08-30-2019, 08:00 AM
Her husband had spoken in passing of a conversation with Aten, so when the champagne stallion mentions it, Lepis is not blindsided. She has been expecting this even, and her blue-grey eyes flick across his face curiously. He is rather composed despite what she expects he must be feeling internally, and the dun mare admires his composure. Her own gifts make such an ability easier to master, but Aten appears calm even without magical aid. A good choice of diplomat, she thinks to herself, even if her prefers to thinks of himself as primarily a defender of their forest. After a year with no rebellions though, this also comes as no surprise. She had been certain of herself when she had come to Aten, and that confidence remains much as the champagne stallion remains a stalwart presence in the Taiga.
She listens, her expression nothing more than curious. When he mentions disappointment though, the mare cannot help but smile. In his position she cannot feeling something so light as disappointment. She has always been a creature of mercurial emotion though, the same is not true for Aten.
He has no reason to distrust her leadership, he says, no reason yet. Will he finally have his reason after he’s heard the history that he is so curious about?
Perhaps, she thinks, but it does not occur to her to lie to him. She has been dwelling on her history of late, having been told that Aten might ask soon by Wolfbane, and so the words come out more smoothly than they might have were she unexpectedly ambushed by the request.
“I don’t often speak of my history.” She tells him, but despite the firmness of this statement, it is clear from her body language that it is not all that she has to say. Indeed, she takes a breath and glances up at the open sky overhead.
“I was born in Loess, and my father made me Queen the moment I was foaled, the moment he left us.” Being abandoned by a parent starts off her story, but there is no sadness in her gaze -she cannot mourn the loss of a man she had never met. “I won’t pretend I was not a headstrong and spoiled child, but I ruled a quiet kingdom and what mistakes I made were tempered by my mother and uncle Castile, who were to be my regents when I came of age. I fell in love – in what I thought was love – with a handsome stallion from Sylva, and made him my king.” Here she falls quiet, because for all her preparation she still must block the memories of the grey Arthas from driving the knife of guilt between her ribs.
“He gave me to the clown king of Sylva as a gift, to show good will between our lands.” This is said sharply, each word bitter, but she glances down from where her gaze has wandered to the trees. “I was beaten and tortured for a year by the residents of the kingdom, and Arthas brought me home only after King Modicum Mortem broke both my wings and raped me.”
“I met Wolfbane while recovering in Loess, and he…he saved me.” Here at last she smiles again, but it is a bittersweet thing, one that only softens as she looks up to meet Aten’s eyes. “You already know about the loss of our son. I came to Taiga as part of a plan to make Beqanna safe, so that no one might suffer what I did – what my son did. I am sick and tired of pain and suffering.” That her plan is less than orthodox, perhaps Aten has already guess. Takeovers of quiet territories are not the most ordinary means of assuring individual safety. But she is not exactly an ordinary mare.
“I understand your curiosity,” she adds, because she too is driven by questions, “But I do ask that this is the first and last time we speak of my past. I will answer more questions if you have them, but then I would like the sun to set on this.” She can’t force him to understand (well, she could but that would undermine the infant trust that is beginning to build between them), but there are parts of everyone’s past that they would rather not see light too often.
ooc: no worries! i'm glad you're able to be back at BQ now!
@[Aten]
She listens, her expression nothing more than curious. When he mentions disappointment though, the mare cannot help but smile. In his position she cannot feeling something so light as disappointment. She has always been a creature of mercurial emotion though, the same is not true for Aten.
He has no reason to distrust her leadership, he says, no reason yet. Will he finally have his reason after he’s heard the history that he is so curious about?
Perhaps, she thinks, but it does not occur to her to lie to him. She has been dwelling on her history of late, having been told that Aten might ask soon by Wolfbane, and so the words come out more smoothly than they might have were she unexpectedly ambushed by the request.
“I don’t often speak of my history.” She tells him, but despite the firmness of this statement, it is clear from her body language that it is not all that she has to say. Indeed, she takes a breath and glances up at the open sky overhead.
“I was born in Loess, and my father made me Queen the moment I was foaled, the moment he left us.” Being abandoned by a parent starts off her story, but there is no sadness in her gaze -she cannot mourn the loss of a man she had never met. “I won’t pretend I was not a headstrong and spoiled child, but I ruled a quiet kingdom and what mistakes I made were tempered by my mother and uncle Castile, who were to be my regents when I came of age. I fell in love – in what I thought was love – with a handsome stallion from Sylva, and made him my king.” Here she falls quiet, because for all her preparation she still must block the memories of the grey Arthas from driving the knife of guilt between her ribs.
“He gave me to the clown king of Sylva as a gift, to show good will between our lands.” This is said sharply, each word bitter, but she glances down from where her gaze has wandered to the trees. “I was beaten and tortured for a year by the residents of the kingdom, and Arthas brought me home only after King Modicum Mortem broke both my wings and raped me.”
“I met Wolfbane while recovering in Loess, and he…he saved me.” Here at last she smiles again, but it is a bittersweet thing, one that only softens as she looks up to meet Aten’s eyes. “You already know about the loss of our son. I came to Taiga as part of a plan to make Beqanna safe, so that no one might suffer what I did – what my son did. I am sick and tired of pain and suffering.” That her plan is less than orthodox, perhaps Aten has already guess. Takeovers of quiet territories are not the most ordinary means of assuring individual safety. But she is not exactly an ordinary mare.
“I understand your curiosity,” she adds, because she too is driven by questions, “But I do ask that this is the first and last time we speak of my past. I will answer more questions if you have them, but then I would like the sun to set on this.” She can’t force him to understand (well, she could but that would undermine the infant trust that is beginning to build between them), but there are parts of everyone’s past that they would rather not see light too often.
ooc: no worries! i'm glad you're able to be back at BQ now!
@[Aten]
