She’s not sure what exactly she’s supposed to be doing here, in her two years of service, because it seems pretty dead. Kellyn hasn’t even met the stallion she’d sworn to serve when she sold herself to Pangea for two years so that the magician would restore her powers – though she has come across a few scents that she supposes might be his. The rest of the place is a wasteland, and it hasn’t grown on her at all since Harmonia brought her here. If anything, she has grown more disgusted it as time goes by.
Water is scarce, though not non-existent, and she finds herself thirsty now, probably from all the dirt she ends up eating when she’s scrounging for food. The strawberry roan mare sincerely hopes that something will begin to grow here soon, or else what use is the Kingdom? Why would anyone come here? Though, from what she knows of her grandfather who created it, it would be just the sort of place that would perversely please him. The fae strip everyone’s powers and make new, fantastic lands for them to live? Let’s create a wasteland. Yes, just like Carnage.
But she is thirsty, so she heads absently for the trickle of water that runs in the once-great riverbed, and is surprised to find herself not alone. Blinking at the two strangers, Kellyn pauses in her approach, hazel eyes confused for a long moment as she listens, but then shakes off the apathy and walks forward to meet them.
“There are people here,” she says, looking at the one who had spoken. (She chokes back the ‘unfortunately’ that she wants to add, because she is quite sure driving away newcomers isn’t part of serving Pollock and Pangea.) She wasn’t much bigger than Kellyn, though of course she was; almost everyone was. Except her mother – Kellyn had at least outgrown her mother, though it is that woman’s fault that she had grown only to pony-sized and then stopped. Or, rather, her grandmother’s fault, because Elke was rumored to have been even shorter than Elite.
“I’m Kellyn. Welcome to Pangea, I suppose. Or what’s left of it.” Despite her best efforts, she can’t hide the flash of distaste in her eyes as she surveys the dust and dead vegetation that surround them. Thankfully, the more they walk on it, the more it crumbles into dust. Dust is better than withered, dying green things. At least once the dead plants are gone, it will be less obvious that this had once been something better. Even lands have ghosts, and Kellyn is tired of seeing this one.
daughter of cagney and elite