"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
Standing knee deep in the frothy sea, grey Djinni watches the silver fish as they flit across the tidepool. There are too many of them to count, all fighting against the pull of the sea, flailing desperately to keep steady against such a powerful force.
Djinni feels a little like the fish these days.
Her powerful force is not a physical foe - like the ocean to the fish - but rather her own previous plans for herself. She has always been happiest while roving. The need to place roots, to bury herself deep in the service of a kingdom, has never drawn her in the way it had so many of her family. The grulla mare has always had everything she wanted in the blink of an eye: food, water, companionship, lovers. So she had gone from here to there, never settling and enjoying her freedom.
Then the Reckoning had happened. Everything changed.
The genie was bottled.
She was trapped, left without a bit of the magic that had so eased her way through life. Djinni walked instead of flew, slept instead of simply wishing herself refreshed, ate instead of picturing herself full. It was a difficult adjustment at first, yet despite the privilege of her previous life, Djinni is surprisingly resilient. She won't ever admit to everything that happened that first winter at the seaside, but it is clear to anyone with sense that the genie is back at full strength once more.
And yet...
Djinni hasn't left. Her roving ways seem tamed, at least to the casual observer. She has brought back recruits, has dipped her head in acknowledgement to two sequential monarchs. Has she tied herself to a kingdom at long last?
The magnetic pull always draws them to each other’s company. Separable, but never for long. Whether it’s a scent on the breeze or simply coincidence, Nayl and Djinni’s paths always seem to cross. Their lives are intertwined to a point that the relationship being forged is truthful and always strengthening. Honesty is their building block and their fuel. If it weren’t for their meetings and similar views Nayl wouldn’t be sitting so comfortably on this throne. Although it was through solely her strength (and intimidation?) that fashioned her path to the crown, Nayl couldn’t have done it alone.
With another turn of fate, they are crossing paths again. Djinni in the water and Nayl standing on the shore looking out across the ocean thoughtfully. Her voice rings forward in a normal greeting while her eyes trace across the genie’s silhouetted body as the sun stares at them from ahead. At first, she doesn’t close the distance between them as though content with the small distance that separates them and their musings, but with little realization Nayl is at her friend’s side with the fish weaving through their legs.
”We got what we wanted,” what I wanted, is what she should say. Djinni didn’t want the crown, Nayl did; but the genie did encourage change as silence swept uncomfortably across Nerine. ”I didn’t think it would be so easy.” In truth, Nayl anticipated – wanted – a true battle as to determine who was most fit to guide the warrior women to their inner strength. She wanted that sweet nectar taste of victory, but it had eluded her. The winning of the crown was far too easy and anticlimactic. Even now, despite savoring the realization of being a Queen, Nayl has a bitterness on her tongue from having stolen the kingdom so effortlessly.
The flicker of movement at the corner of her vision has Djinni turning her head toward the shore. Her sea green eyes narrow until she’s identified the distant observer as the pied Nerenian queen. The mare whinnies a greeting in reply, but she does not leave the tide pool, knowing that Nayl will come in her own time. When she does, the grey mare reaches out to bump her muzzle against the top of Nayl’s shoulder, a companionable greeting.
She turns away from the tide pool as Nayl begins to speak, feeling the slow drip of water down her neck as it darkens her own pied coat. There is more white than usual on it (though what a strange thing that there now exist others in the world that know what the ‘usual’ is with Djinni), a smattering of spots across her hindquarters, and a hint of varnish roaning along her chest and back. Otherwise, she is still the smokey grullo mare that had first followed the trail of sisters to the coast of Nerine, slim and small.
“We did,” Djinni replies, though what she had dreamed for in the future of this new land is not quite what she has gotten. It is frustrating to admit that she cannot control everything.
(Well, she could, but then where would be the fun in that?)
“Easy?” She says, gentle humor in her voice if not her expression. “Do you think that anything without blood is automatically easy?”
She shakes her neck, flinging about the dreaded locks that have begun to form hear her head.
“I think you’ve quite a long way to go with this place before you can call being queen ‘easy’.” The teasing remains in her voice as she continues, this time looking away from Nayl and at the long stretch of rocky shoreline. There is no one there. Neither Djinni nor Nayl want that to be the case – each for their own reasons – so rather than refrain from comment, Djinni asks: “Is there anything I can do to make your ruling as easy as possible?”
This time there’s a clear smile on her face, the sort of expression a sibling sister gets when poking at a bit of harmless fun.
