02-18-2016, 04:39 PM
yael
In truth, it wouldn’t have bothered her if Demian had minded the intrusion, but since they’re playing nice, she’ll pretend his answer didn’t make her want to laugh out loud. He will be a rather… unusual King for the Valley, she thinks, drifting back to the days of the arrogant, but worthless duos that seemed to follow each other. The Valley’s had difficulty keeping Kings and Queens who care, but she supposes that is inherent in some of their natures. That which makes them suitable for the Valley’s reputation, may not make them suitable for the throne. And then some are just selfish, and refuse to step down. They can talk the talk, but can they walk the walk? Yael has dedicated the entirety of her life of B’kanna (even those days where she was drowning in sorrow and sleepless under the silent stars) to the Desert.
Perhaps Demian will be the change they need. Perhaps not. Yael doesn’t practice looking into the future; it is too fickle for her liking.
“Velcome, t’en,” she says as if she were B’kanna’s own ambassador. “I reemember vhen I vas new xere…” the golden mare starts, and then drifts off for a moment. That part of her history will always be sad, an indefinable blur of pain and smoke and thirst. It is, however, the story of who she is, and the beginning of what was literally the rest of her life - a life she never could have dreamed of otherwise. But she quickly bounces back from her reveries with a swivel of her ears as she looks from Demian to Chalmette and back again. Well, he certainly works fast, doesn’t he?
Not that the decision is a difficult one to make. Yael nods in agreement to the proposal, but cannot leave it at that. “Of course, I vould love to come see ze Valley,” - oops, that slipped out. She tries to race through to cover it up. “But I xaf vone small rekest for after t’at. You come see my xome too, in ze Desert.” It might be a moot point, after she sees the cool shade of the pine trees, and smells their sweet, fresh scent. Her home is nothing like that. But she wouldn’t want to underestimate the gray mare, or herself and Vanquish. With a look to her left, and then to her right, Yael indicates the empty space around them. “Lead ze vay, Demian.”
Perhaps Demian will be the change they need. Perhaps not. Yael doesn’t practice looking into the future; it is too fickle for her liking.
“Velcome, t’en,” she says as if she were B’kanna’s own ambassador. “I reemember vhen I vas new xere…” the golden mare starts, and then drifts off for a moment. That part of her history will always be sad, an indefinable blur of pain and smoke and thirst. It is, however, the story of who she is, and the beginning of what was literally the rest of her life - a life she never could have dreamed of otherwise. But she quickly bounces back from her reveries with a swivel of her ears as she looks from Demian to Chalmette and back again. Well, he certainly works fast, doesn’t he?
Not that the decision is a difficult one to make. Yael nods in agreement to the proposal, but cannot leave it at that. “Of course, I vould love to come see ze Valley,” - oops, that slipped out. She tries to race through to cover it up. “But I xaf vone small rekest for after t’at. You come see my xome too, in ze Desert.” It might be a moot point, after she sees the cool shade of the pine trees, and smells their sweet, fresh scent. Her home is nothing like that. But she wouldn’t want to underestimate the gray mare, or herself and Vanquish. With a look to her left, and then to her right, Yael indicates the empty space around them. “Lead ze vay, Demian.”
[yall can post first in the valley, i'll be away for the weekend]