djinni;

[Nayl]

She spun the stars on her fingernails There was only the sound of crashing waves and a salty breeze. She left it behind her again, one of countless times that she abandoned her post at Nerine to seek conversation elsewhere. It doesn’t seem right there. Her heart isn’t thrumming with the excitement of a new land and new cause. In fact, her heart is gradually loosening its grip on the sisterhood. Nothing is what it once was which was the reasoning behind Beqanna’s rebirth, but Nayl is struggling to adapt. The shore is a place of death. When the sand cradles her hooves and her eyes drink in the bitterness of the sea, she only sees her mother’s swollen, rotted corpse. She sees the milky eyes of historic figures and their lost tales. She sees morbidity. With their numbers seemingly dwindling Nayl has taken refuge again elsewhere, but this time she is in search of company instead of fleeing it. Her autumn eyes sweep quickly over the meadow until she identifies the familiar grullo face in the heavy crowd. A sister, for lack of a better term, although the sense of the word is dying in their home. ”Djinni,” she says her name as more of a friend than an acquaintance now and her eyes are brighter, more curious. ”Nerine is quieter by the day,” she adds while settling comfortably at the mare’s side. A moment passes that she doesn’t speak and simply reflects on the time elapse of events since Beqanna’s rebirth. Then, rather placidly, she asks, ”Have you regained your powers?” Nayl covet and myrina's creation

@[kahzie]

[Djinni]

Djinni loves the sea.

The sound of waves lulls her to sleep each night, sometimes when she stands on the shore, and sometimes when she is tucked next to the sleek grey bodies of the dolphins that have so readily accepted her. The grey-green surface of the sea is ever changing and reminds her of the dunes of her childhood even more than the granite sand that lies beneath her hooves.

She knows that those who feel the same are few and far between, and as she meets the orange gaze of Nayl ,she is reminded that the tobiano mare is not one of them. Perhaps if she had spent her whole life in one place Djinni might feel the same as the pied mare, but she does not. A home is home whether it is filled with waves or squawking parrots.

"Is it?" Answers the grullo mare, "And here I thought that we'd finally reached utter silence with the absence of our ruling trio." The words and tone are utterly serious, but the crooked smile and dancing eyes of the grey mare are anything but. Nayl changes the tone of the conversation rather quickly, and Djinni, ever mischievous, is intrigued.

"Perhaps," she says slyly as she darkens her coloring and bulks up her build until a flawless replica of Naga stands in the place where Djinni had once been. "What about you?"

[Nayl]

She spun the stars on her fingernails If the sisterhood seemed more tangible, more real, then perhaps Nayl would allow herself to look upon it with more openness, but alas, her mind still twists around the shores where death lies. Their herd is diminishing and further convincing her of the morbidity that is tied with the geographic region. When she looks at the sand she sees rust-colored blood aged by the sun; she sees carcasses and tears. She doesn’t see hope. She doesn’t see a light or feel a tug in her heart guiding her back to the region. It doesn’t call to her as the Jungle had. After so many months of mulling it over Nayl is considering the prospect that the land isn’t for her, that the disassembling band of women no longer hold her loyalty (is she awful to even consider this?). Hearing Djinni comment on the fall of their leaders incites an amused grin to tug at the corners of the piebald’s lips. ”It’s amazing how quickly not one - but three - leaders can fall so quickly into a lull.” She hadn’t been initially approving and it’s proving to be a true premonition now. Their band of horses is withering under their leadership and Nayl is at an impasse as to what she should be doing. Her stomach writhes and twists while her thoughtful eyes skim the meadow before looking at Djinni again. ”It shouldn’t be tolerated,” but she doesn’t want to take a land of death and fallen promises. Perhaps there is hope elsewhere, a better option that lies in an unexplored mist to the northwest. Pursing her lips shut Nayl considers the options, but she doesn’t voice them aloud. Everything is meticulously weighed, her soul and mind groping hastily for answers until she looks up and hears the mischievous tone in Djinni’s voice. It happens quickly, her shifting, and Nayl stands in awe and curiosity as a replica of their Queen stands before them. ”An interesting trick indeed,” her tail sweeps across her haunches, her grin curling until the question is reciprocated. Taught muscles flinch beneath her coat and she blinks slowly. ”No, not yet,” her head turns and she peers up at the towering mountain, ”but soon.” It won’t be long until she is at the feet of the faeries humbly throwing her pleas to them so that she may begin filling the missing holes in her soul, the gaps where magic had once pieced her together. ”Soon, my secrets will remain just that: mine. No one will be able to see into my mind.” They won’t know her scheming. They won’t know about Djinni’s useful trick. Nayl covet and myrina's creation

@[kahzie]

[Djinni]

"Perhaps that's what happens when they choose themselves rather than being chosen." She replies mildly.

Djinni had tagged along when the small band was already en route to the oceanside, so she had been absent for the ascension of the queen and her two hands. Still, it had not been difficult to piece together enough information to know that Naga had fashioned herself queen, and then chosen a former general - and perhaps a former queen, Djinni has not had a chance to pry for more information about Lgaertha - and a former...something to assist her.

Since the fallout over the proposed spiritual caste, Djinni has seen nothing of any of the three mares. Perhaps they are too embarrassed to show their faces anymore, though at least Lagertha had the brains to oppose the most ludicrous suggestions. She knows that the rest of the new Beqanna has fallen equally still, a side effect of great change that any scholar of history could have easily predicted.

Nayl says that such silence shouldn't be tolerated, and while Djinni is in agreement, she's not one to be the first to propose change. Let others do that; she has been thinking these things since the moment the plans for the new sisterhood were made clear. The grullo mare follows the other's gaze up the mountain, her ears flicking as she nods her head in understanding.

She glances around them for a brief moment and then asks, clearly conspiratorial: And what secrets do you have to hide?"