"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
The air was humid and although their land teemed with life, it was mostly silent. Magnus wondered sometimes if, when he had dreamt of a sanctuary, he had imagined it being this quiet—this still. There were days that he went without seeing another soul; there were weeks that he spent primarily in solitude. Not that he left Tephra alone—far from it. Instead, he kept to himself, walking along the still alien border, keeping a watchful, gold-flecked gaze on the few who claim Tephra as their home. He walked with his tail flicking at his haunches, the soil crumbling beneath his hooves, the air foreign and somehow nostalgic.
Today, was different though. Today, change stirred in the air, if only slightly. They had stepped back, all for their own reasons, but they had stepped back regardless. It left him with a sole hand to steer a vessel that was still largely lost at sea; the land was safe, but it was still malleable. They were not threatened (yet), but they were without shape, without purpose, without structure. It left him itchy with concern, fidgeting with discomfort as the days passed. And when the others had slipped into the shadows, he was finally able to shape his concerns into tangible thoughts, molding them like clay so he could dissect them.
It was this drive that finally propelled him from the shadows toward the center of the land. It was this that caused him to lift his golden head and call toward the fellow residents, his voice throaty and steady. He watched as they approached, his gaze flickering over each of them equally, nodding in greeting. When enough had gathered, when he did not feel as if he was waiting for more to roll in, he started.
“Hello,” a simple enough greeting. “Offspring, Eight, and Malis have chosen to step down as formal leaders of Tephra for now.” He glanced upward, wondering if any would show, but specifically looking for Malis. She, of all of them, had seemed the most interested in staying; she had simply not wanted the formality of leadership. “Beqanna has experienced much in the last few years, and I am grateful that we found Tephra so early as a sanctuary, but the dust has settled, and I think it is time for us to begin creating this land into our vision—to work toward making this less of a temporary stop and more of a home.”
He paused for a moment, taking a deep breath before continuing.
“I still have every intention of this land being a haven, but I think it is worthwhile to create structure for those who crave it. Not only can that provide purpose, but it can provide stability and security. My proposal is simple. For now, I humbly ask to continue serving as your leader while we gain our feet together.” He knew leadership was more about serving than power, and while the other members of the council had left Tephra in his care, he was not above asking for the consent of the rest of the land. If they did not view him as fit for the role, or if they wished for another, he would not fight them.
“I would propose we create a council of three advisors to guide the future of Tephra. They would help serve as checks and balances for the leader of the land and would, with a majority vote, be able to overrule any decision made by the leader or replace Tephra’s leader entirely.” It was important to him that they realize he was not proposing a monarchy; he recognized the driving force of having a single leader, but he was not interested in creating a dictatorship. They all needed to have a voice.
“I would also propose we create ranks—but instead of individual castes, we have only one. For those who wish to serve Tephra, they could join and rise in rank through any number of activities: patrolling the borders, reaching out to newcomers, helping with diplomatic missions. In all of my years serving in the kingdoms of old, it was rare to not see crossover between army and peacemaker. I would wish for Tephra to be a place that prizes specialized talents as equally as it rewards a well-balanced approach to life. Members could focus on one side of the coin or both, they would not be penalized either way.
“That being said, we should still have leaders to direct our vision. Someone to head up guardians of Tephra, someone who could oversee defense training. Someone who would be ultimately responsible for the safety of our borders. We would also need someone to lead our diplomatic endeavors. They would help organize missions to other lands, negotiate treaties, and advise on diplomatic matters. Both leaders would be a member of the council. The third member would be an advisor of the leader’s choosing.”
It had been weeks since Magnus had spoken so much and he felt his skin crawl from the effort off it. He was not used to giving such speeches, was not pre-dispositioned to mold new lands; he was made for the iron of swords and the song of blood drawn. This was outside his realm of comfort.
Still, it was necessary.
“Other members of Tephra would assist the leader, the council members, with whichever activities called to them. They could both defend borders and go on peace missions—or simply one. For those who do not feel called to join official ranks, Tephra would remain open as a sanctuary. Our borders would remain open, and we would welcome any who needed shelter or a place to rest their head.”
He took a deep breath, the sweat building underneath his mane cooling as an autumn breeze lifted it. He was nearing the end of what he meant to say—the proposal he wanted to lay at their feet. There was only one thing left to address. “If you all agree to try this structure, I would like to begin making journeys to the other lands. I would like to determine if alliances should be made—and, if so, with who. More than that, I would like to make sure whoever is out there knows we are an open land, but not a weak one.”
