A name.<br/><br/>Dawn cocked her head, her grey eyes focused intently on the ashen elf’s face, meeting her muted, fiery orbs. She wasn’t much like any of the lake elves, but even then, Ashy had never really seemed all that strange to her. A near-naked, horned elf probably<i>ought</i>to be strange, surely. Then again, after seeing all that she’d seen since leaving the Vale, not much of anything was strange to her anymore. And it wasn’t as if she knew many elves in the first place.<br/><br/>A name to give purpose. A name to be remembered even as memory faded.<br/><br/>Dawn’s expression softened from puzzlement to understanding. Ashy’s mind was like a broken basin; the old water slowly drained away faster than it could be replaced. And as water escaped, the hole widened... until all that was left was empty space. Ashy and Lilith lived as twin spirits, and where memory faded, passion ruled. But it wasn’t as if Ashy didn’t have a past. It was still there, whispered at by who she was now. Were her beautiful, glowing tattoos a message to herself, or something else entirely? It would be frustrating to know that they meant something but not<i>what</i>.<br/><br/>She shook her head. “I don’t need anything in return. And you don’t have to kneel,” she added with a small smile. “Just… hold on.”<br/><br/>A name. Not Lilith; Lilith was her violent and passionate side, the dark spirit that had been close to ravishing her or Verita before hiding in the ship’s hold, or who had torn apart the shadowy soldiers that had attacked the Aviari. And not Ashy either, because Ashy was her more playful side; that side still cared a bit about others and was driven as much by curiosity as her emotions. Ashy, who sang to herself when she thought she was alone.<br/><br/><i>Song.</i>That was what they had in common, Ashy and Lilith. They spoke in poetry and rhyme, in riddles and in verse. But there had to be more to it than that. ‘Poet’ wasn’t much of a name, really. Then… what?<br/><br/>It came to her suddenly, in a flash of perfect light, and she grinned a wide, happy smile.<br/><br/>“There’s power in names, isn’t there?” she asked cheerily, spinning slightly on one foot. “Even if a rose always smells the same, its name still calls that smell to mind. Even if we called the flower something else, it wouldn’t have any meaning until the word was completely replaced in our heads - and then<i>that</i>name would have power, instead.”<br/><br/>She waved her hand dismissively, still smiling. “I think I have something. A name to hold you to who I think you are and to our journey, until the end. A name with more meaning than the colour of your skin or some silly legend.” A quiet breeze drifted through the trees above them and gentle rustling filling the air. Dawn placed her hands on the elf’s shoulders, gazing right into her blindfolded eyes. “You are a weaver of rhymes and of songs, a person of raw passion and will. We need more than light and truth to face the darkness again. What are light and truth without inspiration, without passion?”<br/><br/>Dawn bit her lip, suddenly feeling rather silly. What if the elf didn’t like the name? What if it wasn’t what she had wanted? She hadn’t hesitated to call her Ashy, but this felt so much more… serious. “Your name can be Muse, if you’d like. It reminds me of when I heard you singing to yourself in the lake near Arebion. The words were ancient and beautiful. It suits you, I think.”<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>