02-08-2016, 10:47 AM
yael
Seek and you shall find.
He comes for his own heart, unlike the others. He is not there for power, for anything to further his own reputation, or to ingratiate himself to one who could move the earth if that was what she desired. He comes out of love, seeking the unknown and unknowable for a chance at something they all elusively seek. She has to admire that.
She admires, and she gives almost freely, for Yael knows what it is like to hunger for someone.
The gold and silver mare (is that what a magician looks like? Evrae adorns herself in all colors imaginable, Cam bedecked herself in jewels, but Eight was a simple black) arrives on gilded wings, without fanfare or pretension. A bright speck that comes from the green area and grows larger on the horizon, until it becomes identifiable as a horse, and then, perhaps, shiny in the sun. She lands in front of him, immediately finding her sand-legs, and folding her wings against her sides. Silver-bleached mane and tail are windswept and raggedy, but it gives her a sort of wild beauty that compliments her long, lean lines. Yael was made for the Desert.
“You called?” she asks, a bit teasingly.
His nervousness is endearing.
He comes for his own heart, unlike the others. He is not there for power, for anything to further his own reputation, or to ingratiate himself to one who could move the earth if that was what she desired. He comes out of love, seeking the unknown and unknowable for a chance at something they all elusively seek. She has to admire that.
She admires, and she gives almost freely, for Yael knows what it is like to hunger for someone.
The gold and silver mare (is that what a magician looks like? Evrae adorns herself in all colors imaginable, Cam bedecked herself in jewels, but Eight was a simple black) arrives on gilded wings, without fanfare or pretension. A bright speck that comes from the green area and grows larger on the horizon, until it becomes identifiable as a horse, and then, perhaps, shiny in the sun. She lands in front of him, immediately finding her sand-legs, and folding her wings against her sides. Silver-bleached mane and tail are windswept and raggedy, but it gives her a sort of wild beauty that compliments her long, lean lines. Yael was made for the Desert.
“You called?” she asks, a bit teasingly.
His nervousness is endearing.