This one is the unknown magician. Even the ravens do not know. They know that the silver girl is different. They know she is strange, powerful, other. They know that Straia will be interested in her, but they cannot put into words quite why.
She is the one made of water and glass, they say. And the ravens have come to know Straia’s mind rather well, and so she goes. She takes to the sky as a raven, because she enjoys the enmity of it. Of course all of Beqanna knows to associate the ravens with the Chamber Queen, but they cannot know if and when she happens to one of the number that constantly flock Beqanna.
Some might scoff at the ravens, think of them as nothing more than worthless carrion birds. But they are clever and cunning, and they are rarely noticed. They could even be crows, and she cannot control crows quite as well. For all anyone knows, that black bird in the tree has nothing to do with her.
Though it probably does.
Do the ravens make her a monster? She makes them out of fire and ice, gives those powers to her kingdom members to wield against others. She provides the opportunity to chaos, for destruction, though her own hands are spotless. She is not bloodstained. She enjoys it, or she is simply ambivalent.
Maybe these things do make her a monster, but she doesn’t think so. She believes they make her strong, make her better. Capable of doing what others are not. Capable of achieving greatness for her kingdom.
She is not a monster. But she is the Raven Queen, and she will never be anything else.
She lands not that far away from the mare, just a raven in the snow covered ground. A speck of insignificant black feathers. She shifts though, not caring who might see or what they might think. Caring what others think is terribly overrated, and she has never bothered with it. The crown of raven feathers sit on her head, but otherwise, she is completely horse. Tri-colored and unkempt, a wild sort of beauty.
The silver mare is something like the ravens described. Their descriptions are eccentric (they really have not mastered names all that well, though they are learning to listen for those strange sounding non-words), but often there is some key truth in them. Though Straia does not know how broken and fragile this mare is, how like glass she is both inside and out. Nor does Straia know how the mare’s conscience rages back and forth like the tides. For now, Straia only sees the silver, but she can understand their choice of description.
“Straia,” she offers, as if it is perfectly normal for a raven to turn into a horse and simply say hello to the nearest creature. And really, in Beqanna, it is.
straia
the raven queen of the chamber
Use of mild power playing is allowed; no injuries without permission