so you wanna play with magic?
She's never been shy about disappearing. Of course, she's never entirely gone for long; it's just her way to weave in and out of things, like a needle through thread. But if she's the needle, she is also the thread, and the seamstress, and the fabric – she is everything, everywhere, at all times. It is her fate, to have a terminal, omnipotent understanding. And if she were anything more humble, perhaps it would be a bother to her.
But she isn't. She is Camrynn, the antithesis of everything that is humility. She wears everything about her like a badge of pride, stripped naked only before those she knows to equal or surpass her own powers. And that is truly her secret: she is never overwhelmed because she takes it all in stride, never doubting her extreme capacity to handle it.
And so it is that she stands on the sands, listening to the stories that this knowledge brings her. Since sharpening her focus on the Deserts, she can't help but notice a certain horse who's been making quite the name for himself. Mind you, she also couldn't help but notice him because of the way he stuck out in a certain half-aunt's mind (is that what Valkerine would be? Half-aunt? Her father's half sister. Who knows). She'd tucked the both of them away secretly, the two half-sisters who still didn't know what their relationship was. They were now just gently out of reach of anyone but those with magic, tucked somewhere where they'd never bother her, and never be bothered. In a freezer, if you will, like end of summer basil, frozen for possible needs during winter.
Creepy, right?
Creepy, but also secret. She can feel the two of them if she just reaches out with her mind, delicately brushing against the two of them like a butterfly's wing. They may be stopped in time, but she hasn't been cruel to them. Out there in the nothingness, they dream. Aletheia's dreams are of friends and family, of love and touching. Valkerine's dreams are of life in the Amazons, and Shahrizai always features prominently. Ironic, she thinks, knowing that the stallion has in fact settled in her own lands, here in the Deserts.
And then of course there's the third one. But the third one doesn't dream like the other two. The third one is…well, different.
Shifting smoothly from her reverie (or brief telepathic touchstone, or what have you), she appears beside the stallion. Of course he wouldn't know that she knows (and is more or less holding captive) one of Librette's twins, in the same way he wouldn't know that she killed Librette. And she isn't about to let it show on her face; she looks the same as always, a small, wry smile playing with her pretty lips, her face every inch as lovely as it always is. She is a vision, entirely black with no natural markings and a long mane and tail, unnaturally free of tangles. Across her chest the crook and flail of the Deserts crown stand in stark contrast to the black of her coat, gilded and shining. Across her cheek a trail of precious stones hangs like a necklace. And her eyes – today (or at least, for the moment) they're a rich gold.
"Shahrizai," she greets with a nod, pulling no punches. "Your hard work on behalf of the Deserts has not gone unnoticed and is to be commended." she speaks sincerely; she is many things, but even she values hard work. "I'm Camrynn, the less absent of your two absentee queens." she says the last with a distinct hint of humor, poking fun at both herself and Pevensie. And god knows, they deserve it.
But she isn't. She is Camrynn, the antithesis of everything that is humility. She wears everything about her like a badge of pride, stripped naked only before those she knows to equal or surpass her own powers. And that is truly her secret: she is never overwhelmed because she takes it all in stride, never doubting her extreme capacity to handle it.
And so it is that she stands on the sands, listening to the stories that this knowledge brings her. Since sharpening her focus on the Deserts, she can't help but notice a certain horse who's been making quite the name for himself. Mind you, she also couldn't help but notice him because of the way he stuck out in a certain half-aunt's mind (is that what Valkerine would be? Half-aunt? Her father's half sister. Who knows). She'd tucked the both of them away secretly, the two half-sisters who still didn't know what their relationship was. They were now just gently out of reach of anyone but those with magic, tucked somewhere where they'd never bother her, and never be bothered. In a freezer, if you will, like end of summer basil, frozen for possible needs during winter.
Creepy, right?
Creepy, but also secret. She can feel the two of them if she just reaches out with her mind, delicately brushing against the two of them like a butterfly's wing. They may be stopped in time, but she hasn't been cruel to them. Out there in the nothingness, they dream. Aletheia's dreams are of friends and family, of love and touching. Valkerine's dreams are of life in the Amazons, and Shahrizai always features prominently. Ironic, she thinks, knowing that the stallion has in fact settled in her own lands, here in the Deserts.
And then of course there's the third one. But the third one doesn't dream like the other two. The third one is…well, different.
Shifting smoothly from her reverie (or brief telepathic touchstone, or what have you), she appears beside the stallion. Of course he wouldn't know that she knows (and is more or less holding captive) one of Librette's twins, in the same way he wouldn't know that she killed Librette. And she isn't about to let it show on her face; she looks the same as always, a small, wry smile playing with her pretty lips, her face every inch as lovely as it always is. She is a vision, entirely black with no natural markings and a long mane and tail, unnaturally free of tangles. Across her chest the crook and flail of the Deserts crown stand in stark contrast to the black of her coat, gilded and shining. Across her cheek a trail of precious stones hangs like a necklace. And her eyes – today (or at least, for the moment) they're a rich gold.
"Shahrizai," she greets with a nod, pulling no punches. "Your hard work on behalf of the Deserts has not gone unnoticed and is to be commended." she speaks sincerely; she is many things, but even she values hard work. "I'm Camrynn, the less absent of your two absentee queens." she says the last with a distinct hint of humor, poking fun at both herself and Pevensie. And god knows, they deserve it.
CAMRYNN
co-queen of the deserts, magical, mother of badassery
@[insane]