[open] ReBeL jUsT fOr KiCkS [Myrna]

[Viszla]

Myrna suffocate the fire  i started-------------------- right when it kindles There were few lessons on power in Myrna’s young life, but observation has taught her loyalty was best earned and held through kindness. To offer aid to a stranger is something that a Queen would do, and so Myrna does it. She does it even though her first instinct had been to put as much distance between herself and this source of ‘not peace’ as she could. The ghastly stallion smiles as he looks at the statue, the expression revealing bone. Myrna swallows, her throat uncomfortably dry, but gives no outward indication of discomfort - only mild curiosity. Surely there are magicians who might cure him of whatever it is that afflicts him? There are few illnesses that cannot be healed, and as her blue-grey eyes meet the glowing red holes where his should be, it occurs to the queen that perhaps he has chosen to be this way. The thought is as unsettling as the putrid stench of rot Zain emits. But this is her home. She is the Queen, and she cannot afford to be unsettled. Perhaps she is mistaken, she reminds herself, and his appearance is something he cannot alter. Years of practice make the physical manipulation of her body quick and simple; she shifts a few things about in her nasal cavity, and she no longer has the ability to smell. Outwardly there is no change at all, save a moment of stillness as she focused on the alternation. “To be quite honest?” She asks, waiting for some sign of affirmation before continuing, wordlessly marveling at the sudden blandness to the world. It had never occurred to her how much she relied on her sense of smell. “You look less like you need healing, and more like you need to be put out of your misery.” She lifts her brow, as if daring him to disagree, and there is a flicker of amusement in her pale eyes as she adds: “You can call me Myrna. Or Majesty, Queen of the Gates. Myrna is less of a mouthful though.” There is a pause, just long enough to guage his reaction, and then she takes the step from introductions to business. “What brings you to our wonderful meadows, Zain?” The words seem highlighted by the blossoms that have been summoned by her arrival. They spread a nearly interrupted carpet around her, thinning as they spread and fading as she passes by. They’re inching toward Zain as well, but are limited by proximity to the twining crown of branches that rests atop and nearly disguises her spiraled horns. @ Zain