09-26-2016, 01:36 PM
By keeping herself free of kingdoms, Djinni has unwittingly (or perhaps not, she is a clever thing) kept herself from being anything less than what she had been in the Desert. She was the firstborn of a king and queen madly in love, she was the oldest of a half-dozen long-legged siblings; she was a princess of the Desert.
Now there is no Desert, and Djinni has nothing to her name.
It is time to build something new, she knows, but she has yet to decide exactly where the foundations of her empire will begin. She has always known that someday she will be powerful, and that someday each mare, foal and stallion in Beqanna will know her name. Ambitious, perhaps, but the grullo mare has always been a little more than what meets the eye.
"I like the sand," she replies, and it is clear from both her fond expression and the sleek lines of her physique that Djinni never had a chance to not love the sand. Nayl is clearly of the same mind when it comes to the mountain, and the tobiano mare watches - more curiously than necessary - the snarl on the black and white's face as she looks up at the monstrous precipice.
"I think we're supposed to be learning a lesson," says the dove-grey mare, her tone far more mild than Nayl's. "I must admit,
I'm rather past the age where lessons can be drummed into my head so easily." She could be talking about the warm spring weather for all her quiet tone and expression show; there's no sign she's casually blaspheming against their very creator.
"What did you lose?" Djinni asks, turning her dark gaze from the mountain to focus suddenly, intently, on Nayl. She knows that the question is likely to be turned on her in time and that her answer will have no real substance. How can she explain that she has lost her very self? That the rings and chains were only the physical incarnation of the shimmering gold that once dwelt within her bones?
Now there is no Desert, and Djinni has nothing to her name.
It is time to build something new, she knows, but she has yet to decide exactly where the foundations of her empire will begin. She has always known that someday she will be powerful, and that someday each mare, foal and stallion in Beqanna will know her name. Ambitious, perhaps, but the grullo mare has always been a little more than what meets the eye.
"I like the sand," she replies, and it is clear from both her fond expression and the sleek lines of her physique that Djinni never had a chance to not love the sand. Nayl is clearly of the same mind when it comes to the mountain, and the tobiano mare watches - more curiously than necessary - the snarl on the black and white's face as she looks up at the monstrous precipice.
"I think we're supposed to be learning a lesson," says the dove-grey mare, her tone far more mild than Nayl's. "I must admit,
I'm rather past the age where lessons can be drummed into my head so easily." She could be talking about the warm spring weather for all her quiet tone and expression show; there's no sign she's casually blaspheming against their very creator.
"What did you lose?" Djinni asks, turning her dark gaze from the mountain to focus suddenly, intently, on Nayl. She knows that the question is likely to be turned on her in time and that her answer will have no real substance. How can she explain that she has lost her very self? That the rings and chains were only the physical incarnation of the shimmering gold that once dwelt within her bones?
D J I N N I
genie | rose gold tobiano dun | trickster