08-26-2016, 12:48 PM
I was in the darkness; so the darkness I became.
The Valley was slowly waking; a sleeping dragon lazily opening an eye while smoke curled up from its nostrils. It was rising without the typical fanfare, somewhat like a storm as it crested the horizon. The implications were certainly there in the heavy roll of thunder, but without the rain its meaning wasn’t clear. For now it would be safe to stand and watch the clouds billow. That is, until lightning split the sky and scorched the earth. Like the storm, the Valley was growing in strength. Before long, that electric charge would need a proper outlet for its chaotic energy.
The raising of triplets was a tiresome task, and one she did not take lightly. They were the future of the kingdom, a proverbial dynasty cloaked in mousy dun fur. Their powers differed but they were so much alike; she supposed that sharing a womb for nearly a year gave them an uncommonly strong bond. Even the awkward one, Kilter, was a gifted child though she hadn’t quite figured out his gift yet. Not blessed with telepathy, she often reprimanded Knoxlyn and Keel for leaving him out of their childish conversations. Despite being able to keep things from him, they were not able to keep things from her. Today though, they were playing quietly in one of the caves Eight had showed them. It made the perfect nest for unruly children, and so she left them there so as to complete kingdom business. Eventually she would allow them to tag along; today was not that day.
Today, she would enjoy the solitude of a crisp winters day. She would speak with grown horses and not entertain the banter of careless youth. As she wandered her aimless path, she felt the surge of Eights magic ripple through the land. While they were not a couple by the conventional means, they were tied together in their own way. Raising her head, she stared in that direction, opening her mind and searching for others. Eight, Gunsynd…and a new mare. With a soft smile she picked up an easy trot, heading towards the trio at a brisk, but leisurely pace. Finally, she reached them. She felt a shiver as she drifted through the magic. The grulla offered a silent hello to the two stallions, sparing a wry smile for Gunsynd; there was more than a little tension between them at the moment. “Welcome to the Valley, Aranea.” she said into the roans mind, having caught her name on arrival. While she may not have been cut from original Valley cloth, she still had an air of belonging to her. “Or should I say, welcome home.”
Topsail
Queen of the Valley