She's pretty terrible at recruiting lately.
She was good at it once, back in the days when she was willing to weave illusions, to bend and shape reality to seduce those who she felt would be good additions to the Deserts. But now it seems that she's lost the touch, or perhaps the patience. Certainly not the capacity; the earth still thrills at her touch, as though begging her to play with it, to pick it up and tell it where to go and what to be. Oh yes, she's still every inch the weaver of reality that she's always been. But now it's different.
She feels the newcomer as soon as the girl steps over the edge into the kingdom. Well, perhaps newcomer is the wrong word – the black mare can feel the history swirling around the girl, thick like a fog. She knows what it's like to have a legacy; goodness knows, Camrynn herself drags enough history to displace small passing birds. But she's intrigued.
The black queen feels the way the girl blossoms gently under the sun. Camrynn doesn't understand the concept of home, or of coming home; even now she doesn't necessarily identify with any one place, and she's rather known for doing some serious hopping about in her time. But she has never lacked for a purpose – perhaps truly for her, home is where her heart is, and her heart is in her own whims. She never lacks for purpose, because she considers everything she does to be purposeful. Even lolling about, lackadaisical as she is, she never feels as though she has lost purpose.
She probably should, but she really doesn't.
In front of the newcomer girl, the pink sands swirl gently. There is nothing threatening about it; rather, the sand becomes like a small cloud of insects, borne on some unseen force. Wafting like smoke, gently like mist, they congeal and disappear, forming into Camrynn instead. She is a beautiful creature, her black coat unbelievable in its perfection. There is no scarring, no white, just a smooth black expanse stretching over her well-formed muscles. A long mane and tail hang tangle-free and far longer than any normal wild horse's should.
Her eyes are teal today, bright and beautiful. Across her chest, the gold of the crook and flail stand out starkly, catching the Deserts sun. And across her one cheek, a trail of diamonds hangs like a strange equine necklace.
With Camrynn's appearance, an immediate change in temperature encases Exemplary. It's not a chill wind, just a cooling one, helping tone down the heat of the Deserts to a level that's more manageable. Still hot, but no longer unbearably so.
"Welcome to the Deserts. the black queen greets, her voice like the richest chocolate, the smoothest velvet. "What can we do for you, Miss…" she trails off, giving the girl a chance to introduce herself. Not that Camrynn needs her to – the name is as easy to pluck from her mind as the history. But that's just no fun; it's far better to get the story from the horse's mouth, if you will.
And then she waits, Smiling gently, entirely pleasant.
