegant sweep of one's hand or the tilt of one's head could insight music into a Horseman's very being.

Falair's favorite instrument to produce music with though was always bells. You could strike a harsh note with a hard jerk. Or a soft tinkling noise with a gentle touch. Build up suspense into one loud, roaring rapture. Or play a lullaby to which one might doze into slumber.

But music was everywhere. All you had to do was listen. Insects made music. The bees buzzing, crickets chirping. The trees hummed a vibration that only a hand could feel and their leaves rustled softly in the breeze. Thunder storms and their rumbling, the torrent of rain drops. Everything was music.

Even the Insanity. It was a inky black shadow with it's own sour yellow note. But it still made music. And if you listened too closely it might draw you in, never letting go until all you could hear was it's symphony of madness.

But enough about the Insanity. Falair was more focused on her own music. While in a shop not too long ago she had found a set of bells that were similar to one's that belonged to her family. Many times as a child she would play with them, but only while under the watchful gaze of her parents. They did not wish for the bells to become broken for they were dear to them. And so the bells had become dear to Falair as well. When the Island fell she felt a great loss for those bells. They were a memory of a happier time.

While the new ones she had bought were no real replacement for those. They did bring her joy every time she would play one of those timeless songs that mother and father had taught her. Running her fingers over the cold metal, she enjoyed the feel of the cuts and engravins upon the surface. There was no particular meaning to them. Merely to adjust the sound of the bell and decoration.

Falair carefully lifted one and gave it a light shake. Closing her eyes as she savored the sound reverberating against the walls of her home.