04-21-2015, 02:32 PM
Camrynn may think whatever she likes of Yael’s reasons for demanding transparency, the once-Queen thought it a small price to pay for a healthy, well-cared for, and powerful kingdom. The Desert was her child as much as the four-legged ones that she pushed from her womb, and for Yael to hand it over without some sort of built-in precaution would be akin to abandonment. Asinine. Reckless. And yet just as the black mare holds no ill will towards the golden one, the opposite is true. Instead of the day to day minutiae, perhaps Yael can think about the longer-term well being of the Kingdom. She is the Guardian, after all. She has a direct link with the Desert.
Eventually they will have to talk of alliances and perhaps, even war. Lucrezia has disappeared, and Yael is not willing to let the diplomatic duties fall on the wayside. She will don the cloak again, if only for a little while. Once the will of the kingdom is known; once the discussions have been had and they have talked about it to death.
Today is not that day.
She chuckles, a throaty tinkle of notes that is completely genuine. “I doubt zat ees vhat you vere t’eenking… but eet ees not an uncommon kestyon. Eef I may show you eenstead…?” Now this particular trick she saw Morphine use more than once, allowing Yael (and other monarchs) into both her personal memories and an eagle-eye view of the massacre in the Valley, on two separate occasions. She briefly wonders if anyone has done this to Camrynn before. It can be… more than immersive. Some may become overwhelmed with the emotions of what they see, even by the emotions of the original experience. She’s never tried this with another magic user before, so perhaps Camrynn will feel nothing. She is strong, and Yael would never force such feelings (terror despair confusionpain ohgoditburnsherskin!) on anyone.
The golden mare turns her head to look directly at Camrynn, gentle brown eyes beckoning her to open her mind as Yael does. Slowly, the world around them fades away and they see Yael as a dark bay filly, chattering away in a foreign tongue and running with others both younger and older across a rocky desert that is not so different from their current one. The view changes to her personal memories now, the various children now given names - Tali, and Levi and Aaron - her sister and brothers - as they settle in for the night with their Ima and her tribe. The next thing they know, the air is filled with smoke and alarmed cries of azor lee! accompanied by screeches of pain. A nose jolts her hard and her Abba is pushing her and the smallest, Levi, in front of him, trying to guide them out of their communal area that seems to have been overtaken by some sort of wildfire - how and why it happened, Yael still does not know.
The exit is blocked by flames and burning bodies, but there are thin steppes carved into the sides of the walls. They are too tall for little Levi to reach, and too delicate to bear an adult’s weight, but yearlings have always climbed them in feats of bravery to impress girls and guys alike. Her Abba tells her to jump, to be the ibex, to not worry about them; her lungs are scorched and her fur singed by flying embers, the screams are deafening, and the flames grow ever closer. So Yael jumps and climbs and escapes, a blind sort of fear propelling her up and across and away from the deadly firetrap and she does not dare to look back. Blackened by soot, covered in singed fur, coughing and dehydrated, Yael runs and stumbles until she can go no further and eventually collapses into an exhausted, nightmarish sleep. The pattern continues for several days until she reaches lands that are familiar to them now, but at that time merely marked the end of Yael’s strength. She finds water - and a black mare finds her - using the universal body language to conquer the language barrier. This is why Yael believes love is the most powerful force.
The rest is history. Yael comes to the Desert with Fictional and begins to learn the B’kannan language. She runs with Galat, her first friend. She sees the King overthrown by two mares and pledges her loyalty. She earns those dearly beloved gilt wings with diplomacy. Two years later, she becomes Queen when Krys steps down.
And that is where the saga ends.
Present-day Yael closes her eyes and severs the link between them, shaking her head a bit to clear the residual emotions from her body. There are parts that come after that which she is unwilling to show anyone; they are her moments of weakness, her darkest times and her greatest treasures. Those are hers, and hers alone. Hers… and Van’s.
“Ees t’at vhat you vere looking for?” she says almost ironically. If nothing else, she earned her throne. She earned the love of the people. “And you? Vhat xas your journey been like?”
Tit for tat. This for that. Come now, Yael doesn’t judge. And she is mighty curious.
Eventually they will have to talk of alliances and perhaps, even war. Lucrezia has disappeared, and Yael is not willing to let the diplomatic duties fall on the wayside. She will don the cloak again, if only for a little while. Once the will of the kingdom is known; once the discussions have been had and they have talked about it to death.
Today is not that day.
She chuckles, a throaty tinkle of notes that is completely genuine. “I doubt zat ees vhat you vere t’eenking… but eet ees not an uncommon kestyon. Eef I may show you eenstead…?” Now this particular trick she saw Morphine use more than once, allowing Yael (and other monarchs) into both her personal memories and an eagle-eye view of the massacre in the Valley, on two separate occasions. She briefly wonders if anyone has done this to Camrynn before. It can be… more than immersive. Some may become overwhelmed with the emotions of what they see, even by the emotions of the original experience. She’s never tried this with another magic user before, so perhaps Camrynn will feel nothing. She is strong, and Yael would never force such feelings (terror despair confusionpain ohgoditburnsherskin!) on anyone.
The golden mare turns her head to look directly at Camrynn, gentle brown eyes beckoning her to open her mind as Yael does. Slowly, the world around them fades away and they see Yael as a dark bay filly, chattering away in a foreign tongue and running with others both younger and older across a rocky desert that is not so different from their current one. The view changes to her personal memories now, the various children now given names - Tali, and Levi and Aaron - her sister and brothers - as they settle in for the night with their Ima and her tribe. The next thing they know, the air is filled with smoke and alarmed cries of azor lee! accompanied by screeches of pain. A nose jolts her hard and her Abba is pushing her and the smallest, Levi, in front of him, trying to guide them out of their communal area that seems to have been overtaken by some sort of wildfire - how and why it happened, Yael still does not know.
The exit is blocked by flames and burning bodies, but there are thin steppes carved into the sides of the walls. They are too tall for little Levi to reach, and too delicate to bear an adult’s weight, but yearlings have always climbed them in feats of bravery to impress girls and guys alike. Her Abba tells her to jump, to be the ibex, to not worry about them; her lungs are scorched and her fur singed by flying embers, the screams are deafening, and the flames grow ever closer. So Yael jumps and climbs and escapes, a blind sort of fear propelling her up and across and away from the deadly firetrap and she does not dare to look back. Blackened by soot, covered in singed fur, coughing and dehydrated, Yael runs and stumbles until she can go no further and eventually collapses into an exhausted, nightmarish sleep. The pattern continues for several days until she reaches lands that are familiar to them now, but at that time merely marked the end of Yael’s strength. She finds water - and a black mare finds her - using the universal body language to conquer the language barrier. This is why Yael believes love is the most powerful force.
The rest is history. Yael comes to the Desert with Fictional and begins to learn the B’kannan language. She runs with Galat, her first friend. She sees the King overthrown by two mares and pledges her loyalty. She earns those dearly beloved gilt wings with diplomacy. Two years later, she becomes Queen when Krys steps down.
And that is where the saga ends.
Present-day Yael closes her eyes and severs the link between them, shaking her head a bit to clear the residual emotions from her body. There are parts that come after that which she is unwilling to show anyone; they are her moments of weakness, her darkest times and her greatest treasures. Those are hers, and hers alone. Hers… and Van’s.
“Ees t’at vhat you vere looking for?” she says almost ironically. If nothing else, she earned her throne. She earned the love of the people. “And you? Vhat xas your journey been like?”
Tit for tat. This for that. Come now, Yael doesn’t judge. And she is mighty curious.
Yael, guardian of the desert