Welcome to Gaia! ::

Modera closed her eyes as she tilted her head back, feeling the warmth of the sunlight washing over her face and throat. It was a strange feeling, being in the sunlight, but a positive one. It had taken her far too long to break away from the grip of the grove, the shadowy, gloomy site of one of the last battles of the Kalona war. Modera hadn’t fought in that war, but she had served as a healer and medic during several of the region’s fights. When the fighting finally ended, she had struggled with her emotions; relief that the violence had ended warred with a strange sense of depression; for the first time in her life, she had truly felt a sense of purpose, like she was really needed; the end of the fighting had marked the end of that need.

So she had lingered at the site of the final battle, dwelling on the past and mingling with the pilgrims who came to pay respect to the fallen. In those conversations, she was able to relieve her days of purpose, of passion; and in a few cases, she was even able to use her healing gifts.

But enough was enough, and she had finally managed to wrench herself out of the grove and, finally, back into the daylight.

You know, daylight felt nice…

The sunlight felt so wonderful, Modera was positive she would be happy to simply stand here, basking, until she fell asleep. But after several long, pleasant minutes of enjoyment, she realized with a slight sigh that it really wouldn’t do to just stand there like a lump, particularly in such an exposed area. She might not have personally suffered during the war, but she’d be lying if she said it hadn’t made her wary. There would be plenty of time to enjoy the sun while she was on the move, and she’s be a bit more focused.

So she started off, heading nowhere in particular. All that she was after was a change of scenery; something new and different to help bring her back into the present. Hopefully she would be able to retain her sense of purpose, even without constant tragedy to feed it.

She might have missed the spotted mare, were it not for a fortuitous gleam of sunlight on the other mare’s horn. At first, Modera thought it might be a dragonfly’s wing, but closer inspection made her realize it was another Soquili; specifically, another unicorn. She smiled; perhaps this could be a nice little interlude! Raising her voice slightly, she called out to the other mare, “Good day to you!”

At the other mare's confession, Modera felt her interest perking. Lost? That might be something Modera could help with. Yes, it had been months since she'd last been mobile, but it would take more than a few months for her to forget her way about this region. After all, she had lived here for years! So she smiled at the other mare in her friendliest manner, giving her a short, cordial nod as she did so. "Well, I'm finding it to be a lovely day so far, warm and pleasant. But as I know where I am, I've been able to step back and enjoy the weather."

Having reached a comfortable conversational distance, Modera stopped and smoothed back her unruly braid. "It's been a bit since I've traveled around the area, but I've lived in the vicinity for years. Is there anything I could help you with, perhaps?" She paused again, then smiled. "I don't bite, I promise. And my name is Modera."

Modera felt a wave of pity strike her as she surveyed the other mare; to be lost, without knowing where she even planned on going? Modera was no expert, but that sounded to her like a mare who had more going on in her life than merely not knowing where she was physically. Though that was a daunting thought, Modera felt her unexpectedly warming to the mare; perhaps she could be of some service to this mare; perhaps that would give her back the sense of purpose she had been lacking.

"I'd be happy to show you around, Daylene...and I would be happy to tell you what I know about being a unicorn." Daylene's confession of ignorance about unicorn powers was surprising, but only reaffirmed what Modera had though moments before; this was something she needed to do! "Yes, I have the power to heal...and I'm sure you do, too. This might be a personal question, but are you a full-blooded unicorn?"

Modera had never been a very maternal mare. While she had always felt called to instruct and teach, she had never felt draw to children, or to the parent-child dynamic. Her own memories of her youth were best forgotten; her parents hadn't really been the 'warm and fuzzy' type. However, whatever their faults, they had still been her parents; she knew them by name as well as sight, and had learned many important lessons from them. It had been a blow when they died, but not a devastating one; a sure sign that theirs was not a relationship to idolize.

But as she listened to Daylene, she felt an odd surge of pity for the other mare. Modera had something the other mare didn't: a sense of her own history. How many other Soquili were in the same predicament as Daylene, unsure of even their own bloodlines?