Then, finally, he took a small step back, letting silence fall as he opened up the floor for discussion.
magnus
TL;DR:
* Offspring, Eight, and Malis have stepped down as leaders of Tephra
* Magnus is proposing one leader with support of a 3-tiered council. One would be the head of the "guardians" or army / defense. One would be the diplomatic head. The third would be nominated by the leader.
* He is also proposing ranks with one caste. You could gain points and promotions by typical diplomatic or army activities so no one would be limited to either [although, of course, you could do one or the other if only one suited you].
* He also wants to organize some trips to visit the other kingdoms / lands to feel them out.
I think that's it. :| If I forgot something, I'm sorry! If you have any questions or want to throw out any other ideas, feel free. My activity should be picking up more so whee!
The up-and-over way is unclear, and for all his bravado, Belgarath is unwilling to try and get himself killed on some sort of silly expedition that will not benefit him. The only way he will risk his own neck is if there’s something to gain from it. So out of Pangea he goes, heavy hooves pounding the ground at a brisk pace. No need to hurry - he imagines that the mountains will still be there whenever he returns (be it weeks or months or years). He has nothing to hold him back - and nothing to goad him forward, save for his own boredom and greed and ambition.
Around the much larger Mountain he goes, scowling up at where he imagines the spirit of Beqanna lives (that bitch - what had he ever done to her?), through the Meadow, and then past the Field. It takes him some time to get past the common lands, but when he does, he finds the earth itself to be vastly different. How… interesting. The air grows more heavy with every step, as if it were heated from the ground itself. The ice-beast in him loathes it. Sweat already drips from Belgarath’s neck, and he is almost surprised to find the spring cool… when it is giving off steam. Huh. There is some funky magic at work here.
The land itself is quiet… so very, very quiet. There is nary a soul in sight, nor smell, nor signs of life. If there were paths made in the lush grass, they are beginning to be overtaken by nature again. He snorts, and a devious smirk slinks across his lips. This could all be his… it beats the hell out of waiting for some self-proclaimed God to give them what they ask for. With water dripping from his whiskers, he leans down to scratch the front of a leg with the curve of his newly sprouted ice-blue devil horns. The wind blows gently through the high grasses, and when Belgarath lifts his head to scan the horizon, he still finds it empty. But the faintest sound of a stallion’s voice reaches his ears, as if one were speaking very loudly. It is a singular voice, however, and without even a whisper to tell him otherwise, Belgarath turns towards it.
Somewhere more towards the center of the land, the source of the mysterious voice is identified. A lone stallion, marked by scars (oh, a worthy adversary!) and weary eyes, but otherwise alllllllll by himsellllllllf.
Even Belgarath knows you can't be a leader without followers - and yet the dappled monster does not pause to wonder if anyone would ever want to follow him. Harmonia may or may or may not be with him; he doesn't take the little golden mare for granted, and does not count on her support right now. It would be nice. But he's never relied on the aid of females (he's also never met one that he knows can beat him - so that will be an interesting little discovery later on). If he had hands, the asshole would pop out from behind a tree and start an obnoxious slow clap, applauding the man for this well-worded and motivational speech, claiming to be so inspired by his heartfelt words. Too bad no one was there to hear them.
“Bravo - Bravo, I say! It's a shame all your friends aren't here to see how strong a leader you are.” Bel takes a few more steps forward, beginning to loom over the buckskin leader with almost a full two hands advantager. “What does it say about you, that no one has answered your call? It's been hours, and I'm the only one around… you should probably just quit now. Let me take it from here.”
Or, they could do it the hard way and they could fight it out. At least that would be exciting, and something to do.
belgarath
Permission from Kortnee to challenge Magnus
Sorry dear!
10-21-2016, 10:49 AM (This post was last modified: 10-21-2016, 01:56 PM by Lucrezia.)
Here it comes with no warning; capsize, i'm first in the water
Silence is often one of the loudest noises heard from Lucrezia, or so it seems these last years. It had always come with uncertainty in her life that had made her fled from the home and those that she cared and loved for. This time it had been no different when the world she knew had been ripped away from her and birthed a new one. The new world had been too much for her. She had not been ready to let go of a past that was tied to close to her heart and let go of others in their own path. And despite all of this she had found a new home and possibly a friendship.
