07-02-2015, 01:26 PM
Instead of travelling to the Tundra, where she might he to see Rigdon, Yael sends Gaza instead. He should meet his headstrong half-brother and explore the world for himself. She would rather stay within the sandy Kingdom and sleep.
Yael is tired, Oh so tired, and the combination of the shade of Van’s tree and a crisp(er) wind from the North an hour after sunset lulls her into a deep sleep. A sleep that consumes her and sends her dreaming across Beqanna. She follows the wind paths and the sun rays and the water droplets as they burst on razor-sharp blades of grass. She freezes and burns and is covered in sand.
Yael slumbers in sweet oblivion, as many a magician has done before her. The world is all at once too much, and not enough; and so she must retreat.
Until there is a tingling at the tip of her nose and a tickle in her hindquarters as the magic that she is tied to inexplicably to shifts and changes. For a moment, it’s as if something is missing in her soul and then it is replaced - different, but still there. Her eyes fly open, and she finds herself buried in sand; the golden sands surrounded their golden protector and drew her under its dunes, until she felt the need to wake again. A light smile, touches her lips in thanks - but she cannot linger long in thought about it. An invisible vacuum sucks away the grains and she emerges, just like she was a couple of months or a year or so ago (what time has passed, and how much has happened?). Curious, Yael melts her body into the wind and seeks out Cam, surmising that she has probably been neglectful of her Advisor/Ambassador duties and should rectify that.
However, when she finds the black mare, it is at a new oasis that brims with concentrated Desert power and Cam’s countenance is hesitant, even worried. She is sure the woman can feel her and makes no move to hide herself - Pevensie, however, may not be able to feel her, and so she joins Cam in waiting on bated breath for Pev’s response.
Yael however, waits for a different reason; she knows there is something else to Cam, and she doesn’t trust her to rule alone. It’s something she’s held in the very depths of herself - under lock and key and three levels of shields. Don’t ask her why. It’s just the way Yael is.
Yael is tired, Oh so tired, and the combination of the shade of Van’s tree and a crisp(er) wind from the North an hour after sunset lulls her into a deep sleep. A sleep that consumes her and sends her dreaming across Beqanna. She follows the wind paths and the sun rays and the water droplets as they burst on razor-sharp blades of grass. She freezes and burns and is covered in sand.
Yael slumbers in sweet oblivion, as many a magician has done before her. The world is all at once too much, and not enough; and so she must retreat.
Until there is a tingling at the tip of her nose and a tickle in her hindquarters as the magic that she is tied to inexplicably to shifts and changes. For a moment, it’s as if something is missing in her soul and then it is replaced - different, but still there. Her eyes fly open, and she finds herself buried in sand; the golden sands surrounded their golden protector and drew her under its dunes, until she felt the need to wake again. A light smile, touches her lips in thanks - but she cannot linger long in thought about it. An invisible vacuum sucks away the grains and she emerges, just like she was a couple of months or a year or so ago (what time has passed, and how much has happened?). Curious, Yael melts her body into the wind and seeks out Cam, surmising that she has probably been neglectful of her Advisor/Ambassador duties and should rectify that.
However, when she finds the black mare, it is at a new oasis that brims with concentrated Desert power and Cam’s countenance is hesitant, even worried. She is sure the woman can feel her and makes no move to hide herself - Pevensie, however, may not be able to feel her, and so she joins Cam in waiting on bated breath for Pev’s response.
Yael however, waits for a different reason; she knows there is something else to Cam, and she doesn’t trust her to rule alone. It’s something she’s held in the very depths of herself - under lock and key and three levels of shields. Don’t ask her why. It’s just the way Yael is.
Yael, guardian of the desert