06-06-2015, 10:49 PM
so you wanna play with magic?
"The Deserts are quiet. But so is much of Beqanna nowadays." she answers easily, her voice calm and unguarded. When it comes to magicians, the black mare has an almost unlimited amount of trust. It's a simple calculation, really; she tries to make a point of knowing as much as she possibly can about all the other kingdoms (and everything else that she considers in her interest to know) before she ever has to ask about it, and she simply assumes that other magic users do the same. So what does it matter what she tells him, because what of it couldn't simply be plucked from the memories of the other Deserts horses? Or even from her own memories? That is one of the (myriad) gifts of magic – the ability to reach into minds, to reach across time, to sift through collective memory and establish a narrative.
Silence drags between them for a moment, but Camrynn is entirely at her ease. She always is around magicians; they understand each other (or at least, she understands them) in a way that never seems to apply to horses without the gift. They are each of them miniature universes, impossible potential woven into every moment in a way that just cannot be grasped until you've lived it.
Although, as she looks at him, she wonders if Jason ever did grasp it quite like she does. He strikes her as far more similar to Yael, whereas Camrynn herself falls closer to Evrae or to Eight: capricious magic users, who push the boundaries of what's possible, who push the bounds of what's appropriate – who just plain push the bounds.
"What was it like, back at the beginning of Beqanna?" she asks, changing the topic completely. She's endlessly curious, and while she could answer the question herself, she's always interested to hear it described. She wants to know everything about him, naturally – how he got his magic, why he left, why he returned – but she also knows that they've got all the time in the world here. She's not an idiot, she can see that he doesn't trust her, and she also doesn't blame him for that. Trusting her usually ends badly, although magicians are one of the exceptions to that. She would never knowingly cross one of her own; she respects them too much, and being the baby of the 'magic family', so to speak, most of them could put her in her place with little more than a thought.
She wonders, idly, if he knows that either.
Perhaps she'll find out as their conversation progresses. She is relaxed as she waits for his answer, letting the unnaturally quieted meadow bathe them in silence and sunlight, idly shifting her weight and cocking the other hoof.
Silence drags between them for a moment, but Camrynn is entirely at her ease. She always is around magicians; they understand each other (or at least, she understands them) in a way that never seems to apply to horses without the gift. They are each of them miniature universes, impossible potential woven into every moment in a way that just cannot be grasped until you've lived it.
Although, as she looks at him, she wonders if Jason ever did grasp it quite like she does. He strikes her as far more similar to Yael, whereas Camrynn herself falls closer to Evrae or to Eight: capricious magic users, who push the boundaries of what's possible, who push the bounds of what's appropriate – who just plain push the bounds.
"What was it like, back at the beginning of Beqanna?" she asks, changing the topic completely. She's endlessly curious, and while she could answer the question herself, she's always interested to hear it described. She wants to know everything about him, naturally – how he got his magic, why he left, why he returned – but she also knows that they've got all the time in the world here. She's not an idiot, she can see that he doesn't trust her, and she also doesn't blame him for that. Trusting her usually ends badly, although magicians are one of the exceptions to that. She would never knowingly cross one of her own; she respects them too much, and being the baby of the 'magic family', so to speak, most of them could put her in her place with little more than a thought.
She wonders, idly, if he knows that either.
Perhaps she'll find out as their conversation progresses. She is relaxed as she waits for his answer, letting the unnaturally quieted meadow bathe them in silence and sunlight, idly shifting her weight and cocking the other hoof.
CAMRYNN
co-queen of the deserts, magical, mother of badassery