so you wanna play with magic?
She feels the way the air seems to tighten and pinch together, thrumming with magic, and she knows that a magician is coming. She doubts it will be Eight – he would not come here (probably), not when there are so many other places they might go – and suspects it will be Yael. When the golden woman appears, Camrynn turns her head to regard the younger woman with the older magic, a small smile playing on her lips.
She is silent at first, letting the other woman speak. But rather than immediately answering the gold-mare's question, she starts with a simple greeting. "Yael." she greets with a hint of warmth in her velvet voice, smiling gently. She holds no unkind feelings toward the mare; much as she would have rather continued her deception (mostly because she wasn't in the mood to drop it yet) she understands the reasons why Yael and/or the gods of the Deserts would have required it. They need leaders, not children. She can respect that. And besides, it does no one any good for her to hold on to those kinds of feelings even if she were to be so inclined.
She turns to look out across the Desert at Gumby lets silence hang between them for a moment. A penny for her thoughts – she doubts that would cover it. Her thoughts are as expansive as Yael's own, stretching out over time and space even more impossibly infinite than the sands of the Deserts. She has made it part of her mission to study the roots of magic, to seek out those who use it in any form and learn when, how, and why they came to wield it, but still its ways are more mysterious than she would like. She plays with it, she uses it, it's an additional limb, and yet she knows so little.
There is so much that could be spoken between them, the old queen and the new. They could talk of war (Camrynn hears it too, the distant drums), they could talk of alliances, of the tensions and questions and everything else that swirls across the land like stormclouds. But they both know so much – what kind of a conversation is it when so little is unknown? And so she settles on something entirely different.
When her answer comes, it both is and is not an answer. "How did you first come to the Deserts?" she could have looked into the past for the answer, could even have looked into the mind of Yael, or of any other horse who happened to be here at the time to understand the truth of it. But she's rather respectful when it comes to magicians; she tends to let them especially speak for themselves, and she will never probe their mind unless invited to do so.
So she simply lets her gaze rest on the golden woman, watching her with a delicate half-smile, and waiting to hear her story. In time, no doubt, Camrynn will ask her about her magic, delicately unraveling the mysteries of the golden queen, drinking in the knowledge of her history like lemonade on a hot summer's day. But she – they – have all the time in the world, time to discuss their lives, time to discuss the Deserts, time for anything and everything. It is one of the greatest gifts and most terrible burdens of magic.
She is silent at first, letting the other woman speak. But rather than immediately answering the gold-mare's question, she starts with a simple greeting. "Yael." she greets with a hint of warmth in her velvet voice, smiling gently. She holds no unkind feelings toward the mare; much as she would have rather continued her deception (mostly because she wasn't in the mood to drop it yet) she understands the reasons why Yael and/or the gods of the Deserts would have required it. They need leaders, not children. She can respect that. And besides, it does no one any good for her to hold on to those kinds of feelings even if she were to be so inclined.
She turns to look out across the Desert at Gumby lets silence hang between them for a moment. A penny for her thoughts – she doubts that would cover it. Her thoughts are as expansive as Yael's own, stretching out over time and space even more impossibly infinite than the sands of the Deserts. She has made it part of her mission to study the roots of magic, to seek out those who use it in any form and learn when, how, and why they came to wield it, but still its ways are more mysterious than she would like. She plays with it, she uses it, it's an additional limb, and yet she knows so little.
There is so much that could be spoken between them, the old queen and the new. They could talk of war (Camrynn hears it too, the distant drums), they could talk of alliances, of the tensions and questions and everything else that swirls across the land like stormclouds. But they both know so much – what kind of a conversation is it when so little is unknown? And so she settles on something entirely different.
When her answer comes, it both is and is not an answer. "How did you first come to the Deserts?" she could have looked into the past for the answer, could even have looked into the mind of Yael, or of any other horse who happened to be here at the time to understand the truth of it. But she's rather respectful when it comes to magicians; she tends to let them especially speak for themselves, and she will never probe their mind unless invited to do so.
So she simply lets her gaze rest on the golden woman, watching her with a delicate half-smile, and waiting to hear her story. In time, no doubt, Camrynn will ask her about her magic, delicately unraveling the mysteries of the golden queen, drinking in the knowledge of her history like lemonade on a hot summer's day. But she – they – have all the time in the world, time to discuss their lives, time to discuss the Deserts, time for anything and everything. It is one of the greatest gifts and most terrible burdens of magic.
CAMRYNN
co-queen of the deserts, magical, mother of badassery