oh, where do we begin? the rubble or our sins?
It is petty, perhaps, for her to steal the child from the depths of the Valley; no, not steal, but call to it as if it were her own. She is, in a way - in the way that Van’s blood is her blood - and in the way that most children have a place in her heart. If Evrae did not want the girl (which quite frankly, does not surprise her), and Tarnished (who can’t even be bothered to care for his own kin) didn’t, then Yael would.
There are few others who can fly across the skies with her, bellowing fire and brimstone and crying out their claim upon the sands. No one can blame the woman for wanting such a thing. Those close to her know her child-collecting inclinations, and those that visit the Desert have seen the rag-tag band of yearlings and adults that call the sands their home. The Desert is a haven, and even if they lack actual, contributing members of the kingdom, she knows that her children would rise up to protect their home from an attack, if need be. Even so, the golden mare has spent so much time patrolling as a dragon lately, that it seems only natural that she would feel the birth of another. Yael shifts into the monstrous form and raises herself upon her hindquarters, crooning a sweet, sad song into the sky.
Come, it says. Be strong, it says. Your mother is waiting for you.
A life for a life, she thinks. Pollock killed Nyxia. Yael will take Volaire.
And soon there will be two dragons.
There are few others who can fly across the skies with her, bellowing fire and brimstone and crying out their claim upon the sands. No one can blame the woman for wanting such a thing. Those close to her know her child-collecting inclinations, and those that visit the Desert have seen the rag-tag band of yearlings and adults that call the sands their home. The Desert is a haven, and even if they lack actual, contributing members of the kingdom, she knows that her children would rise up to protect their home from an attack, if need be. Even so, the golden mare has spent so much time patrolling as a dragon lately, that it seems only natural that she would feel the birth of another. Yael shifts into the monstrous form and raises herself upon her hindquarters, crooning a sweet, sad song into the sky.
Come, it says. Be strong, it says. Your mother is waiting for you.
A life for a life, she thinks. Pollock killed Nyxia. Yael will take Volaire.
And soon there will be two dragons.
YAEL
mother, queen, magician
whaaaat, i'm not almost a month late with this... :/