Agnieszka
“You have a good point.” There are more than a few named locations on this continent that will disappoint his preference, unfortunately but she will leave that for the storm-clouded stallion to discover himself.
“Agnieszka.” She provides her own name in turn and then watches him for a beat before supplying the abbreviated version gently. ”Some call me Eszka.” There is magic stitched into his genes, sometimes she feels as though she can smell this on others, more specifically if there is water involved in their gift, but it could just be a superstition of hers. The point is that he fits here even if it’s not the place of his origin. Still Eszka feels a connection with him for their mutual foreignness. “I am not from here either, but it is not a bad place. There are worse.” Worse places or perhaps just worse moments. All the dead ends roads Beqanna has set her down. At least most of them didn’t end in fire, pain, and death. Where will this one go? How long will she be awake in a sun-soaked moment with a young stallion named Tumult?
Her poltergeist gets bored, rises and drifts into the tobiano mare as far as its prison will allow. There’s only a subtle change in the way the scarred body holds itself, and there is a restrained power, grace and preternatural strength in its carriage. The dark thing has only a few heartbeats to hold sway, just long enough to step up onto the bank and join the stallion, her amethyst eyes swallowing him up. It is a look like the sun gives, unwavering, blowing back the shadows. A breath, a twitch and shiver across Eszka’s grey clouded pelt. Her focus shifts, turning inward and vague before returning to Tumult as though surprised by his--no her-- new proximity to him.. “I must have drifted… what were you saying?” With her body returned to the possession of this dominant self her shape is relaxed, natural and calm once again.
If there is shame in not remembering one’s past she should be stapled to the earth by it.
an unequaled gift for disaster
@[Tumult]