04-19-2018, 09:51 AM
I have spent most of my time in the center of the kingdom, sheltering in the thick brush that edges the infrequent meadows. There is little to do in this quiet kingdom, and I have found that keeping to myself is preferable to interacting with the odd sort of equines that call this place home. I'm not yet sure if I'd call them evil, though I've certainly begun to suspect that they are more than a bit unbalanced.
This autumn morning though, something is in the air. Perhaps its the crisp of the oncoming winter or that way that all of Beqanna has shifted to match the copper and gold hue of Sylva's canopy. I've been awake since dawn, and as I begin to pick my way through the shadowy forest, the last hints of sleepines leaves my blue grey eyes.
I am not wandering long before I come across an unfamiliar scent, and I fall still lest the stranger spot me before I locate them.
There, through the trees - a pair of horses. The closest is a black stallion, his mane and tail streaked with bronze. Beside him is a spotted bay mare, equally accented in her unnaturally purple spots. They make me feel a bit less conspicuous with my own navy markings, and so I step out to meet them.
They've not called for anyone, but they are not Sylvan, and so I can only assume they are diplomats. I'm unsure from which land they hail, but I offer them a friendly smile anyway, and a small dip of my head. Old habits die hard (especially when I've made no attempt at all to quash them) and my bearing is that of the young queen I was and not the captive gift that I have so recently become.
"Hello," I say, glancing from one to the other. "What brings you to Sylva?"
This autumn morning though, something is in the air. Perhaps its the crisp of the oncoming winter or that way that all of Beqanna has shifted to match the copper and gold hue of Sylva's canopy. I've been awake since dawn, and as I begin to pick my way through the shadowy forest, the last hints of sleepines leaves my blue grey eyes.
I am not wandering long before I come across an unfamiliar scent, and I fall still lest the stranger spot me before I locate them.
There, through the trees - a pair of horses. The closest is a black stallion, his mane and tail streaked with bronze. Beside him is a spotted bay mare, equally accented in her unnaturally purple spots. They make me feel a bit less conspicuous with my own navy markings, and so I step out to meet them.
They've not called for anyone, but they are not Sylvan, and so I can only assume they are diplomats. I'm unsure from which land they hail, but I offer them a friendly smile anyway, and a small dip of my head. Old habits die hard (especially when I've made no attempt at all to quash them) and my bearing is that of the young queen I was and not the captive gift that I have so recently become.
"Hello," I say, glancing from one to the other. "What brings you to Sylva?"
