the dead are gone, and the living are hungry.
She is asleep when the voice calls to her.
She jumps to her feet, startled, straining her ears to catch the sound.
“Lexa … come to ze Deserts …”
The voice is soft and lilting, seemingly coming from everywhere at once. It’s unnatural - it should scare her - but there’s also something oddly familiar about it too. It feels connected to … something. Something far back in her memory that she can’t quite grasp.
Curious, Lexa reaches out with her power, feeling through the earth to search out nearby creatures. A couple of tamarin, a sloth, two capybara, a macaw … but no horse. She is alone.
It’s magic then. Magic is at work.
She pulls carbon from the ground, strapping little disks of the black material to her feet, and thrusting them upwards into the air. Her feet rise a few inches off the ground. It’s a trick her mother has been forcing her to practice lately, in her few motherly moments. “Never know when it’ll come in handy,” the mare parrots at her every time. She’s not very good at it yet, but she’s grateful now for the prodding - her trip to the Deserts will be much shorter and easier than it would have been otherwise. And, without another thought, she zooms off.
____________________________________
She reaches the Desert in what she thinks must be record time, with only a few undignified falls along the way. When she reaches the border she releases the carbon back into the earth, and steps across. She will not bother with kingdom niceties now. She has been called here after all.
Something continues to pull her forward across the sands, and she walks and walks, until she comes across a massive oak, that simply should not be. Under its spreading bows lounges a massive, winged pitch black stallion, attended by a bay mare, and a brightly coloured young colt.
She approaches cautiously, keeping her power in her grasp, in case this is some sort of weird ambush (though she doubts it - in the world of Beqanna she is a no one). When she is close enough to call out, but far enough away to make an escape if necessary, she raises her voice. “Who is the one that called me here?”
Is it her father? She hopes so - that hope is the main reason she actually answered the voice. She knows little of her father, except that he is very dark and very large, that his name is Gaza and that, once upon a time, he called the Deserts home. Mother had said he had left the Deserts … but maybe he could have returned.
She jumps to her feet, startled, straining her ears to catch the sound.
“Lexa … come to ze Deserts …”
The voice is soft and lilting, seemingly coming from everywhere at once. It’s unnatural - it should scare her - but there’s also something oddly familiar about it too. It feels connected to … something. Something far back in her memory that she can’t quite grasp.
Curious, Lexa reaches out with her power, feeling through the earth to search out nearby creatures. A couple of tamarin, a sloth, two capybara, a macaw … but no horse. She is alone.
It’s magic then. Magic is at work.
She pulls carbon from the ground, strapping little disks of the black material to her feet, and thrusting them upwards into the air. Her feet rise a few inches off the ground. It’s a trick her mother has been forcing her to practice lately, in her few motherly moments. “Never know when it’ll come in handy,” the mare parrots at her every time. She’s not very good at it yet, but she’s grateful now for the prodding - her trip to the Deserts will be much shorter and easier than it would have been otherwise. And, without another thought, she zooms off.
She reaches the Desert in what she thinks must be record time, with only a few undignified falls along the way. When she reaches the border she releases the carbon back into the earth, and steps across. She will not bother with kingdom niceties now. She has been called here after all.
Something continues to pull her forward across the sands, and she walks and walks, until she comes across a massive oak, that simply should not be. Under its spreading bows lounges a massive, winged pitch black stallion, attended by a bay mare, and a brightly coloured young colt.
She approaches cautiously, keeping her power in her grasp, in case this is some sort of weird ambush (though she doubts it - in the world of Beqanna she is a no one). When she is close enough to call out, but far enough away to make an escape if necessary, she raises her voice. “Who is the one that called me here?”
Is it her father? She hopes so - that hope is the main reason she actually answered the voice. She knows little of her father, except that he is very dark and very large, that his name is Gaza and that, once upon a time, he called the Deserts home. Mother had said he had left the Deserts … but maybe he could have returned.
lexa
Ewww forgive me, I haven't posted in a while.