"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
As planned, she makes her way to the Deserts. Though for once, she doesn’t have to walk. Not that she’s even remotely mastered her new-found skills. She hasn’t, but still, she manages to shift into a raven nonetheless. There’s a few horsehairs sticking out here and there, she’s certain, but she’s got working wings and that’s all she needs at this point. After all, she’s not flying into the Deserts.
No, in fact she lands rather a distance away from hot, arid kingdom. Though she can’t help but revel in how quickly she can travel with wings. Walking is so terribly slow. Still, she’s one hundred percent as she approaches the Deserts. It feels strange to cross the border, but she’s been told that’s the whole point of this thing, and so she makes her way into the kingdom. Briefly, she wonders if Lu is here. Would her sister even speak to her, if Straia found the girl?
Doubtful.
Their last meeting had not gone well, and Straia has not been back in the Deserts since. She has no other reason to come here really, other than her sister. Who sister who (rightfully) despises her now. Still, she would love to mend those differences, move past it all. Have her sister back.
Though Oksana was back. Quietly so, mostly lingering in the shadows. But still, she was around, and Straia could find her. That was such a rare feeling that Straia simply planned to enjoy it for as long as it lasted. Probably not that long, knowing Oksana. But it’s more than Straia usually gets when it comes to family.
She’s pretty sure some of her kingdom is already here. The rest of them were participating in the different events. Straia, however, planned to simply come and be something of a social butterfly. So she doesn’t seek out her kingdom mates – after all, they could talk at home. Instead, she makes her way into the kingdom, slowly but surely.
She’s acting a bit like the tourist she is, really looking at the rocky ground that gives way to sand and dunes eventually. The oasis begins to take shape in the distance, and she figures that’s a good place to head. So that’s exactly what she does, figuring someone would find her at some point or another.
Instead of travelling to the Tundra, where she might he to see Rigdon, Yael sends Gaza instead. He should meet his headstrong half-brother and explore the world for himself. She would rather stay within the sandy Kingdom and sleep.
Yael is tired, Oh so tired, and the combination of the shade of Van’s tree and a crisp(er) wind from the North an hour after sunset lulls her into a deep sleep. A sleep that consumes her and sends her dreaming across Beqanna. She follows the wind paths and the sun rays and the water droplets as they burst on razor-sharp blades of grass. She freezes and burns and is covered in sand.
Yael slumbers in sweet oblivion, as many a magician has done before her. The world is all at once too much, and not enough; and so she must retreat.
Until there is a tingling at the tip of her nose and a tickle in her hindquarters as the magic that she is tied to inexplicably to shifts and changes. For a moment, it’s as if something is missing in her soul and then it is replaced - different, but still there. Her eyes fly open, and she finds herself buried in sand; the golden sands surrounded their golden protector and drew her under its dunes, until she felt the need to wake again. A light smile, touches her lips in thanks - but she cannot linger long in thought about it. An invisible vacuum sucks away the grains and she emerges, just like she was a couple of months or a year or so ago (what time has passed, and how much has happened?)
It does not matter; there are visitors at in her land and some of them are important. She yawns and then feels out the guests with a padded, silky touch. Oh. Eenteresting… Just for a little fun (because hey, it’s been a long time since Yael has done anything for her own amusement), she shifts into a Raven with silver and gold flecks on its feathers and flies to where the newly styled Raven Queen ambles along, taking in the whole of her kingdom. It isn’t much to look at right now - she’s passed the red rocks and dry ground and passed on to the towering, drifting dunes, and the oasis honestly isn’t that far from her now. But instead of landing in the woman’s path, Yael impishly circles her and then lands delicately on her flanks, giving a melodious (so not real raven-like) cawww in greeting.
She isn’t surprised when a raven lands on her haunches. In a land of two magicians, her new little gift wasn’t going to remain secret for long. If she wanted to keep it secret, she wouldn’t have come here. Not that she’s running about flaunting it either, but still, she’s not stupid. And to be fair, she’s taken to wearing a crown of raven feathers whenever she’s in the Chamber. But only there. Even Straia isn’t quite so haughty as to start wearing it around everywhere. Her kingdom mates were pretty well used to her, but the rest of the world. Well, they probably weren’t ready for Straia.