It was in time, and today was the day, that she returned to her new home—Tephra—even if the sound of a new home still rings strangely in her thoughts. But this time it did not make her feel so sick to her stomach. Lucrezia had settled on the past and came to terms that this was the future and she must not keep herself in the shadows of a history that has already passed. She has decided it was time to come out and be part of the present—a new life that was given to her, a second chance to actually be what and who she was supposed to be.
Her gaze, those familiar nutmeg eyes that pass from generation to generation from her family, watch from a close distance as she makes her way to the two stallions. She can hear as Magnus gives his speech. A smile instantly draws on her lips to see that he is still around but also stepping up to ensure this place still lives. However, she is not pleased to see the other. His words are not welcomed here, and a part of her wonders if this is what it was like when they came to the sandy kingdom – her only true home – because of power and greed. It expels from the Spanish Norm so vividly. It disgusts her in many ways altogether.
“Magnus,” she says softly as she comes to a stop in front of the two other stallions. She gives the familiar buckskin a soft friendly smile, but she does not allow herself to pleasantries right now. This was a time that was most important of all, a time she knew that would change the fate of her home. “I have answered his call,” She says firmly, not letting her eyes drop from the Spanish Norm that stands much taller than her. Lucrezia has never been afraid of others. Her father, Rodrik, had ensured she was well prepared for such events as this and all other problems in life with the skills she had been taught by her father. “What is your next move, little man?” She says with a soft smile that holds a deep sarcastic smile.
They come back, because this is all that is left to them - magma and memories.
The scent of their father is remiss; the great black stallion is gone then? Perhaps in search of his beloved, they think, though neither of them gives this thought that they share between them a chance to be heard. Each of them understands the nature of the beast that is love, though again, neither of them offers up a thought on the matters of throbbing hearts and confused brains. Something happened to them out there, away from here, that neither of them talks about with the other --
The divide between them is as clear and deep as the first new river the great Mountain made here.
They remember him; the buckskin stallion that used to oversee their play amidst the rivers of lava that split the land like big hot veins that pulsed and beckoned to them. Something about the fire, genetic mayhap? Their big black sire used to have bits of it coursing hot and fierce in his blood, and ergo, bits of it must be in them. But now, the buckskin stands there in the midst of those that remain - so few, as it had been in the beginning when this land rose up out of the mists and revealed herself to them, and they come forward too, to look upon the gathering, and to listen.
It does not surprise them to learn that their father has conceded his might to another, maybe not so much his might as his right to lead them. They do not fret, remembering how the buckskin looked over them with kind, protective eyes and they can only imagine that he will turn that same gaze outward now, over the entirety of the land as he did in those earlier days when he was but a humble stranger like all the rest of them. Not so strange though, for he had learned the lay of this sulphuric land and her hot air much quicker than the rest, patrolling it day in and day out. Oh they had watched him! Followed him in their games, trying to see who could track him better than the other before he noticed (he always noticed, and they, as children, did not care).
Grown now, in some ways but not all, they look and they listen as they have always done.
Neither of them has much to say, but they look interested at the mention of envoys to other lands.
They are about to ask, but -
He comes, a stallion without a name but a shape that is monstrous and big.
He moves with threat as his intent, clear and sharp, as he barks at Magnus about a lack of followers and just conceding the land to him.
(They are curious - why does he want the land so bad if there are none in it? Who would follow him if he too, comes alone, unaided in that moment?)
Each of them gives a nod to the familiar buckskin stallion, and to the mare that smells like she has been here a long time. “We are here too,” they pipe up as one; some things still occur for them in unison, like lending their voices to a shared cause of support for Magnus. Still, they are curious and between them, their red and black eyes keep straying back to the big gray that threatens the peaceful nature of the land with his sharp bravado. They are curious to see how this will play out.
She is not made to lead things, not meant for the role she had been once given, twice accepted. So when the world returned Killdare to her, when even as a stranger he agreed to come back and stay with her in Tephra, it was an easy decision to step back from her role as a leader. Easier still that the others had done the same. She had only ever been Queen of the Chamber on behest of her powerful bay counterpart, only stepped up to lead again in Tephra because Killdare would have wanted her to protect his Chamberlings. But that man was gone and in his place stood someone who was not less, but he was not whole. He did not expect such aspiring things from the wild blue mare anymore; they were more strangers than paired, now. So it was easy to step back, easy to trust her people to Magnus- easy, because she trusted him wholly and trust was not a thing earned lightly from her. She would stay on as long as he would have her, but she is not made to be the leader of anything.