"Well, I don't think it can matter too much, whether or not you're a pure unicorn, Daylene. You look like one, so even if you have some other genes, the unicorn blood seems to be the strongest," Modera said after a few long moments of thought. "And your instincts are good as well, which does you credit. I know we unicorns are said to be drawn to healing; I can't speak for the race in general, but you certainly seem to fill that sterotype," she added with a smile. "It sounds like you had a great role model in your youth, and I'm happy to help you out now. So..." She said with an exhale, then chuckled. "I don't suppose you have any injuries?"

If the other mare knew how off-base her question was, perhaps she would have laughed. Keeping Modera from anything? If anything, Daylene’s presence was providing the catalyst she needed to finally have something to potentially be kept from! Modera had spent far too long watching and waiting, knowing she needed to once again seek out her purpose but feeling no desire to do so. With Daylene’s innocent request, she had provided that purpose, giving the older mare a sensation of accomplishment like she hadn't felt in months. But there was no irony, only seriousness, in Modera’s tone and expression as she replied with a slight shake of her head, “No, there is nothing else I had intended to do. As long as you have the time and inclination, I’m free to work with you on this.” And she wouldn't be lying if she said she hoped both the time and inclination would be abundant!

It was a pity from a teaching standpoint that the other mare had no injuries, because, since Modera had none either, they’d have to be creative. But while seeking out an injured party was an option, it was not one Modera relished. It was a rare thing these past few weeks to run into another Soquili at all, let alone one with any sort of injury. No, if they wanted to start on this lesson any time soon, they would need to pursue a different tack. With a slight shake of her head, she dismissed the idea. “No, it could take us days to find a Soquili with an existing injury; I’m afraid this region isn't very heavily populated at the moment. But that’s ok; if no injury exists, then we’ll just come up with one.” With that, Modera bent her head to one of her own front legs, gently pressing the tip of her horn against the skin. Taking a deep breath as she did so, she leaned in and cut a small, neat gash about an inch long into her leg, then drew back with a somewhat clipped, “That should be a good size to practice on, I’d say.” And it hadn't hurt TOO much to inflict, thank goodness. It would have severely undermined her credibility as a teacher to not only purposely hurt herself, but wail while doing it! “Do you know how to begin How to begin the healing process, that is?”

At the other mare's concern, Modera was mildly surprised; mildly, because she realized it was probably weird to be self-harming, and surprised at all because in spite of what Daylene suggested, it wasn't really plausible to wait around for someone else. What were the odds that they'd be stumbling into an already injured Soquili any time soon? Heck, the odds of running into another Soquili at all in this part of the world seemed rather remote, so Modera wasn't going to hold her breath that an injured one would be appearing in the near future.

Still, she supposed, it was nice of Daylene to be concerned, even if her concerns stemmed from a place of implausibility. So she smiled at the other mare, even as she shrugged off the words of care. "Don't worry, this is nothing. An exercise, nothing more; I've been on the receiving end of a lot worse." This was true, although those worse wounds had never been intentional, or at least not inflicted by her own horn! "And you're off to a good start," she said in what she hoped was an encouraging tone as the other mare stepped forward. Clearly nervous, Modera noted, and clearly unsure. She knew the basic mechanics, but that seemed to be it. Still, at least she knew the most important thing: the horn goes to the wound!

In her most patient, teacherly voice, she began to offer correction. "Well, you're off to a good start; you want to touch the tip of your horn to the wound, but you want the touch to be as gentle as possible. Remember, wounds hurt, and poking them will only make them hurt more. If your patient is badly injured, you're going to want to try to calm them down first, to get them to hold still while you work. The last thing you want is for your patient to be thrashing about and accidentally impale him or herself on your horn! Even if you can heal it, it'll take more time and energy. And depending on the situation, those might not be things you have available." Perhaps this was a bit much to dump on Daylene before she even started, but Modera had always believed in the power of information. There was a lot to be said for thoroughness!

At any rate, Modera shortly realized that she herself was already calm and was hardly going to be leaping and capering about while Daylene tried to heal her. "Anyway, once your patient is calm, you gently touch the wound, exactly like you're doing. But the important part is to concentrate very hard on healing the wound. You want to...well, for lack of a better phrase, channel those positive thoughts of wholeness and healing through your horn, into the tissue. Without the will to heal, the action is meaningless." Realizing she'd just dumped a ton of information on the mare, Modera gave her another encouraging smile. "The will to heal is the difference between the horn being an instrument of violence and an instrument of healing."