10-22-2016, 11:39 AM
She is not made to lead things, not meant for the role she had been once given, twice accepted. So when the world returned Killdare to her, when even as a stranger he agreed to come back and stay with her in Tephra, it was an easy decision to step back from her role as a leader. Easier still that the others had done the same. She had only ever been Queen of the Chamber on behest of her powerful bay counterpart, only stepped up to lead again in Tephra because Killdare would have wanted her to protect his Chamberlings. But that man was gone and in his place stood someone who was not less, but he was not whole. He did not expect such aspiring things from the wild blue mare anymore; they were more strangers than paired, now. So it was easy to step back, easy to trust her people to Magnus- easy, because she trusted him wholly and trust was not a thing earned lightly from her. She would stay on as long as he would have her, but she is not made to be the leader of anything.
When he calls to them, she is nearby. It had always been reflexive to protect those she cared for, and it seems that the instinct to safeguard this leader is no different than the one she had felt when first she vowed the same for Killdare. One glance across the grassy plains reveals that she is not the only one to have heard his call. They are few, but surely it must be the same everywhere as families rebuild and friends still search for those they have lost. It made sense to her that so many chose to keep to themselves, that they should want to be tucked away within the reach of their own loved ones. But even now she can trace the movement of silhouettes against the green, dark smudges like ants collecting in the wake of Magnus. It seemed he had earned more than just her faith.
It doesn’t take long for those who will come to gather around him, and so she settles into a spot that is close enough to Magnus that she can trace the pale outline of every gold dapple strewn across his skin. She is silent when he speaks, curious, but unconcerned because she knows he is more than capable of caring for this family of strangers. He is clever and he is reasonable, logical, because this role is not a game for him, it is not a conquest. He is here only to protect his people, to create a haven among strangers.
It is something even Malis can believe in.
But the tone of the meeting changes when the dapple grey stallion joins them, cool and confident and arrogant in a way that is familiar. She would not have disliked him either if not for the words that came spilling from the dark slash of his mouth. But his words are like a splinter forced beneath her skin, catching and pulling and wholly unwelcomed. She steps forward to stand at Magnus’ shoulder, reaching out once to touch her mouth against his neck in a way that is possessive, a way she has never been able to shake. Her eyes on the grays face are dark and wild, flashing like cold emeralds in a burned earth. She feels naked without her abilities now, without the knowledge that her skin will knit back, without the row of curving obsidian horns like a strange crown on her face. But it was never that which made her reckless, never invulnerability that made her unafraid. So she fixes her attention on the dappled grey stallion, unconcerned with the way he dwarfed her or the wild she felt trapped beneath his eyes. She knew wild, and it loved her. Even now she could feel it thrash beneath her skin, static like trapped lightning, frothing and burning and molding into a chaos she could wield like a blade.
“He is not alone.” She says evenly, pointedly, and though it is not her usual threat, it is weighted and heavy with warning. Where are your friends, is what she means.
When he calls to them, she is nearby. It had always been reflexive to protect those she cared for, and it seems that the instinct to safeguard this leader is no different than the one she had felt when first she vowed the same for Killdare. One glance across the grassy plains reveals that she is not the only one to have heard his call. They are few, but surely it must be the same everywhere as families rebuild and friends still search for those they have lost. It made sense to her that so many chose to keep to themselves, that they should want to be tucked away within the reach of their own loved ones. But even now she can trace the movement of silhouettes against the green, dark smudges like ants collecting in the wake of Magnus. It seemed he had earned more than just her faith.
It doesn’t take long for those who will come to gather around him, and so she settles into a spot that is close enough to Magnus that she can trace the pale outline of every gold dapple strewn across his skin. She is silent when he speaks, curious, but unconcerned because she knows he is more than capable of caring for this family of strangers. He is clever and he is reasonable, logical, because this role is not a game for him, it is not a conquest. He is here only to protect his people, to create a haven among strangers.
It is something even Malis can believe in.
But the tone of the meeting changes when the dapple grey stallion joins them, cool and confident and arrogant in a way that is familiar. She would not have disliked him either if not for the words that came spilling from the dark slash of his mouth. But his words are like a splinter forced beneath her skin, catching and pulling and wholly unwelcomed. She steps forward to stand at Magnus’ shoulder, reaching out once to touch her mouth against his neck in a way that is possessive, a way she has never been able to shake. Her eyes on the grays face are dark and wild, flashing like cold emeralds in a burned earth. She feels naked without her abilities now, without the knowledge that her skin will knit back, without the row of curving obsidian horns like a strange crown on her face. But it was never that which made her reckless, never invulnerability that made her unafraid. So she fixes her attention on the dappled grey stallion, unconcerned with the way he dwarfed her or the wild she felt trapped beneath his eyes. She knew wild, and it loved her. Even now she could feel it thrash beneath her skin, static like trapped lightning, frothing and burning and molding into a chaos she could wield like a blade.
“He is not alone.” She says evenly, pointedly, and though it is not her usual threat, it is weighted and heavy with warning. Where are your friends, is what she means.
okay but this timeline is so confusing D: