Grey haired and wrapped in the feathery mantle of mourning dove wings, Djinni makes her way through the woods of Sylva toward their central gathering area. Near the heart of the kingdom is one of the largest of the boulders in the land. A massive dark stone erupts from the earth, and judging by the lack of trees in the surrounding meadow, must continue for a long ways underground as well. She walks through the meadow, starling a flock of quail, and climbs up the stone, one level at a time until she stops. There is still one higher level of stone, from which one might feel like a monarch surveying their empire (or like they can fly, as the little ones who scale the heights often pretend). She stays lower, high enough to be heard without appearing too regal.
Her eyes are bright, looking pale from a distance. Only up close is the perfectly mimicked color of a while opal, snow and flecked with a pastel rainbow. They are happy eyes, a fitting expression above the more serious line of her mouth. They have business to attend to. She has resigned herself to responsibility for a few hours, and it is tolerable only because she knows it is temporary.
A small trade – an hour of freedom for days spent fret-free.
It’s not quite unbalanced enough for her, but Djinni has accepted regardless. She can’t go back now.
“I want to thank you all for continuing to trust me with Sylva.” She begins, looking a bit longer at those faces that had questioned her upon her arrival, not lingering but so excessively as to be noticed. “I’d like to introduce some of our newest residents -” Member sounds too exclusive Djinni thinks as she gestures to each face as they are named. “- Zai, and Luster, and her family. ” The two older horses she doesn’t know, but her voice doesn’t falter; the word family is just as casual as Luster’s name.
“Thank you to those of you who have been watching our borders,” Djinni says as she eyes the horses she knows to be patrolling, giving them each a grateful smile. “And thank you to those who have been traveling to the Field and greeting newcomers.” They are not numerous, but neither is the population of the Sylvan Forest. Still, they are appreciated.
“We’d like to organize a few activities,” she says, adding that “There’s no need to do them if you’d rather not, of course,” before there is time for complaints to be voiced. “Perhaps a few sparring matches with those interested in improving their battle skills and making a plan for some visits to the other lands.”
Please let that be all, she thinks. Let them ask their questions later, let her stay up here for as short a time as possible. Already she is ready to run, to fly, to be anywhere but still and smiling. None of that shows. She is only smiling and waiting, accepting of whatever they might have to say.