Waking up to ash and dust | Carnage, any

[Idina]

It's all just so incredibly boring these days. Ever since the change, things had been quiet. Well, there was the initial bit of panic when the realization hit many of Beqanna's residents that they were now powerless. That had been fun to watch for a little while. Some had been angry, livid, spiteful. And Idina wanted to spur them on. Some had been upset, not nearly enough to be angry, but disoriented and confused. To them, she had wanted to whisper in their ears, stir up the dust, kindle their inner flame. And some even had just accepted the change for what it was. Hell, some had even been happy about it. That.. That was just too damn boring.

Their whole world was different, stripped. And then horses gathered into groups, consolidating and planning. She had been interested in that, watching them all from a distance as they scrambled to the Mountain to beg for Beqanna's mercy. Oh please, oh please!! Give us a home to rest our heads! A little pathetic, but better than this horrid quiet that had settled over all the lands now that they had been given what they wanted. She needs excitement, needs... Something..

And then she had heard of the One. The one stallion that had claimed a land for himself and his followers. Despite the fairies' wishes, despite the groveling they had insisted upon. This one being had said fuck that, and had made something for them himself. Now this, this was somebody she wants to get closer to. This was someone she could get behind. Even if it had come with a price.

The silver bay girl, just recently becoming a woman, had stepped around the base of the mountain and beyond, following the directions of the whispers she has heard of where this land is supposed to be. She is a petite thing, not very tall, and still has a baby face (though this may never change) which sports her only marking- an irregular stripe of white beginning between her milky brown eyes and ending on her small, velveteen muzzle. Her structure is stout, thick in bone and lean in muscle, though she is pleasantly plump where it counts. She doesn't know how attractive she is or is not, and nor does she care. Such things have never mattered to her before. Daddy dearest hadn't taught her about the ol' birds and bees, but especially in this current time of fall, she could very well soon find out. She does feel a very certain discomfort in her hind end, but she chooses to ignore it as she makes her way through foothills and trees and finally the place comes into view. Pangea. The Wasteland. This is what the One had made for them.

The whispers she'd overheard in the meadow had given her clue to what to expect, but hearing about something and seeing it are entirely different things. Her murky gaze creeps over the terrain, all grey and dingy. Dead. Twisted limbs of what could have once been trees dot here and there. The ground is soot and dust, apparently inhabitable for greenery. Incredible. So this is the price they paid for the one's boldness to go where no one had gone, the other way. The darker path. The obscure choice. This.

This was going to be her home. A slow, crooked smile curves her lips. Idina wonders if she will be greeted by the one himself.


((Soooo.. This girl decided to start talking in my head again. She's a weird one. Should fit in nicely xD
PS: really wouldn't mind if she is shown what it means to reach maturity. She would probably prefer @[Carnage] "the one" himself, but I'm open to all options lol.))

[Carnage]

and lord, I fashion dark gods too;

The change had been more offensive than anything else – a slap in the face, the way the lands he had carved grooves into were simply erased. He may be a god, but he likes his homages, likes to leave Beqanna tinged inexorably with his presence. Of course, he’s done more than well with that with his children, populating her land until few lines walk untouched by his blood.
But children only do so much.
Besides, all his children are ultimately disappointments, they fade into obscurity, they fall.

So for a new legacy, he carved out this land, this sick and strange place.
(He ignores that his magic is still slightly warped, curdled – it works for him, enough.)
He has already grown restless within its confines, unused to living amongst such company – he prefers solitude for the majority of the time, whether it’s in his lair (a distant place, away from here) or in space, where time ceases to exist and there’s only stars, infinite and aching.
(He’ll return there, soon enough. Stardust leaks into his veins and he craves home.)

He has been a poorly king in some ways – he has not gone out to recruit. He prefers them to come to him – he makes his presence known, and they come. It has been this way as long as he can remember.
He is a thing to be found. He is not one who seeks them out.
He watches the girl, young and foolish, as she walks into the lion’s den.
And then he smiles, and walks to her, his step easy.
“Hello,” he says, “and welcome to Pangea.”

c a r n a g e