Author's Note: So this is an idea that's been bouncing around in my head for a while...eventually, I'll do one for each Heron (including Thorn and Lydia, naturally), but let's start with just Hal.
Hal's mind was a library.
A library with endless shelves, with books and scrolls, arranged in an order that would be incomprehensible to anyone who wasn't Hal. A library that was equal parts maze and death trap and invaluable resource, with hundreds of dead ends and booby traps that would spell death to any invader - or Hal himself, if he took a wrong turn and picked up the wrong book.
Each book was a recollection, a memory, a dream, an idea, a could-have-been or a reminder. Each scroll was a warning, a prediction, or advice. Everyone he'd ever met was in their own room, and all he had to do was walk in and he could talk to them, even if they weren't there. He roamed the paths between the shelves, dancing around traps and dead ends with expert precision. After all, it is his mind.
But even with all the defenses he's put in place, wood and paper burn so easily.
Hal's heart was the sea.
A sea of grays and whites and blues of every shade. A sea where the whales sang their songs in the deep and the sharks were held at bay by a great sea-snake, where graceful seabirds dove for fish to eat, and where waves broke on shores that never came. A sea that extended endlessly past the horizon, and down to the darkest depths. A sea within his mind-library, his next line of defense if his mind could not hold.
Each eye was a memory, each scale a dream, each tooth an idea. Everyone he knew lived in the white crests of the sea foam, the highlights and shadows of the choppy storm waters, the varying colors on the surface. He lived in the same place - in the currents, the eddies, the ripples of the water when the wind blew across it. In his heart-sea, he needed nothing, and nothing could reach him.
The sea was his safety, as long as the snake stayed in place. If the sharks broke free, he would be torn apart.
Hal's soul was a ship.
A ship of graceful lines and smooth wooden boards that fit together perfectly. A ship with a carved heron for a figurehead and a heron stitched into her sail. A ship that sang the song of the wind in her sails and the sea beneath her hull, where the salty spray rained down on the deck. A ship that never lacked for wind in her sails, a ship that needed no oars, only a rudder to steer her. A ship that sailed on his heart-sea, swift and beautiful, that could weather any storm. A ship that was his last hope, if his mind broke and his heart failed.
Each crew member was a person he loved - a brother, a sister, a mother, a father, a friend. Each board was something he cared for. Each thread in her sail was something he must remember, and every stitch was him. The stitches were what he was, and if one failed...
It was not a fate Hal spent much time contemplating. His soul-ship must be kept in pristine condition, no matter what.
For without his ship and his crew - and all that comes with it - he is nothing.