12-30-2019, 04:25 PM
sometimes we want what we want --
-- even if we know it’s going to kill us.
Here’s the secret, there is no source. Hunger like that cannot be satisfied. It is innate, it is consuming, and it is the beginning of true power. Not magic, but that hunger, that need.
She was powerful long before she was magical. Magic was reward.
“I can’t imagine you with a family that needed protection. If they needed it, you would have failed them already. To teach them to fend for themselves and to allow them to do so is success.” She has no idea where her children have gone. They have all flown the coup, as children do, leaving Beqanna in the wake of the Reckoning to seek other lives. She misses them, of course, as all mothers miss their children, but she does not worry for them. That is the difference. She loves them enough to let them fly.
Her grins turns to something else as he signs his life away in blood. It is ferocious, wild, and gleeful. She is something fearsome and beautiful in that moment, something alive and ready. The raven on her back, an impossibly silent statue through so much of this (ah, the wonders of magic), flaps it’s wings and disappears into the sky as if to seek something. He is a set of eyes for her, a scout to give her the lay of a land she know longer knows. “Come, show me where you call home and fill me in on the current politics. I am a bit behind.”
-- straia
the raven queen
@[Castile]