I made some floppy ear ponies from @specklesthetinynerdhorse open species, their names are gypsy star and starry day

Crepusculum flew up to the very peak of the mountain and let her powers shine through just after she landed. The sky lightened, becoming twilight.

It was a cold splash on a warm day, a tingling sensation in her veins. Her time was short, but she made every second last. Every detail was perfect in the sky. The same color as it was a thousand years ago. Closing her eyes, Crepusculum tried to take it all in. Every inch of that feeling of power.

“Careful to not fall off,” her brother said. She opened her eyes to look at him.

Avgí was smiling at her kindly. They were the same words he had said her for the past couple centuries. It had become boring after just a month.

“I won’t and you need to change up your introductions,” Crepusculum responded.

In fact, he was the one awfully close to the edge. It took quite a bit in her to not tear him from it. Gods can’t die, but they most definitely can feel pain.

Taming her older sibling nature, she stayed still and looked back to the sky. Her magic was fading as the sun peeked over the horizon. Dawn was here.

She patted her brother on the back, his face now a bit more concentrated. He gave her one last smile and a nod before she took to the skies and only landed when she reached a cave by the shore.

Tiptoeing her way in, Crepusculum glanced around, searching for somebody. She kept walking silently until said cave opened up into a ballroom size, not some pitiful space. And in it, was somebody she was quite happy to see.

“Mama!” Crepusculum exclaimed running forward to see her. She lover her other mom, Iméra, she really did. But it was always nice to see Nÿchta after a long night. Same was true the opposite way. Still, there was joy in her heart as her mama wrapped her arms around her shoulders and gave her hug.

“My sweet girl, how are you?” Nÿchta asked. Squeezing her tight one last time she let go, placing her hands on Crepusculum’s arms instead. She looked at her sincerely, as she always did.

Her mama had a big thing honestly and truthful words. Always spotting a lie in its tracks, Nÿchta never let her get away with anything. But if she was anything, it was a great mother (and a great warrior, though her kids always came first).

“I’m doing good,” she said with a smile. Her only response was some eyebrows rising in suspicion.

She could never get away with anything.

“I have to stay with mom for the day. There was some soldiers discussing invading the forest and the mountain. She doesn’t quite yet know what to do, and quite frankly neither do I. She wants to talk about with me, since I was there.”

Nÿchta’s eyebrows pinched together. “Yes, I do believe I heard some drunks saying that yesterday, but I had thought they were intoxicated enough that they had gone slightly crazy. It appears only the king has gone crazy,” she said with the shake of her head and a sigh. Seeing all, Crepusculum’s mama was often disappointed with humanity. About as a much as she felt joy for them.

The day was for everybody, each person who would wake up in the morning. Mostly good came from it and the sun rising above. Everybody was often transparent, carrying throughout their day without a blemish. It was so unlike night, where people did something the they would take to the grave. Secrets began to whisper between the leaves as the moon rose. This difference is exactly what separated her parents. Her mom was the embodiment of night, often secretive and sly. This would have been alright, since they were mostly just fun pranks and things that cause quiet giggles, if Nÿchta wasn’t the embodiment of day, through and through. But she was.

Crepusculum had seen many different people but none had skin as dark as her mama, something that protected her from the power of the sun well. Her figure was wonderfully chubby, crops always growing during the day because of the sun. Scars from yesterday and centuries stuck to her skin, from all the fighting in the kingdom. It was a large difference from Iméra, who was a pale as ghost (in all honesty, Crepusculum thought that if her skin would ever see the sun, it would quite literally crumble into ashes) and was exceptionally scrawny, which often worked to her mom’s advantage. People almost always trusted the small, young woman thinking she could do no harm. And that was the horrifying difference. Nÿchta needed honesty and Iméra needed her secrets, something their pride was to fond of to let go. But they both had scars. Both had felt the pain of the people. That and their children is what truly connected them.

“Yes, and we have to stop him before he causes more damage,” Crepusculum said. With teetering caution, she began to say, “I’m sure if you and mom worked together it would be easy to stop him. You would just have t-“

“No, I’m sorry,” Nÿchta interrupted. “I can’t do that. I have my followers, but there is a particular favorite. She will be sent on a quest.”

Crepusculum nodded understanding there was no way to convince her otherwise. Night and Day never touched and there was reason for it.

“Alright mama, I have to go. Are you okay?” Crepusculum tentatively asked.

“Of course. Soúroupo will stay with me then. I love you, see you soon,” Nÿchta answered.

“Don’t put daggers in your bra,” the goddess said exasperated.

