djinni;

[Nayl]

She spun the stars on her fingernails There was only the sound of crashing waves and a salty breeze. She left it behind her again, one of countless times that she abandoned her post at Nerine to seek conversation elsewhere. It doesn’t seem right there. Her heart isn’t thrumming with the excitement of a new land and new cause. In fact, her heart is gradually loosening its grip on the sisterhood. Nothing is what it once was which was the reasoning behind Beqanna’s rebirth, but Nayl is struggling to adapt. The shore is a place of death. When the sand cradles her hooves and her eyes drink in the bitterness of the sea, she only sees her mother’s swollen, rotted corpse. She sees the milky eyes of historic figures and their lost tales. She sees morbidity. With their numbers seemingly dwindling Nayl has taken refuge again elsewhere, but this time she is in search of company instead of fleeing it. Her autumn eyes sweep quickly over the meadow until she identifies the familiar grullo face in the heavy crowd. A sister, for lack of a better term, although the sense of the word is dying in their home. ”Djinni,” she says her name as more of a friend than an acquaintance now and her eyes are brighter, more curious. ”Nerine is quieter by the day,” she adds while settling comfortably at the mare’s side. A moment passes that she doesn’t speak and simply reflects on the time elapse of events since Beqanna’s rebirth. Then, rather placidly, she asks, ”Have you regained your powers?” Nayl covet and myrina's creation

@[kahzie]