04-27-2015, 11:27 PM
so you wanna play with magic?
"It was one of many things. Who ever thinks of just one thing? The mind can do so much more." her words are gentle, spoken with a hint of a smile. "And it would be an honor if you would show me." she speaks, and she means it. She is no stranger to sharing memories this way, and when Yael suggests it, she is in fact eager. It's a terribly practical thing, really, a great way to communicate things far more vibrantly than ever possible through words. Being a magician (and using the technique herself), she's rather practiced at managing the emotional rush that always ensues.
But even she is not unaffected by the trials of the small filly. She respects the woman even more deeply as she watches Yael grow from an awkward child, struggling with a language barrier, into a confident queen. Camrynn had never doubted that Yael had earned the throne. No one in the Deserts (except, perhaps, her) had ever failed to earn it, and earn it thoroughly. Even Pevensie had. But where Pevensie's main claim to the throne was the fact that she had earned it, Camrynn's was the fact that it suited her like a strange glove. She was a born ruler, oddly enough. Not like Yael was – Yael was born to be a queen of the Deserts, born to be forever its guardian, born to give it everything. Camrynn is born to pull the strings, born to be the one at the top, the ringmaster of the circus.
Yael speaks, and it takes Camrynn a moment to think of what she could possibly say. And so she settles for the one thing she can think of. "I'm sorry about your family. I'm glad you forged a new one for yourself here in Beqanna." she offers with a smile, touching the other mare delicately with her muzzle.
And then Yael asks about her. The half-smile twists her features again and she snorts gently. "There is less to tell than you'd think."
The world around them melts away, and they stand, the two of them, on the edges of the Valley. There is a mare, nondescript, who gives birth to a pure-black child and leaves before she can even properly stand. The girl is unfazed – her only reaction as she watches her mother walk away is for her eyes to shift, turning a deep stormcloud grey. This is Camrynn as she was when first born, before there was magic. Shrugging it off, she teaches herself how to stand, and marches out of the Valley with a determined ease.
The world turns again, and she comes back into the Valley. She is older now, but still not old. She walks with a confidence, a knowledge, a bearing more similar to what she is now. It is easy to see the glimmers of her personality at this stage, as she pledges herself to the Forsaken Valley, working for it under Vampyric and Expelliarmus, becoming one of the Divine, the Inner Circle, in the kingdom that her grandmother had always loved. There are moments, times when she plays with her illusions, hints of how she'd use her magic when it came.
And then, there is the Catastrophe.
She runs, confused, through a Beqanna gone mad. The earth shakes, the sky pours, everything is wrong – and suddenly, she is swallowed up by the ground, tossed and turned within it like a strange terrestrial womb. She is the key element in some strange refining process, a diamond being taken from very rough to entirely smooth. And when she emerges, she is magic. It has worked its way into her bones, entwining itself with everything she is, the very essence of who she is. It takes her almost no time at all to get used to it, for it to become an extra limb, an extension of herself.
They see is Camrynn leaving Beqanna, taking her grandmother Librette and walking out of the world. The years turn, and suddenly Librette is back in the Valley, and Camrynn awakes beside an oasis, cloaks herself in the body of a filly, and returns to Beqanna. Yael sees it all with fresh eyes, the way that Camrynn rips space-time in two to accommodate her desire to go with both Pevensie and Scorch, the way that she pretends to be something innocent and perfect, something she has never been. The way she swears to the jungle, and the way she arrives at the competition and knows that she could never rule a kingdom in the name of another.
It ends when filly-Cammie joins the circle of horses around Isis' cup, just before she takes a sip of the purple liquid.
And then they return to the Deserts, to their kingdom, to each other. Camrynn too has many things she's not ready to share with the Deserts queen – Yael is not the only one who keeps secrets. No one needs to know of her interactions with Eight and Evrae, her various 'favors' and how she calls in those marks. Everyone has their secrets.
"Like I said, nothing much." she shrugs. She does not believe her story is remarkable, at least not to one like Yael who understands what it is to use magic.
She lets the silence hang for a moment, before she asks a question about which she is deeply curious. Not because she thinks Yael knows the actual answer (although she might, it's not impossible) but because she wants to hear what Yael thinks on the matter.
