City
The pale mare can hear the granules of wet sand shift under the weight of the Queen’s approach. Her sulfur eyes are hardened on the grayness hanging above the shallow curling waves tumbling toward her feet. She bends the closest freckled ear to the piebald as her name rumbles off of her sharp tongue. City’s gaze finds hers as the request, the suggestion of a demand, so thoughtfully carves from her lips. A question to sum it up, but with the inquiry the gray woman looks back to the toiling sea and the coming gray drizzle floating in.
After some pause, she smirks and still doesn’t meet Nayl’s eyes while she speaks. “Are you, though, Nayl?” The burning yellow of her eyes roll to find the fiery blaze of the Queen’s. For some reason her heart accelerates when she finds herself locked into eye contact, a sweat wants to gather subtly beneath her milky forelock but the chill keeps it away. It is an odd and almost flustering rush of excitement, or nervousness, or something of the mix. It is ignored easily enough and after a brief inhale to calm herself she continues, her stony voice melds with the crashing of saltwater. “If we’re going to build and sustain ourselves as a Beqanna Kingdom should be, then yes, I can rise to such an occasion.” She acts a bit annoyed, but the truth is she’s a bit honored to be the Queen’s last resort. Surely to admit so would never happen, but the feeling is in there somewhere behind the bones of her enemies and cobwebbed emotions.
“We’re in tatters, Queen.” She is softer with this, her eyes still leveled with Nayl’s if she has not looked away by now. “But we can build, recruit and train, as many Queens before you have done.” The rain begins now, swallowing an early morning and making it all one shade of dismal gray with a slick layer of sheen. The winds will pick up soon, the rain’s force will come down heavier and this is what the rust-shouldered mare came for originally. “My first thought is to gather what women we can and whatever captives, gladiators and train them.” She breathes, casting her eyes back to the sea, beads of rain dripping from her long white lashes and down her cheeks to wash away whatever blood trail was left before (from stigmata of the eyes). “The firsts we must train ourselves I suspect – where are Tantalize and Heartfire?” She says this last part low, thinking aloud as she stares into the vast mists that have devoured the horizon and allow only fifty feet or so of rocky sea to be seen.
rushed and filled with all I found
more, give me more, give me more
@[Nayl] <3
