11-05-2020, 04:13 PM
is this the end of everything?
STRAIA
or is it just a new way to bleed?
She had only ever belonged in one place, and with it gone, she feels...untethered. Her life belonged to the Chamber and she had given it freely for the land she’d cared so much about. Yet those very actions had helped to usher in the reckoning, the destruction of Beqanna as it once was. Much has changed since Beqanna’s rebirth, but this land feels like a shell of what it once was. Yet still, she was here, feeling a bit like a living ghost though you would never know from looking at her.
Straia still looks like the queen she was born to be. Her mane is long and wild, her head high, and she moves with a purpose that cannot be ignored. It is as if she owns every inch of land she touches, and in some small way maybe she does. It is the magic of the land that courses in her veins now. Her heart beats to the same rhythm as the heartbeat of the mountain. She can sense this world in ways previously unimaginable, and yet at the same time she is still very much herself, the mare with far less grand magic but with vastly grand plans.
Some things do not change.
Today she makes her way to the meadow, and it doesn’t take long for her to spot something that looks a bit like a house. Not that Straia has a concept of houses, but she does have a concept of very elaborate shelters, which is definitely what this place is. There’s a large black raven perched on her back, its beady eyes trained on the eathen abode. It is easy enough to see inside of it, at least, and she sticks her head in without much concern for the fact it doesn’t actually belong there.
”Hello,” she says to the stallion inside, her voice smoky and cool. ”Forgive the intrusion, but I find myself rather curious about the creature that has made such a structure.”
Straia still looks like the queen she was born to be. Her mane is long and wild, her head high, and she moves with a purpose that cannot be ignored. It is as if she owns every inch of land she touches, and in some small way maybe she does. It is the magic of the land that courses in her veins now. Her heart beats to the same rhythm as the heartbeat of the mountain. She can sense this world in ways previously unimaginable, and yet at the same time she is still very much herself, the mare with far less grand magic but with vastly grand plans.
Some things do not change.
Today she makes her way to the meadow, and it doesn’t take long for her to spot something that looks a bit like a house. Not that Straia has a concept of houses, but she does have a concept of very elaborate shelters, which is definitely what this place is. There’s a large black raven perched on her back, its beady eyes trained on the eathen abode. It is easy enough to see inside of it, at least, and she sticks her head in without much concern for the fact it doesn’t actually belong there.
”Hello,” she says to the stallion inside, her voice smoky and cool. ”Forgive the intrusion, but I find myself rather curious about the creature that has made such a structure.”
@[Aziz]
Use of mild power playing is allowed; no injuries without permission