04-18-2015, 06:54 PM
so you wanna play with magic?
She has a vested interest in anything having to do with the Deserts. That alone would have been reason enough for her to seek out Kratos. But after their encounter in the field, after he'd caught her attention with the lightning-electric energy that was so uniquely his, she'd done a little bit more digging and decided she had other reasons for wanting to meet him. See, if he has a thing for powerful women, she has a thing for controlling those who love her power, or who fall under her spell. Not that she's necessarily malicious; in fact, she's usually mostly not unkind. It's just so very useful to have control of others. That's why she so often traffics in favors, boons granted in exchange for nebulous chips that she can call in whenever she decides she wants to. There's just so much you can do with that.
Not that she lacks for power even without the help of others. Her magic is like a constant companion, a warm coat that she never removes. She uses it as frequently and fluidly as one might use an arm, or a leg; it's an extension of who she is, a capricious element that she wields gracefully and with deadly effect. She is a beautiful thing, a creature of almost infinite possibilities. She's a fantastic ally to have, and a terrible enemy.
The day is more autumn than summer, more biting chill than gentle sunshine. She watches him lazily, perched on the edge of a meadow in the guise of a bird. She is a robin, small and quiet, dainty on a branch that affords her a great view of the horses spilling out across the grassy area below. She can hear their thoughts as clearly as though they had been speaking, and a million joys and tragedies jump out from each of them. Everyone has a story, it is the way of things, here and everywhere else. Only she (and, she supposes, the others lucky enough to have magic) will ever really hear them all.
He is paused nearby, and she swoops down as a bird, turning into her equine form at the perfect time to put her gracefully standing on the ground. It is a lightning-fast transformation, no subtle shifting like you might expect from the body shifters. She has always been more of an all-or-nothing kind of mare.
She is simply herself now, a beautiful black mare, coat shining in the late summer sunlight. The chill does not impact her; she could either be immune to it, or she could enclose herself in an invisible nexus of heat, it doesn't matter. Across her chest, bold and golden, the crook and flail shine in the weakening almost-fall sunlight. Across her cheek, a small trail of precious stones drapes gracefully like a necklace.
"Kratos." she greets, the name warm on her tongue. Her voice is like velvet, smooth and pleasant. She smiles at him wryly. "Brother of the Tundra, son of the Deserts…" she pauses. "And the Valley. And the Dale." her voice is gentle, playful and wryly teasing. She wonders how much he's put together of who she is, whether the stories of what's happened in the Deserts have traveled to him yet.
She smiles at him, and as she does her eyes turn vivid yellow. She could mirror his electric – she feels the power within him, the way she feels the power within every magic-user of any form – but she holds off on that trick for now. It's no good if you show your hand; all good things take time. She smiles. "A pleasure to see you again."
Not that she lacks for power even without the help of others. Her magic is like a constant companion, a warm coat that she never removes. She uses it as frequently and fluidly as one might use an arm, or a leg; it's an extension of who she is, a capricious element that she wields gracefully and with deadly effect. She is a beautiful thing, a creature of almost infinite possibilities. She's a fantastic ally to have, and a terrible enemy.
The day is more autumn than summer, more biting chill than gentle sunshine. She watches him lazily, perched on the edge of a meadow in the guise of a bird. She is a robin, small and quiet, dainty on a branch that affords her a great view of the horses spilling out across the grassy area below. She can hear their thoughts as clearly as though they had been speaking, and a million joys and tragedies jump out from each of them. Everyone has a story, it is the way of things, here and everywhere else. Only she (and, she supposes, the others lucky enough to have magic) will ever really hear them all.
He is paused nearby, and she swoops down as a bird, turning into her equine form at the perfect time to put her gracefully standing on the ground. It is a lightning-fast transformation, no subtle shifting like you might expect from the body shifters. She has always been more of an all-or-nothing kind of mare.
She is simply herself now, a beautiful black mare, coat shining in the late summer sunlight. The chill does not impact her; she could either be immune to it, or she could enclose herself in an invisible nexus of heat, it doesn't matter. Across her chest, bold and golden, the crook and flail shine in the weakening almost-fall sunlight. Across her cheek, a small trail of precious stones drapes gracefully like a necklace.
"Kratos." she greets, the name warm on her tongue. Her voice is like velvet, smooth and pleasant. She smiles at him wryly. "Brother of the Tundra, son of the Deserts…" she pauses. "And the Valley. And the Dale." her voice is gentle, playful and wryly teasing. She wonders how much he's put together of who she is, whether the stories of what's happened in the Deserts have traveled to him yet.
She smiles at him, and as she does her eyes turn vivid yellow. She could mirror his electric – she feels the power within him, the way she feels the power within every magic-user of any form – but she holds off on that trick for now. It's no good if you show your hand; all good things take time. She smiles. "A pleasure to see you again."
CAMRYNN
co-queen of the deserts, magical, mother of badassery