04-27-2015, 11:04 PM
so you wanna play with magic?
She's not surprised that he distrusts her. She's more surprised that she dislikes his distrust.
Emotions flicker across his face and black vines curl across his skin, and she feels her smile fade, as though she too curls into herself, feeling sorrow and shame. She doesn't meet his gaze, not until he nudges her, and even then she looks with just half an eye, as though ashamed to look him in the eye. She watches his coat, hearing every thought, everything that runs through his mind. It's still so easy – he telegraphs it so loudly she's surprised every horse in the meadow can't hear his thoughts.
She sighs deeply, knowing that there's really just one thing to be done. Bergamot, she speaks directly into his mind, her voice soft as silk and gentle. It is not invasive, not frightening – in fact, the effect is rather like having a guardian angel whisper into your ear. It's handy, how being magic allows you to make yourself most anything. Her intentions with him really are pure – she really likes him, and he's so sweet, she doesn't want to be the one to break his little heart. She'd promised to show him the world, all she wants to do is keep that promise.
Let me show you where I went. Let me show you why I didn't return. her eyes are closed, and her face is partially turned away from him, as though she feels sorrow and shame so deeply that she simply can't face him. She is not tall and proud now; she is still impossibly graceful and beautiful, still something otherworldly, but she looks younger now, somehow closer to the child she had once pretended to be.
And even she doesn't know to what extent it's an act, and to what extent it's the truth. She's known forever that she has no desire to hurt the boy, and she does feel some legitimate shame that she's made him so jaded. Not only that, but she does have an incredible explanation for where she's been, and why she's been there. Once he sees what Scorch asked her, once he understands, she believes he will be relieved of his burden. Perhaps it will unwind the hurt.
It should say something that she's even asking him. Normally she'd just dive in telepathically, whipping him around through collective memory the way she'd slingshotted herself and Lokii through time. But this isn’t Lokii, this isn't just some horse – this is Bergamot, and like Pevensie, he doesn't deserve to be hurt.
And so she waits, wondering whether he'll give her the opportunity to dive deeper, to take him on a trip that will tell of gods and goddesses, of tests and intrigue and magic, or whether he'll write her off (as is his right) and she'll be left to decide which she values more: her sudden morality, or her desire to maintain his friendship.
Emotions flicker across his face and black vines curl across his skin, and she feels her smile fade, as though she too curls into herself, feeling sorrow and shame. She doesn't meet his gaze, not until he nudges her, and even then she looks with just half an eye, as though ashamed to look him in the eye. She watches his coat, hearing every thought, everything that runs through his mind. It's still so easy – he telegraphs it so loudly she's surprised every horse in the meadow can't hear his thoughts.
She sighs deeply, knowing that there's really just one thing to be done. Bergamot, she speaks directly into his mind, her voice soft as silk and gentle. It is not invasive, not frightening – in fact, the effect is rather like having a guardian angel whisper into your ear. It's handy, how being magic allows you to make yourself most anything. Her intentions with him really are pure – she really likes him, and he's so sweet, she doesn't want to be the one to break his little heart. She'd promised to show him the world, all she wants to do is keep that promise.
Let me show you where I went. Let me show you why I didn't return. her eyes are closed, and her face is partially turned away from him, as though she feels sorrow and shame so deeply that she simply can't face him. She is not tall and proud now; she is still impossibly graceful and beautiful, still something otherworldly, but she looks younger now, somehow closer to the child she had once pretended to be.
And even she doesn't know to what extent it's an act, and to what extent it's the truth. She's known forever that she has no desire to hurt the boy, and she does feel some legitimate shame that she's made him so jaded. Not only that, but she does have an incredible explanation for where she's been, and why she's been there. Once he sees what Scorch asked her, once he understands, she believes he will be relieved of his burden. Perhaps it will unwind the hurt.
It should say something that she's even asking him. Normally she'd just dive in telepathically, whipping him around through collective memory the way she'd slingshotted herself and Lokii through time. But this isn’t Lokii, this isn't just some horse – this is Bergamot, and like Pevensie, he doesn't deserve to be hurt.
And so she waits, wondering whether he'll give her the opportunity to dive deeper, to take him on a trip that will tell of gods and goddesses, of tests and intrigue and magic, or whether he'll write her off (as is his right) and she'll be left to decide which she values more: her sudden morality, or her desire to maintain his friendship.
CAMRYNN
co-queen of the deserts, magical, mother of badassery