When he calls to them, she is nearby. It had always been reflexive to protect those she cared for, and it seems that the instinct to safeguard this leader is no different than the one she had felt when first she vowed the same for Killdare. One glance across the grassy plains reveals that she is not the only one to have heard his call. They are few, but surely it must be the same everywhere as families rebuild and friends still search for those they have lost. It made sense to her that so many chose to keep to themselves, that they should want to be tucked away within the reach of their own loved ones. But even now she can trace the movement of silhouettes against the green, dark smudges like ants collecting in the wake of Magnus. It seemed he had earned more than just her faith.
It doesn’t take long for those who will come to gather around him, and so she settles into a spot that is close enough to Magnus that she can trace the pale outline of every gold dapple strewn across his skin. She is silent when he speaks, curious, but unconcerned because she knows he is more than capable of caring for this family of strangers. He is clever and he is reasonable, logical, because this role is not a game for him, it is not a conquest. He is here only to protect his people, to create a haven among strangers.
It is something even Malis can believe in.
But the tone of the meeting changes when the dapple grey stallion joins them, cool and confident and arrogant in a way that is familiar. She would not have disliked him either if not for the words that came spilling from the dark slash of his mouth. But his words are like a splinter forced beneath her skin, catching and pulling and wholly unwelcomed. She steps forward to stand at Magnus’ shoulder, reaching out once to touch her mouth against his neck in a way that is possessive, a way she has never been able to shake. Her eyes on the grays face are dark and wild, flashing like cold emeralds in a burned earth. She feels naked without her abilities now, without the knowledge that her skin will knit back, without the row of curving obsidian horns like a strange crown on her face. But it was never that which made her reckless, never invulnerability that made her unafraid. So she fixes her attention on the dappled grey stallion, unconcerned with the way he dwarfed her or the wild she felt trapped beneath his eyes. She knew wild, and it loved her. Even now she could feel it thrash beneath her skin, static like trapped lightning, frothing and burning and molding into a chaos she could wield like a blade.
“He is not alone.” She says evenly, pointedly, and though it is not her usual threat, it is weighted and heavy with warning. Where are your friends, is what she means.
don't forget that this is a choice. pick your poison; live with remorse.
The warm, enveloping air had long since settled onto his skin - though his heart still longed for the bitter, frigid ice, he no longer suffered within the suffocating, stagnant humidity. He embraced it, allowing the heat of summer to swelter and savoring the sun's hot blistering touch to his dark hide. Time went by. Weeks, months, he lost count, and with it he lost drive. His feverish lips spent much of their time gently tracing the forgotten lines of his lover's body, his body entwined with hers, his aching heart pining to mend the wounds once torn open by the savageness of diplomacy and war.
He had faltered, but he had not fallen. Time would go on, as it always had and as it always would - it hardly needed him to man the helm; and the volcanic ash did not need him to stir it. Though he had relinquished his own command, he had never left, nor would he. No longer did he have the mind to seek ice and snow, as bubbling brooks of corrosive lava and hot pipes of brewing steam became as much a part of him as the sleet had ever been. He would linger in the shadows, a presence to be called upon in need, a figure of solidarity. He felt secure in body and mind that land had been obtained, that those he loved and cared for had a refuge - shelter - but he could no longer call himself a King.
It had been a tiring time, even for one who held eternity within his proverbial grasp.
Alas, the silence of morning has been broken with a rippling call that echoes all too easily across the vacuous land. His breath is still warm along the gently sloping spine of his beloved, but with a simple gaze, she understands - Isle has always understood the deep, throbbing desire to serve and protect that festered within him. Without a word, he draws himself away from her, his heavy prints pounding into the moist, nutrient rich soil that sifts so easily beneath the immense weight of his body.
It does not take his glowing red eyes long to find the source, and he lowers the mass of his thick neck, slowing the breakneck pace to a mere lope - others had begun to gather as well, and gently, his whiskered lips brush the shoulder of his daughter's shoulder (Spark and Spear had been born of such unusual circumstances, yet he had grown a deep fondness that caused his heart to ache upon each of their mismatched eyes meeting with his).
He had not gone away; he never would. His heart was bound, and his body would follow.
Power was not something he had ever thirsted for, the way that some did.
