for every tyrant, a tear for the vulnerable
in every lost soul, the bones of a miracle
“Happy to meet you, Lethy.”
Sometimes when others came here, they came from places like Beqanna, they knew about magic and strange abilities and the way a land and its god-creatures could change you. Kensa, like Lethy, had not known. So there is a an understanding that edges in alongside the worry in her features as the buckskin mare speaks. Lost, and confused, perhaps not quite happy or ready to have arrived in this strange new place. Kensa, who had wanted to come to Beqanna (had simply wished it, and arrived one day without knowing how) has encountered those every now and then who are sad or frightened to find themselves on this continent. She hopes she can be a good first meeting for them, a chance to see that whatever this place is there are those who welcome them without inhibition.
The sabino’s smile does not dampen shyly when Lethy says she’s never seen anyone like Kensa, for she is accustomed to her appearance drawing attention. She could laugh and say that there are much stranger markings and beings here than she, but she does not want to unnerve Lethy, and yet Kensa does not like to withhold information. “I found it different as well, when I came. I was not born here, and when I arrived as a girl I did not look as I do now.”
The Kensa who appeared in Beqanna at just barely three years of age had been an ordinary liver chestnut girl with tall white stockings and a wide blaze. Plain but joyful, eager to find her place her and explore this strange new land. Maybe this mare is more reserved than she is, but the Primarch hopes she will find a love for her new world as well. “I was a bit leaner too.” She says with another more amused smile, having noted the way the other’s aubergine eyes had passed over her rounded sides, her unborn child sleeping snugly albeit uncomfortably within her. “I’m from a place called Hyaline. In the mountains.” She adds as an afterthought.
@[Izora_Lethia]