"Why do you think they chose me?" she asks, looking out across the vast expanse of sand, her voice quieter, thinner, more reserved than it usually is. After a moment, she looks back to Yael, her eyes a shining Deserts-gold. She can think of many answers, many things that might (or might not) qualify her. But above all, she wants to know Yael's thoughts.
But even she is not unaffected by the trials of the small filly. She respects the woman even more deeply as she watches Yael grow from an awkward child, struggling with a language barrier, into a confident queen. Camrynn had never doubted that Yael had earned the throne. No one in the Deserts (except, perhaps, her) had ever failed to earn it, and earn it thoroughly. Even Pevensie had. But where Pevensie's main claim to the throne was the fact that she had earned it, Camrynn's was the fact that it suited her like a strange glove. She was a born ruler, oddly enough. Not like Yael was – Yael was born to be a queen of the Deserts, born to be forever its guardian, born to give it everything. Camrynn is born to pull the strings, born to be the one at the top, the ringmaster of the circus.
Yael speaks, and it takes Camrynn a moment to think of what she could possibly say. And so she settles for the one thing she can think of. "I'm sorry about your family. I'm glad you forged a new one for yourself here in Beqanna." she offers with a smile, touching the other mare delicately with her muzzle.
And then Yael asks about her. The half-smile twists her features again and she snorts gently. "There is less to tell than you'd think."
The world around them melts away, and they stand, the two of them, on the edges of the Valley. There is a mare, nondescript, who gives birth to a pure-black child and leaves before she can even properly stand. The girl is unfazed – her only reaction as she watches her mother walk away is for her eyes to shift, turning a deep stormcloud grey. This is Camrynn as she was when first born, before there was magic. Shrugging it off, she teaches herself how to stand, and marches out of the Valley with a determined ease.
The world turns again, and she comes back into the Valley. She is older now, but still not old. She walks with a confidence, a knowledge, a bearing more similar to what she is now. It is easy to see the glimmers of her personality at this stage, as she pledges herself to the Forsaken Valley, working for it under Vampyric and Expelliarmus, becoming one of the Divine, the Inner Circle, in the kingdom that her grandmother had always loved. There are moments, times when she plays with her illusions, hints of how she'd use her magic when it came.
And then, there is the Catastrophe.
She runs, confused, through a Beqanna gone mad. The earth shakes, the sky pours, everything is wrong – and suddenly, she is swallowed up by the ground, tossed and turned within it like a strange terrestrial womb. She is the key element in some strange refining process, a diamond being taken from very rough to entirely smooth. And when she emerges, she is magic. It has worked its way into her bones, entwining itself with everything she is, the very essence of who she is. It takes her almost no time at all to get used to it, for it to become an extra limb, an extension of herself.
They see is Camrynn leaving Beqanna, taking her grandmother Librette and walking out of the world. The years turn, and suddenly Librette is back in the Valley, and Camrynn awakes beside an oasis, cloaks herself in the body of a filly, and returns to Beqanna. Yael sees it all with fresh eyes, the way that Camrynn rips space-time in two to accommodate her desire to go with both Pevensie and Scorch, the way that she pretends to be something innocent and perfect, something she has never been. The way she swears to the jungle, and the way she arrives at the competition and knows that she could never rule a kingdom in the name of another.
It ends when filly-Cammie joins the circle of horses around Isis' cup, just before she takes a sip of the purple liquid.
And then they return to the Deserts, to their kingdom, to each other. Camrynn too has many things she's not ready to share with the Deserts queen – Yael is not the only one who keeps secrets. No one needs to know of her interactions with Eight and Evrae, her various 'favors' and how she calls in those marks. Everyone has their secrets.
"Like I said, nothing much." she shrugs. She does not believe her story is remarkable, at least not to one like Yael who understands what it is to use magic.
She lets the silence hang for a moment, before she asks a question about which she is deeply curious. Not because she thinks Yael knows the actual answer (although she might, it's not impossible) but because she wants to hear what Yael thinks on the matter.
"Why do you think they chose me?" she asks, looking out across the vast expanse of sand, her voice quieter, thinner, more reserved than it usually is. After a moment, she looks back to Yael, her eyes a shining Deserts-gold. She can think of many answers, many things that might (or might not) qualify her. But above all, she wants to know Yael's thoughts.
CAMRYNN
co-queen of the deserts, magical, mother of badassery