02-15-2025, 07:24 AM
The palomino mare stands at the edge of the water, her pale eyes on the distant horizon. The flowers that bloom around her hooves add a sweet scent to the warm salt air, a perfume so familiar that the horned queen rarely notices it. Not so the presence of the flowers, growing from sprout to fluorescence in only moments wherever she sets her hooves, even in the shallow water and sand of the shore upon which she stands.
The magic of them is in her crown, the vining greenery that twists about Myrna’s own spiraling horns. The blossoming kingdom is reflected in the crown, or perhaps the kingdom mirrors the crown. She recalls discovering it, and it is that she thinks of as she watches dark clouds gather over the summer sea. A thunderstorm is coming.
The wind that brings in the storm tugs at Myrna’s white mane, which is unadorned now, though once she had rarely been seen without flowers of her own woven in. She is no longer the young mare that had first claimed the crown, though her pale coat hides the silvering of her hair, and her immortality, healing, and the presence of a magical waterfall that heals all ills make for a potent anti-aging blend.
It is the children that had made her feel her age, Myrna thinks, her mind turning to the twins Ravin and Luvi. They’re growing quickly, and Ravin - the bolder - has been venturing away from the Gates. How long will they stay, she wonders? She wants it to be forever, the way that Luvi says it will be, but she also knows that there is infinite time for change in the future. Someday, Luvi might want to leave. Someday Ravin might want to go to.
Does she want to go, Myrna wonders?
Is she still happy here?
She is content and safe and at peace here in the Gates.
But Happy?
In the depths of her heart, Mynra knows that it is not the Gates that is the issue. This is something within her, something that will not be mended by a change in location. She sighs, not wanting to think of that, and turns back in toward the heart of the kingdom. The storm will be on them within a few hours, so she is not especially quick as she wanders along well worn paths, her blue-grey eyes seeking company.
The magic of them is in her crown, the vining greenery that twists about Myrna’s own spiraling horns. The blossoming kingdom is reflected in the crown, or perhaps the kingdom mirrors the crown. She recalls discovering it, and it is that she thinks of as she watches dark clouds gather over the summer sea. A thunderstorm is coming.
The wind that brings in the storm tugs at Myrna’s white mane, which is unadorned now, though once she had rarely been seen without flowers of her own woven in. She is no longer the young mare that had first claimed the crown, though her pale coat hides the silvering of her hair, and her immortality, healing, and the presence of a magical waterfall that heals all ills make for a potent anti-aging blend.
It is the children that had made her feel her age, Myrna thinks, her mind turning to the twins Ravin and Luvi. They’re growing quickly, and Ravin - the bolder - has been venturing away from the Gates. How long will they stay, she wonders? She wants it to be forever, the way that Luvi says it will be, but she also knows that there is infinite time for change in the future. Someday, Luvi might want to leave. Someday Ravin might want to go to.
Does she want to go, Myrna wonders?
Is she still happy here?
She is content and safe and at peace here in the Gates.
But Happy?
In the depths of her heart, Mynra knows that it is not the Gates that is the issue. This is something within her, something that will not be mended by a change in location. She sighs, not wanting to think of that, and turns back in toward the heart of the kingdom. The storm will be on them within a few hours, so she is not especially quick as she wanders along well worn paths, her blue-grey eyes seeking company.