Silence remains as his mind is weighed down with the careful, heady wording of the warrior that stood before him - an ally, but more than that - a friend. Magnus knew the heavy burden of the crown, having worn it himself, and with such etched experience the two had grown close in knowing the tiring road that lay ahead. It had grown too much for Offspring, with loss and remorse heavy on his aching mind, but his heart remained satisfied with the land obtained. Safety. Shelter. Refuge. He longed for the simpler things now; the rest of the world could burn to ashes for all he cared.
A looming figure approaches, his presence heavily stated but without any proper punctuation. Careful and wary, his dark eyes of fire observe his every hardened line and the joyless humor that lingers within his foreboding eyes. Trouble, his instinct presses, and he cannot deny it. Nostrils flaring with mild agitation, he withholds his sharpened tongue as he foolishly pushes closer to the mottled buckskin before him, towering over him in a pathetic attempt to intimidate. It only takes a few heavy steps of his own massive physique to align his body with Magnus', his own glowering eyes meeting with Belgarath's - with an entire hand advantage of his own.
"I, too, have answered his call, and he is far from alone," His heavy voice rises from the ashes, echoing the sentiment of the indigo female, gruff from disuse but gravelly with something looming - a threat lingering at the back of his throat. "perhaps you are lost? Blind, by chance? Only a fool would tread so carelessly into the fray without knowing what he is up against."
They had spent over a year in their new home. It was a quiet place, and they had not made an effort to speak to anyone outside their small family. Newton was still broken from the upheaval. Many nights he woke to himself crying or screaming for Sahm. Sahm stayed close and wrapped his neck around Newton’s in comfort. Softly Sahm calmed the exploding heartbeat within Newton until he was able to quiet himself back to sleep. Sahm had aged over the year. There was no longer a place for him to go to recall his former life. There was neither a graveyard nor a memorial for what had been lost. The new world never settled within him like the old world had. Though thankfully the two lovers had each other and their beloved daughter, Elora.
Time had turned quickly and with it came change. The two stallions were happy to remain within the shelter of only each other, but when a call was sent throughout the land Sahm knew it was time for them to emerge. The leadership was changing, and Sahm believed it was important to show his support for whatever was to pass. He wasn’t proud of Newton and his absence, but he wasn’t embarrassed of it either. The year they had spent in solitude was needed. It placed a crudely sewn stitch over the wounds the fairy had given them.
Gently Sahm brushed his nose along Newton’s side. ”We must go.” Sahm said flatly before tenderly pressing kisses along Newton’s cheek. The bay stallion merely nodded and pressed himself deeper into Sahm’s affection. Eventually Newton nudged Elora awake and the trio set off for the meeting.
Sahm was first to notice the tension running high between all the horses that had gathered. He knowingly looked to Newton who then quickly nodded and moved with Elora to a safe distance. Once both his lover and daughter had separated themselves from the potential fury Sahm aligned himself beside Magnus, Offspring, and the other supporters.
It was well on the way to a full year that Thanata had spent in her new home, along with the other horses that had willingly followed after Magnus, Offspring, and the others that wanted a piece of Beqanna to call their own. Everyone was still on edge nowadays, after what the land had done last time a fight between members of different kingdoms had broken out. Granted, Thanata was a bit frightened too; she did not wish for her family to be broken apart.
Family... the word was still foreign to her. Thanata had no offspring of her own, or any kindred within the kingdom. Any family she did have, she left behind a long time ago, when she'd come in search of this place, any place, to escape the stallion hunting her down. The horses she'd met in the (former) Tundra had graciously taken her in, offering her an escape, a place to call home, to be safe.
Thanata could never repay them enough for their kindness, which is why when she heard Magnus' call for the kingdom members to gather, the Friesian mare was more than willing to do so. From her grazing spot in one of the meadows, she took off toward the call, her long stride propelling her over the ground with ease. Her long, wavy mane floated behind her as if it were an obsidian cloud, her muscles rippling beneath her coat.
The mare slid to a graceful stop when she arrived, seeing a number of horses already there. Magnus, of course, Sahm, his lover and their filly a safe distance back, Malis, the blue mare and a strong friend of Magnus, Lucrezia, a mare Thanata was not all that familiar with, Spear and Spark, two of Offspring's descendants, a stallion than Thanata did not know, and Offspring himself.
