06-09-2015, 08:57 PM
so you wanna play with magic?
She had been the newest, once. She hadn't much cared for it, and it was a title she had been glad to lose. She preferred seniority, to have the magical advantage that only age seems to confer. Because how else can power be decided amongst magicians? There is Carnage, with his murder and his theft of magic, his double dose of power so strong that he breaks apart worlds like some break bread. And then there are the rest of them, trailing at various distances in his dust, separated only by the ancientness of their magic.
Camrynn is a student of the ancient and a student of magic. In fact, she's a student of everything; knowledge is her driving passion, and it has an ironic tendency to drive her far past the edges of what others would consider reasonable. Her thirst for knowledge is what landed her on the Deserts throne. It's what makes her a born queen, a ruler capable of blossoming (and making a kingdom blossom) whatever throne she happened to sit.
And it's what made her notice the second a new magician was conceived.
She's been (gently, respectfully) following Isilya ever since the girl had been created. She'd felt it then, a delicate tug on her magic, as though a new link were being added to a vast chain. It's not that magic had been taken from her, or from any of the other magicians. It's more that they all felt connected somehow, and this was simply another step in the connection. And so she'd known then, and had been able to sense the power brewing in the girl, sleeping like a coiled pet snake – the kind that just looks adorable and precious, but also a little terrifying.
She has never doubted that she will approach the girl. It is her way to approach fellow magicians; she's already met more of them than perhaps anyone in recent memory. Eight, Evrae, Jason, Yael, and (soon) Errant - so many of them walk the earth, and so many of them are friends (or at least acquaintances) of the black illusionist queen of the Deserts. She hopes desperately to add Isilya to the list. Hope is not a familiar emotion for her; she is accustomed to knowing (or at least being pretty darn certain) of how most things will work out, and she's accustomed to playing every scenario to end in her favor. Only the magicians are immune. Only with them will she never disrespect, never touch what isn't hers to touch, never meddle.
And so it is that she is not meddling as she dozes in the Deserts. She is thinking of Isilya, but is not seeking the girl, not watching her as she's watched so many others. It isn't until she feels the girl's mind relax, feels the nascent power blooming from several kingdoms away, that Camrynn turns her attention in that direction. Isilya dreams, she can feel it on the edges of her own consciousness, and Camrynn gets an idea.
Perhaps the girl wouldn't mind having a little company.
Gently, ever so gently, Camrynn touches the girl's consciousness with her own. It is a tenuous, almost tender moment as the magician-queen seeks permission. Such is her respect for a fellow magician; anywhere else and she wouldn't even think to hesitate. Finding the girl receptive to a dream companion, Camrynn delicately pushes through into the dream world, moving as carefully as one moves through water while keeping the surface from rippling.
Here in the dream world, everything is beautiful. It looks like the Dale (the girl's imagination at work, she thinks) but it smells like heaven. The place is a riot of flowers and springtime creatures, ironically mirroring the relative riot of butterflies and daisies that make a bed for the girl in reality.
Camrynn looks almost out of place here, too dark against the springtime background. She would never dream of appearing in disguise before another magician, and so is completely herself. Black with no white markings, an elegant and lovely thoroughbred with a flowing mane and tail, a gold crook-and-flail gilded across her chest, a string of diamonds like a necklace across one cheek, and color changing eyes – for the moment fixed at a deep lilac-purple.
She inhales once, smelling the dream fragrance that fills the air around them. "Oh, how lovely." she says aloud, and her voice is light with enjoyment. She opens her eyes then, looking for the girl whose dream she's so gently invaded. The black mare smiles. Somewhere in the distance, a waterfall chimes gently, and a bird sings softly, a lullaby for paradise.
Camrynn is a student of the ancient and a student of magic. In fact, she's a student of everything; knowledge is her driving passion, and it has an ironic tendency to drive her far past the edges of what others would consider reasonable. Her thirst for knowledge is what landed her on the Deserts throne. It's what makes her a born queen, a ruler capable of blossoming (and making a kingdom blossom) whatever throne she happened to sit.
And it's what made her notice the second a new magician was conceived.
She's been (gently, respectfully) following Isilya ever since the girl had been created. She'd felt it then, a delicate tug on her magic, as though a new link were being added to a vast chain. It's not that magic had been taken from her, or from any of the other magicians. It's more that they all felt connected somehow, and this was simply another step in the connection. And so she'd known then, and had been able to sense the power brewing in the girl, sleeping like a coiled pet snake – the kind that just looks adorable and precious, but also a little terrifying.
She has never doubted that she will approach the girl. It is her way to approach fellow magicians; she's already met more of them than perhaps anyone in recent memory. Eight, Evrae, Jason, Yael, and (soon) Errant - so many of them walk the earth, and so many of them are friends (or at least acquaintances) of the black illusionist queen of the Deserts. She hopes desperately to add Isilya to the list. Hope is not a familiar emotion for her; she is accustomed to knowing (or at least being pretty darn certain) of how most things will work out, and she's accustomed to playing every scenario to end in her favor. Only the magicians are immune. Only with them will she never disrespect, never touch what isn't hers to touch, never meddle.
And so it is that she is not meddling as she dozes in the Deserts. She is thinking of Isilya, but is not seeking the girl, not watching her as she's watched so many others. It isn't until she feels the girl's mind relax, feels the nascent power blooming from several kingdoms away, that Camrynn turns her attention in that direction. Isilya dreams, she can feel it on the edges of her own consciousness, and Camrynn gets an idea.
Perhaps the girl wouldn't mind having a little company.
Gently, ever so gently, Camrynn touches the girl's consciousness with her own. It is a tenuous, almost tender moment as the magician-queen seeks permission. Such is her respect for a fellow magician; anywhere else and she wouldn't even think to hesitate. Finding the girl receptive to a dream companion, Camrynn delicately pushes through into the dream world, moving as carefully as one moves through water while keeping the surface from rippling.
Here in the dream world, everything is beautiful. It looks like the Dale (the girl's imagination at work, she thinks) but it smells like heaven. The place is a riot of flowers and springtime creatures, ironically mirroring the relative riot of butterflies and daisies that make a bed for the girl in reality.
Camrynn looks almost out of place here, too dark against the springtime background. She would never dream of appearing in disguise before another magician, and so is completely herself. Black with no white markings, an elegant and lovely thoroughbred with a flowing mane and tail, a gold crook-and-flail gilded across her chest, a string of diamonds like a necklace across one cheek, and color changing eyes – for the moment fixed at a deep lilac-purple.
She inhales once, smelling the dream fragrance that fills the air around them. "Oh, how lovely." she says aloud, and her voice is light with enjoyment. She opens her eyes then, looking for the girl whose dream she's so gently invaded. The black mare smiles. Somewhere in the distance, a waterfall chimes gently, and a bird sings softly, a lullaby for paradise.
CAMRYNN
co-queen of the deserts, magical, mother of badassery