08-14-2015, 02:28 PM
so you wanna play with magic?
She feels him before he roars, of course. She feels everything that happens here, every shift of the sands around her, every whisper, every word. The Deserts become her, and she becomes the Deserts – it's a handy thing, really, the way they've blended over time.
And as soon as she feels him, she knows him. They'd faced off once in the meadow, and she can't help but smile at the memory. Something tells her that they are strange kindred spirits of sorts. He is perhaps more complicate d than her usual partners of mischief, but anyone willing to join her in a strange squirrel battle that had extreme destructive potential was, well, pretty okay in her book. She'd meant to find him after it, really she had, but life just gets so busy, y'know?
And now here he was, unknowingly depositing himself right on the outskirts of her land.
Roaring.
That'd probably scare some of them, to be sure, but it didn't scare her a bit. There isn't much that can accomplish that because fear comes only when you're threatened, and there isn't much in Beqanna that can threaten her. What is danger to a magician? There is nothing she cares about that cannot defend itself, and it would take a force greater than any known in Beqanna to assault her personally. Even if Eight, or Yael, or Pevensie were to be captured and used against her somehow (and yes, there are exactly three horses who could even possibly qualify for that), she wouldn’t break. She doesn't break. And because she doesn't break, she doesn't fear.
She sighs, basking in the summer heat of the Deserts as she weighs her options. She's going to approach the lion-horse Tarnished, she knows that, but she hasn't decided quite how yet. She's been trying to keep her magic a bit more in her pants lately, at least when it comes to approaching others. Wouldn't you know, they tend to get spooky and flighty when horses just kind of pop into existence next to them. But Tarnished is no normal horse; he's hanging out on the borders as a lion, she doesn't doubt he can handle a little excitement. And so, her choice becomes clear.
At a mere thought, she appears. As a black squirrel. On his nose.
She's sitting on the vaguely flat bridge of his lion-nose, quite comfortable. She'll stick to him no matter how he chooses to move his head; he won't throw her off, he won't dislodge her, and he damn sure won't be able to eat her. In her tiny squirrel hands she holds an acorn with a single bite out of it. It may or may not be the same acorn that they had once fought over in that tree. She hasn't decided yet.
Taking a huge bite, she chews it thoroughly, watching him the entire time. Would he recognize her? She wonders. Finished chewing, she swallows in the dramatic fashion of all squirrels and chipmunks and other rodents, who seem to have an almost anacondalike capacity to huck down things that are far larger than logic seems to dictate.
Finished eating, she offers him a squirrely grin. She's pretty (as squirrels go), shiny and black, a little creature in the prime of health. She's identical to her appearance that day they'd met in the meadow. And when she speaks, her voice is the same as it had been when she'd been running up the tree. "Why, hello again!" she chirps sweetly. "So good of you to come visit me."
And as soon as she feels him, she knows him. They'd faced off once in the meadow, and she can't help but smile at the memory. Something tells her that they are strange kindred spirits of sorts. He is perhaps more complicate d than her usual partners of mischief, but anyone willing to join her in a strange squirrel battle that had extreme destructive potential was, well, pretty okay in her book. She'd meant to find him after it, really she had, but life just gets so busy, y'know?
And now here he was, unknowingly depositing himself right on the outskirts of her land.
Roaring.
That'd probably scare some of them, to be sure, but it didn't scare her a bit. There isn't much that can accomplish that because fear comes only when you're threatened, and there isn't much in Beqanna that can threaten her. What is danger to a magician? There is nothing she cares about that cannot defend itself, and it would take a force greater than any known in Beqanna to assault her personally. Even if Eight, or Yael, or Pevensie were to be captured and used against her somehow (and yes, there are exactly three horses who could even possibly qualify for that), she wouldn’t break. She doesn't break. And because she doesn't break, she doesn't fear.
She sighs, basking in the summer heat of the Deserts as she weighs her options. She's going to approach the lion-horse Tarnished, she knows that, but she hasn't decided quite how yet. She's been trying to keep her magic a bit more in her pants lately, at least when it comes to approaching others. Wouldn't you know, they tend to get spooky and flighty when horses just kind of pop into existence next to them. But Tarnished is no normal horse; he's hanging out on the borders as a lion, she doesn't doubt he can handle a little excitement. And so, her choice becomes clear.
At a mere thought, she appears. As a black squirrel. On his nose.
She's sitting on the vaguely flat bridge of his lion-nose, quite comfortable. She'll stick to him no matter how he chooses to move his head; he won't throw her off, he won't dislodge her, and he damn sure won't be able to eat her. In her tiny squirrel hands she holds an acorn with a single bite out of it. It may or may not be the same acorn that they had once fought over in that tree. She hasn't decided yet.
Taking a huge bite, she chews it thoroughly, watching him the entire time. Would he recognize her? She wonders. Finished chewing, she swallows in the dramatic fashion of all squirrels and chipmunks and other rodents, who seem to have an almost anacondalike capacity to huck down things that are far larger than logic seems to dictate.
Finished eating, she offers him a squirrely grin. She's pretty (as squirrels go), shiny and black, a little creature in the prime of health. She's identical to her appearance that day they'd met in the meadow. And when she speaks, her voice is the same as it had been when she'd been running up the tree. "Why, hello again!" she chirps sweetly. "So good of you to come visit me."
CAMRYNN
co-queen of the deserts, magical, mother of badassery