the dark, it burns my eyes; dahmer, any

[Djinni]

djinni

The well-guarded borders of the Old Beqanna are not enforced here in Sylva. There guard is still in its infancy, their diplomats nothing more than a band of horses that may or may not be interested in politics at all. The forest of Sylva is a quiet and peaceful place, sheltered from bitter winds of winter by the ever-red canopy of leaves overhead. It is still cold though, and grullo Djinni wears a shaggy winter coat, but the piles of snow that had broken through the canopy (simply because they were too heavy to hold any longer) are few and far between.

She rather misses the crunch of snow beneath her hooves, and the shatter of frozen saltwater as it crashes against the shore.

Djinni shakes her head and the rings in her ears jingle softly, drowning out the sound of the sea. They do not, however, mute the sound of someone calling from farther out in the woods, and Djinni falls still as she pinpoints the direction of the sound. She follows it, slipping through the trees. There is no path here, not yet, though she supposes that in a few dozen years the thoroughfares will be as deeply ingrained as the paths between kingdoms in Old Beqanna.

There are two stallions, a black and a buckskin, and Djinni approaches them with an easy smile.

“Hello gentlemen. Welcome to Sylva.” She nods in greeting, everything about the tobiano mare the very picture of friendliness. “I’m Djinni.”

current appearance:
slim build
smoky grullo minimal tobiano
sea green eyes