Straia turns her head around at the sound of the caw, looking at the silver and gold flecks. There were two possibilities that she knew of here. Likely, there were others that could shift into a raven, but she doubted that those particular horses would have any idea what she is. Of course, of the two, it’s hard to determine which one has decided to land on her back. But she’s going to guess that the gold flecks are a hint. “Yael?” she says, half question, half statement.
Camrynn, she thinks, likely would have come in with much more fanfare. Yael was the quieter of the two magicians in that regard, flaunting less that Camrynn. Not that all the magicians didn’t flaunt themselves slightly. She’d never met Evrae, but heard tales of her half-sister’s mother. The magician that wore her magic like a second skin. Like her only skin, maybe, a constant swirl of colors and landscapes. Ana, with the shadows that dance at her feet. Camrynn, in a hundred different ways. Yael, who didn’t have such a tell-tale sign, but still, made herself known. This time, as a raven.
Wings grow from Straia’s side, so long they trail on the ground, jet black feathers mixing picking up sand. She doesn’t shift all the way, given the companion on her back. “Tell me, what is the view like from the sky here?” She grins, and waits for a response.
Yael? Straia asks, and the raven winks a beady black eye at her in confirmation to her guess. Its beak opens and her voices comes out, the half-hearted masquerade up. “Xello, Straia. Velcome.”Waiting to see what the newest addition to their magic club will do, she is pleasantly surprised when the brown and white mare sprouts glossy purple-black wings. Everyone, in their heart of hearts, she thinks, wants to know what it’s like to fly. Raven-Yael chuckles and then flaps her wings, removing herself from Straia’s flank before shifting back to horse form.
It wouldn’t be very good manners to squash a visitor - let alone a visiting Queen. Yael can only imagine the diplomatic headache that would result from that.
She shifts back into her standard shape (she’s never been one to play with colors or forms - though the fancy may yet strike her), complete with shiny, illustrious feathers. Luckily, the sun has already reached its peak and is well on its way down, which is much better for flyers. As intense as the heat can be on the Desert floor, it is often magnified in the air - though the wind can sometimes offer a bit of relief as well. “Eet ees most beautiful at sunset and sunrise, but now ees not too bad. Come. Eef you fly high enough, you can see ze ocean at ze end.” Yael grins and leaps into the sky, expecting Straia to follow.
She knows the Chamberling will not be able to see their new oasis, and that there are no secrets to reveal about the Kingdom from above. The Desert protects itself, simply by being a desert.
She didn’t expect to find out all that much about the Deserts by visiting. Rather, she had hoped to learn of the other kingdoms, to find other visitors a little less guarded. The Deserts, certainly, would have every guard up with so many visitors inside their kingdom. Particularly with two magic Queens. But instead of a guest, it is Yael that finds her. The wink confirms it, and Straia grins slightly at a raven winking. Very unnatural. She would know.
But for the moment, she finds that she is not particularly disappointed by her companion. Camrynn might have yielded more interesting than Yael, but either way, it would give her a chance to play with these new-found powers of hers. Truthfully, she had no idea what she could do. The only thing she’s discovered it that, no matter what she tries to conjure, it’s always related to a raven.
Maybe the Chamber had a sense of humor, but really, Straia rather liked the speciality.
Yael switches to horse-with-wings, and while the magical mare may not change colors or decorate herself, being gold isn’t exactly subtle. Yael simply has her own brand of flashy. Straia, for certain, could not change colors (though she never would), though she could coat herself in raven feathers. No idea what the use of that might be, but she could.
Yael leaps into the air, and Straia follows. Her wings are large and carry her into the air easily. Flying, at least, she has practiced, and she is not entirely useless and she follows Yael higher into the sky. The Deserts is not necessarily beautiful. Not in the way of the Gates or the Falls. But it is immense and impressive. Though why anyone would choose to live here, she has absolutely no idea. The misty pines and shadows of her own home feel far more welcoming. But to each his own, no?
Yea, no.
But Yael is right. They can see the ocean, and it stretches on even farther than the Deserts had. If nothing else, the Chamber did not have that. “I can almost see why you like it here. Almost.” But she grins slightly, her eyes flashing with mischief. Sometimes she is not a Queen, let alone Queen of the Chamber. Sometimes she is simply the child she had once been. Playful, sarcastic, mischievous. Alright, maybe she’s always been very much a piece of the Chamber.
“How’s your sort of retirement treating you?” Small talk, but up here the world feels silent and beautiful, the perfect place for getting to know someone that she normally would never speak to outside of diplomatic contexts. So hell, why not? Straia’s flexible.