Their eyes meet, albeit briefly, before they stare at the ocean with its glistening surface. It’s alive around them, churning by the current that curls around their legs. Out here, it’s tranquil while most of the members keep to the sandy shores. Nayl spares a glance over her shoulder to observe the towering cliffside before hearing the humor, then rigidity, in Djinni’s voice. The grulla is as close to a friend as the queen would ever allow of anyone; she has a natural mistrust of most of her peers. There is always at least one that would be the origin of her downfall. So, she doesn’t allow herself to appear weak in front of anyone. With her mind heavily barricaded all she is required to do is hold herself strongly and confidently.
And so, she does not waver from this as Djinni shoots a counter back. A brow curiously lifts underneath her forelock; it’s the only hint of surprise at the grulla’s words. ”Easy being a Queen? No, I wouldn’t expect it to be,” she anticipates challenges and feeds off the excitement for them, ”I just didn’t think Naga would so quickly hand the throne to me.” The battle concluded abruptly and suddenly they were home with the crown being handed over. Nayl wanted more adventure, more cunning, more obstacles. The victory would have tasted sweeter then, but Naga deprived her of that tantalizing morsel. Now, it just seems unreal and as though she stole candy from a child.
There is much to do to improve the coast and return life to its sandy shores. Nayl wants to look behind her and see others finding themselves locked in conversation. She wants to see the herd flourish and create a new and powerful reputation.
She wants a legacy.
Her mind reels even before Djinni asks what she can do. By the time her head turns to truly see the genie (and to see that coy grin) Nayl has already contemplated her answer. A smile crawls across her lips and mirrors her sister, her voice gentle but provoking. ”Our sisters want an alliance,” their concerns echo in the back of her mind, ”So I think we need some new friends, Djinni.”
The desire to rule has been as absent in Djinni's life as the urge to tie herself to a realm. During Naga's absence, the idea of taking the empty throne had flitted across her mind a single time, easily brushed away.
Ruling means responsibility, and the grullo mare purposefully avoids that.
She is pleased that Nayl had chosen to step forward, to take charge of the land by the sea. There is life here now, movement along the beach where before there had been only silence., For Djinni, who had begun to grow bored, the jolt forward had been a welcome relief. There is still more to occupy herself with here, she tells herself, she is not staying for a singular reason. (A yellow reason with a mane and tail as white as seafoam).
"Perhaps Naga found that it was not as easy as she'd thought it would be either," Djinni finally replies. She has not ruled herself, that is true, but her blood is bluer than the ocean. Her family had been the epitome of traditional royalty: a warrior king father and a diplomatic queen mother, filling their peaceful kingdom with brood of leggy dun offspring.
"I happen to like Sylva," she says mildly. "Do you have any opposition to that land?"
Nayl hadn’t anticipated gaining a throne, at least not yet. Although she mistrusted Naga she planned to give her the proper opportunity to rule, but the situation demanded a change. After a decade of always lying low Nayl expected this to be her life no matter how her heart yearned for more. Her blood runs thickly with powerful women and yet she struggled. It was with this changing world that Nayl took initiative and found herself – her true self. There was so much more that she was capable of, but it was with the increasing silence that she determined that her life was going awry. Only she could change it.
And so, she did.
There had been no disagreement for leadership between her and Djinni. Although their minds were in the same place (Nerine is dying under her leadership) their destinies were entirely different. The genie merely offered support while Nayl strove to end the silence through battle, albeit short-lived. It was their own teamwork.
”Then she was unfit,” she adds tersely with a shrug of her shoulders, ”Anyone needs to be up for a challenge and face obstacles if they want to succeed.” Nayl is entering queenship with minimal knowledge. She possessed no reminiscent qualities from the Jungle that would make her an adequate leader, but she stepped up to it. This new world molded her and chiseled away the roughened edges. She is still brash, still wiry in her mannerisms, but unbeknownst to her, she is all that her grandmother once was.
But she will be better.
A breath is exhaled slowly as she contemplates Djinni’s suggestion. A coy smile tugs at the corners of her mouth. They know where this is leading, but their peers would remain ignorant and blind to their intentions. Friends, they say, but there is so much more behind their words. ”Sylva,” she repeats thoughtfully as though weighing the option, but her decision has already been made. ”It’s such a quaint place with lovely trees.” Her trip there enlightened her just as she gained knowledge from every other piece of Beqanna she traversed. ”Yes, I think they would make some excellent friends for Nerine.” And just like that, the seal has been pressed and the orders given.