The dark mare's gaze lingered on the powerful Tundra king for a moment longer than they should have. She would not let herself be distracted. Originally, she had come here with the intention of letting Magnus know she was interested in perhaps taking a position of leadership to help the kingdom along, recruiting new members and giving those that lived here a peaceful state of mind.
But when she arrived and saw the gray, all those thoughts went out her ears. The mare's nostrils flared as she pawed the ground, threatened by this stallion's presence. It was obvious he was here to challenge someone, but by the way everyone was standing beside Magnus, it would not be easy.
Thanata joined her comrades and friends, glaring at the gray as she placed herself close to the leaders and kingdom members, "You truly are a fool to think he would be alone," she said, addressing the gray stallion, "You come here, flaunting how you think he would have no supporters. Quite the opposite; he has a great number of them, who are all willing to stand beside him and keep annoying pests like you from interrupting the peace in our land."
It was difficult to fear when you had felt your own skull crushed—when you had felt your life drip onto the sand and watched helplessly as your only love was washed out to sea. It was difficult to fear when you had sat in the center of wars as they raged around you, when you had been pulled to and from third world on the whim of the magical. So he did not flinch at the gray stallion’s words, did not move a muscle.
Instead, he held his gaze calmly, the only movement the shifting of his mane from the autumn breeze. As the others spoke, Magnus turned to each, dipping his head in acknowledgment. In truth, it was good to see them. Lucrezia, who had come on hope alone—fierce, sarcastic, strong. Spear and Spark, the two children he’d watched play amongst the magma, more grown, more mature then the last time that he had laid eyes on them. Malis, someone who had the wild trapped in her throat, darkness burning along her edges—his unknown niece a mirror to the same demons clawing at him. Offspring, the behemoth who Magnus had found companionship, camaraderie, understanding. Sahm, his friend in turmoil at the Gates and trusted advisor. And then, finally, Thanata, a fierce follower of Offspring and hopeful mainstay in the new land.
As they arrived, he felt his heart swell with appreciation and a savage protectiveness. He did not care for titles or the power that came with them; he knew better than most that to lead was to serve and there were few things as grueling as running a kingdom. Magnus, however, knew it was his responsibility to care for those who gathered around him. It was his job to protect them with whatever might he had.
Finally, he spoke, his whiskey-voice even, low, nearly a growl as it poured into the air between them.
“No, I don’t think that I shall.” his shoulder twitched, the only sign of the war drums that beat in his heart, the hunger that simmered in his belly. “Are such weak words effective for you often? Do you expect the people of this land to bow to your demands like saplings before a hurricane? To cower before you?” He took a small step forward. “The people of Tephra are stronger than you could ever imagine, and we do not take well to orders from strangers. Perhaps you can find some other group who is willing to bend the knee to a false god, another land who cannot see you for the opportunistic, blind, foolish coward that you are.”
my apologies for my delay - i'm sorry i missed the activity! stupid bronchitis -.- ive been waiting for this dangit!
ara can't speak but she wants to help =P she's good at fighting and diplomacy, and hopefully somebody can help her communicate at some point ;D
Give me reason to fill this hole, connect the space between
Let it be enough to reach the truth that lies, across this new divide
excitement stirred in her heart at the sound of the call. FINALLY! finally SOMETHING was happening!
aranea had thought she would be quick to answer, but she had wandered further in to the territory than she had envisioned. it took her some time - even flying - to reach the gathered group. by then it seemed she had missed some of the fun, but not too much. she arrived in time to hear of the foolish man's challenge and as she landed she snorted in disgust.
though she had to admit she had not seen any of the leaders as much as she would have liked - okay, far less than she would have liked - she hadn't given up. what truly sucked for the ashen lady was that she wanted to do SO much and was so damned trapped.
how long had she lived in this silence, now? it seemed an eternity and though she had TRIED to recruit it was pretty darn hard to do without a voice. oh yes, stranger, just follow me because i can gesture and bob my head and look pretty. or at least not like i'm going to kill you.
you can see why it hadn't worked.
but here she was amongst the rest and choosing to stand aside the one who had stayed. the ruler that still ruled. magnus, she believed, though she did not know him terribly well. the one she had come for, the eight legged creature of her memories, was not to be seen.
she snorted again and stamped a hoof, narrowed flames focused on the unfamiliar male. he would leave or they would make him leave, it wasn't that hard, was it?
![[Image: gqYjsHr.png]](https://i.postimg.cc/KjqNDKxc/gqYjsHr.png)