It’s true, she is nowhere near as exciting as Camrynn is. She may not play the puppeteer with others, sticking her nose in where it doesn’t belong, but that doesn’t necessarily make her boring. Yael has had more than enough excitement for two or three lives; fire has licked at her hooves and singed her skin, while death has plagued her company. It might make anyone else bitter, turn their blood to bile and their spit to venom.
Not Yael.
Not yet.
So you must excuse her preferring a quiet life at the moment. Maybe she will start to meddle in affairs at some point in the future, or maybe she will become a Meadow bum. Those things, however, will not happen today.
They soar across the Desert, Yael leading Straia higher, to wear the hot air currents are strong enough that they can circle easily. The Raven Queen (and most others, actually) cannot see why she lives in the Desert. Yael could recount where she came from, another land of gold, frankincense, and myrr, and how she has always been of the Desert. Just like Straia has always been of the Chamber. However, the golden woman has found that it is often easier to show than tell. “T’en let me show you. Close your eyes unteel I say open t’em.” It might seem odd, and potentially dangerous, but Straia is with Yael. Not only does she not wish to start (another) war, she has offered Straia her friendship, in the way that rulers and former rulers awkwardly do. Taking care to hold the two of them up, just in case something were to happen all the way up there, Yael opens her mind and gently invades Straia’s head, taking care to stick to only her senses, leaving thoughts and personal bits alone.. Her companion’s head might buzz or feel a bit spacey, but she is entirely safe.
When she is settled in, Yael says “Open your eyes, dear,” and waits. Maybe it was Morphine’s peculiarly good type of magic, but when she first received the gift, it was overwhelming. Everything was bright and sparkly - it was as if she could see the beauty in every grain of sand - the way it was multifaced, like a diamond, and glistened in the sun and moved with the wind. She could hear the scorpion and desert adder that burrowed beneath the dunes, and the families of fennec foxes that lounged far away, under the red rocks’ cooler shadows. She saw the veins of power that rested in a web beneath the sand, and the beacon of magic that lit up Van’s tree. The sky was the bluest blue. The wind actually whispered as it weaved past her ear. Everything made sense, and then all of a sudden, nothing did.
The world, however, was beautiful. Is still beautiful.
She waits to see what Straia will think.
Unlike Camrynn, Yael is trustworthy though. Not that Straia necessarily minded untrustworthy people (she had allied herself with Eight, had she not?), but rather that when Yael tells her to close her eyes, Straia doesn’t worry about what might happen. She doesn’t worry that Yael will use this moment harm Straia – though why would she worry about that? Yael could kill her with a blink, but she wasn’t known for doing such. She doesn’t worry that they might plummet out of the sky. For starters, Straia could shift easily enough, could enlist a million ravens to catch her. And for the rest of it, she knows Yael can keep them afloat without wings at all.
Straia simply closes her eyes when told.
If death were to come for her, then it would find her no matter what. But it would not be at the hands (or hooves, she supposes) of Yael. Not today, anyway. Today, they were as friendly as protectors of opposing kingdoms could ever be. Not that Straia had issues with the Deserts, or vice versa, but simply that they two kingdoms have never stood for the same thing.
Yael picks her way into Straia’s brain, and the mare does not resist. Not that she could stop Yael, but she can make the process easier. She feels a bit lightheaded, but she leaves her mind open, letting the magician do her thing. And then, when she is told, she opens her eyes. The world is entirely different.
Straia has always known that the lands of Beqanna were alive. Not just because there’s a heart beneath the earth of the Chamber, but because every kingdom had it’s own personality. Every kingdom took care of the members that in turn took care of the land. Their magic comes from the land, and would die with it. But Yael sees the world as alive quite literally.
Straia can hear words on the wind, gossip and rumors and simply a quiet lullaby all at the same time. She can hear the movement of the animals far beneath them; can see the lines of power that run through the Deserts. It glows brightest in the magical entities that the kingdom possesses, though the web runs everywhere. “It is beautiful,” she says, not afraid to admit that. The Deserts is all sun and warmth and glitter, in a sense. It is different from her own shadowed, misty forest and the clearing. “Though I admit now I simply wonder what the Chamber looks like to you,” she chuckles slightly, but still, cannot help but admire the view. Straia might be a hell of a lot better of a horse if she saw the world like this.
Okay, she wouldn’t. But still, the thought must count for something.
