06-22-2016, 09:12 PM
oh, where do we begin? the rubble or our sins?
Yael’s been striking out left and right lately, and it is slightly frustrating. Never more than slightly, for the golden once-queen, now-consort, magician, and mother, would never admit that her failures are more than ‘slightly frustrating.’ Decorum, she always has some ounce of decorum, unless she’s a raging dragon. And then all bets are off.
She looks the same way she always has: doused in gold by Morphine’s magic, adorning herself in the gilded, oversized wings she once earned in her first role as Ambassador, and sporting the only sign that she has (with the Desert Gods’ aid) touched raw magic, which bleached her mane and tail to silver. Silver and gold and the sweet, sweaty spice of the Desert. The only home she’s ever known in B’kanna, and one of the few places she would fight all her demons (and then her mate’s as well) for. Today, the wind is just right, a cool, but not too chilly frontrunner of the despised winter. Today, she matches some of the leave on the trees, and today - today, she is an effervescent mood. Bubbly, congenial, and ready to mix and mingle with the motley crew of the Field.
Really, you must excuse her. When you’ve lived as long as she has, some days are a 10.5 and some days are 1.5, and there is no explanation for either.
Yael lands smack dab in the middle of the Field and takes a moment to look around, before honing in a mare attended by only a single stallion. She seems to hold herself with some confidence, waiting around to gain as many prospects as possible - and her smile - yes, Yael knows that smile. She’s curled her lips in such a way many-a-time. With her wings folded at her sides (and really, almost dwarfing her petite frame), she invites herself into their circle and directs her words towards the mare. “You know t’ere ahr ozer options, yes? You need not bind yourself to a man.” She pauses for a moment, and throws a look to the stallion. Nothing personal, of course. The Desert needs some fresh air. She continues, “I ahm Yael, of ze Desert. Eet ees a pleasure to meet you, Zenzi.” And she smiles, mirroring the mare’s own secret-keeping smile.
Oh, Yael could show her a hundred secrets.
She looks the same way she always has: doused in gold by Morphine’s magic, adorning herself in the gilded, oversized wings she once earned in her first role as Ambassador, and sporting the only sign that she has (with the Desert Gods’ aid) touched raw magic, which bleached her mane and tail to silver. Silver and gold and the sweet, sweaty spice of the Desert. The only home she’s ever known in B’kanna, and one of the few places she would fight all her demons (and then her mate’s as well) for. Today, the wind is just right, a cool, but not too chilly frontrunner of the despised winter. Today, she matches some of the leave on the trees, and today - today, she is an effervescent mood. Bubbly, congenial, and ready to mix and mingle with the motley crew of the Field.
Really, you must excuse her. When you’ve lived as long as she has, some days are a 10.5 and some days are 1.5, and there is no explanation for either.
Yael lands smack dab in the middle of the Field and takes a moment to look around, before honing in a mare attended by only a single stallion. She seems to hold herself with some confidence, waiting around to gain as many prospects as possible - and her smile - yes, Yael knows that smile. She’s curled her lips in such a way many-a-time. With her wings folded at her sides (and really, almost dwarfing her petite frame), she invites herself into their circle and directs her words towards the mare. “You know t’ere ahr ozer options, yes? You need not bind yourself to a man.” She pauses for a moment, and throws a look to the stallion. Nothing personal, of course. The Desert needs some fresh air. She continues, “I ahm Yael, of ze Desert. Eet ees a pleasure to meet you, Zenzi.” And she smiles, mirroring the mare’s own secret-keeping smile.
Oh, Yael could show her a hundred secrets.
YAEL
mother, queen, magician