you're the beacon / solace, any - diplomatic visit

[wound]

T he silence that builds between them momentarily does not make Wound uncomfortable. She’s sure the situation might be difficult for Solace to swallow, or at least it gives her something to chew on. She takes the moment to evaluate the scenery of Hyaline with a casual eye, this time noting the swell of the mountains and scent of lake-water on the autumn breeze. Solace seems to fit in well with the kingdom’s aesthetic and even the simple way she moves tells Wound that she is comfortable being here. The silvery mare turns her attention back toward the queen as she begins speaking of Hyaline’s history. Wound is quiet as Solace muses aloud, noting the way her voice seems to speak as though she were lost in her mind. Wishbone prances along beside Kagerus in the meantime, even doing tightly-knit circles around bushes that spring up just past the group’s trail. Wound is content to hear the queen’s reasoning behind her political views. It’s understandable thinking, especially considering Hyaline’s reputation as a sanctuary. The Tephran diplomat supposes she could find herself content here, though more in the way someone of age might retire to a getaway destination. The lifestyle of this kingdom seems quiet and comfortable, but Wound wouldn’t dare mention how she sees it as the place of her elderly retreat in the future. “I’m glad to know you won’t stand for being taken advantage of.” Her voice is warm, eyes glancing out toward the lake in the nearing distance. “Tephra plans to form alliances with Sylva and Ischia,” she admits. Beqanna’s political world is at peace for now, with alliances in formation and everyone resting easy at night. Something tells Wound it won’t stay that way for very long (history has a tendency to repeat itself) but there are no foreseeable rough waters at this point. As Kagerus replies to Wishbone, the filly’s gaze lands on the mentioned mountains. She pictures herself climbing them already, reaching the highest peaks like a graceful mountain goat or perhaps soaring through the sky like a predatory hawk. “I would love to come here again and climb those mountains.” Her voice is an awed hush, caught up in the picture playing through her mind. The sound of pounding hoofbeats draws her away from her daydreaming. A golden stallion covered in lake-matter is barreling down on them and Wishbone’s heart skitters to the beat of his feet. Wound’s gaze pulls away from Solace’s to glance over at the newcomer. He is a kindred spirit to the queen, though their colorings differ slightly. She chalks it up to another of Warrick’s children (though she wasn’t aware of Solace’s twin) and offers the stallion a warm smile over Solace’s shoulder. “I’m Wound, a diplomat from Tephra. And this is” — before she can reply Wishbone is twisting from the back of the group to come around the front, nose poking against Svedka’s belly and chest. Her sable nose stains a darker shade as the lake-water douses her, but she gives her own reply to Wound’s introduction. “I’m Wishbone! Where’d you come from? You smell good!”

credit to nat of adoxography.