“It’s inconvenient to stick a hand down your shirt in battle, not with the majority of men in this world. Plus, it may stab you. Keep it strapped to your thigh. It’s quicker and you know that you won’t grab the wrong end,” she continued. Her daughter gave her a bit of an a long suffering look, but obediently moved her hand down to the pocket and fit the small knife between the folds of her dress instead.

“What’s the dagger going to do me? It’s all stuffing,” Crepusculum bartered back, crossing her arms. And with a slick smile she added, “Not only that, but I intend to use it against unsuspecting and arrogant men who think they might own me. What a lovely surprise it would be for them, I think.”

Iméra’s pride bloomed as she looked at her daughter. She would love her daughter no matter what, but there was something special about knowing that she got her evil cleverness from somewhere. And as she looked at her, it was then that a reminder of what time was like to a goddess was thrown in her face. Being immortal changed everything, causing memories to muddle. She was more ancient then the earth, but her daughter was only a few thousands years old. If this were to be human years, she’d be a teenager (perhaps that explained the attitude, but she did enjoy harmless arguments). In fact, it was only a few centuries ago that she had called her daughter a son. The thought seemed so wrong compared to Crepusculum now. With lightly brown skin, dark freckles everywhere, a hooked nose, and hair styled in lovely braids, the only thing that stood out was her confidence. It was melded into her very skin, a part of her through and through. When had that happened? It made Iméra joyous that her daughter knew her worth, but despite seeing her every night, it was only now that she saw what had been so obvious.

With a soft look, she disregarded Crepusculum’s earlier comment and murmured, “You’ve grown.” It was more to herself than anybody else, but the goddess of twilight cocked her head at the words. They rung true, impossibly so. It was strange, that timeless feeling when your memories weigh so much that they start to crash together and become the best of friends.

She thought Twilight might say something when there was a crack of a branch. A disturbance in the silent night. And it carried fear when the voice of a man kept that silence at bay.

“We have orders and we will follow them.”

Swift as a deer, Night herself was hiding when the moon was at its highest, and her power was at its peak. But she knew that meant these men could see her. Twilight only stood still, invisible to the mortal eye. Her time was not yet here.

“The king may be cruel, but now his viciousness fights with his arrogance,” a second voice called out.

These men had no care for the animals that dwelled in the forest. They yelled as if they were free from the natural order of the universe. Perhaps they were, with their weapons swinging from their holsters. A disturbance in the food chain. It was part of a simple education that a foreign predator in a region where no one species could keep them humble, would destroy everything. Yet, mortal humans still wandered across every bit of land they could find.

She opened her ears.

“This is a sacred forest, Amal. And that a sacred mountain.” He pointed towards the mountain high above them, and so far “Why would the king send troops where we will die at the hands of the gods,” exclaimed the second voice again.

The first man, Amal, responded in a cautious tone.

“I do not know why. Perhaps the king is trying to make a treaty with the immortals. Perhaps he is trying to start a war. However, we will listen to what he says. We made an oath of loyalty to the throne. Do not forget it, Porlan.”

“Serving our king before serving those we worship is a disgrace to the very foundations of our beliefs- our world.”

“I said do not forget your oath,” Amal snapped. “Or would you like for me to speak of your words to the general. You’d be repaid kindly for them. Yes, a slit on your throat would suit you well.”

Porlan went quiet. A moment later their footsteps continued, hitting the ground stiffer than before.

Did you know divine beings can still throw up? With enough churning of the stomach it can be done. Bile filling her throat was the first sign that that was what’s about to happen. The world spun and she placed her head against the very tree she still stood behind. Iméra forgot herself for a moment, only to have hands draw her back.

Crepusculum held her mother gently. It was a strange feeling, comforting someone, when that very same discomfort wraps around you as well.

“Deep breaths.” Iméra heard the words but they left her mind quickly. She stood taller, removing her mind from plant, bark indents on her forehead. Only then did she follow orders. With a new determination she spoke.

“I will know why they walk on my land. I do care however. They will still face the consequences.” Her daughter didn’t argue, so she continued. “Please have one of your brothers cover your shift today. I understand you usually take them, but I’d like to discuss this with you.”

She turned to look at Crepusculum, remembering she was not in this alone. She had to be the one comforting those during hardships, not the other way around.

“And you deserve the rest. Though it’s your choice.” She genuinely meant every word.

Hey guys, the new page of Starry Day is up : D

Hey, this kid doesn’t seem so bad after all, right?

Wait, the latest page at www.starryday.net is giving me a different vibe!

I think after using this Banner for the past year, it's finally time for a makeover. I'll give you guys a sneak peek when I can.