bottom of the deep blue sea; wishbone/any

[Isobell]

bottom of the deep blue sea

She walks between the crags with keen familiarity. The kelpie queen had given Nerine up when she had chosen the side of Ivar than to pursue her hold on the crown. She wonders if her mother was disappointed in her daughter, a shame to the iron queen before her.

The pied woman has come to seek a council with Wishbone (yet other new queen) since the passing of the dark mare, Hestia. In tow, a leggy yearling is behind the svelte form of Isobell, picking her way rather ungracefully over the loose silt and soil. "Iso, slow down!" The whine of the girl's voice is grating and she knows it as she follows her sister but Isobell would not be gentle upon the young girl. Mist needed guidance, she needed the time invested in her to mold her to a greatness that she was capable of achieving. Isobell was off with Ivar and journeyed with him ceaselessly (the newborn foaols carefully kept with the mane while Isobell made her way to her former home).

A call is offered after a few more moments of travel, the belly of Nerine exposed at once (Isobell knew all the secrets of the salted land). Silver eyes are looking for movement as she waits for the new queen with her own head tall. Mist stands behind her with hopeless confusion and frustrated snorts.

(( Kuna! I wanted to plop Mist in Nerine since Isobell is busy being with Ivar and I want Mist to get to know the kingdom that her mother and sister both ruled plus I may have Iso pop in from time to time. Would Wishbone mind shaping the yearling and making her into a strong woman?))

[Ardashir]

Ardashir

The voice reached ears but maybe not the ones that the once queen had hoped for. The ivory stag lifted his head and let a snort pass his pink nostrils. He knew that voice. His ears pinned a moment thinking back on those short moments when the Kelpie queen had led them all. Ardashir did not know her reasons for leaving, and so he was better off not judging the lady.


He moved to the voice that had called for Wishbone. He turned his neck looking to the bay mare, “ You wanted an adventure it looks like you have found one.” Arashir kicked up the pace a little to keep Isobell from waiting long. The sight of the one queen made him at least bow his head slightly low as he approached and, he took note of the yearling with her.

“ Greetings to you Isobell, and your charge.” He had stopped a proper distance from the two mares. He did not like to invade personal space, and could only assume that others liked it just the same. “ What brings you here?” He asked though he was not sure he should have been the one to. He looked between the two of them as he waited.

The blue in an ocean of gray..

( Hope it is ok that I sort of carried over the story from our other post. *rubs back of head*)

[Scorch]

WATCH THE FLAMES CLIMB HIGH INTO THE NIGHT

Well, it is to be expected that absent once-queens would forget some of the going-ons that they miss; Scorch has been one herself, and frankly, she too has barely the slightest clue about Isobell. She was the queen before Hestia, the one whose coronation took place the day of Scorch's return to kingdomhood and political Beqanna; but more than that, Scorch knows next to nothing about the piebald.

So when she calls, the rat goes to answer.

She is not the first to respond, instead trailing just behind a crystalline warrior she recognizes vaguely as Ardashir, another half-absent figure in Nerine's shimmering upholstery. Half-absent, but also somehow always constant; she hadn't known a day in this land without his scent marking some stone somewhere in its depths. Sidling up, she nickers under her breath to the taller, broader stallion, before turning to face the one whose call so interested her: Isobell, and a small girl in tow to boot.

"I don't believe we met," Came her gruff, fire-charred voice, complimentary to her crispy appearance. Her keen red-yellow eyes flashed to the once-queen. "My name is Scorch; I apprenticed Wishbone in the wake of Queen Hestia's death, and now serve as her majesty's Advisor." It had been Wishbone that the piebald called for, so the offered information ought to make sense.

"Anything you have to say to her, you may confidently say to me, too."

Scorch

Once Khaleesi of the Amazon Jungle

[Ardashir]

Ardashir

Another presence made itself known as the small group had gathered. Ard turned his head a moment to look at the hairless mare. Scorch Her name came to his mind and she had another name at one point Queen . The time worn mare had led the ladies and some of the gentleman of Nerine for a time. He had to think a quick moment that it must have been after the passing of the ebony queen. Scorch spoke to Isobell and the filly that had come with her.


He noted how she greeted the once queen and he flicked his ears a couple times before offering that silver voice to the group once more, “ Well. If we are all being so formal today. I am Ardashir orphan son, and champion of Nerine. I serve as protector to our Queen.” He did not bow his head but, he did not hike it up in any manner that might make them think he was a snob. Ardashir was anything but. He would protect this land and his queen, and those that served her. He scented the air a moment taking in all of the perfumes of those gathered here. The sea salt was still heavy on the tabino mare and, there was a hint of a male on her as well. He could only guess the name Ivar..


The porcelain stag stood in place like a statue. He was still very much a child before these two once queens. He looked to the younger of the group the mare that had come with Isobell, “ What is your story? He asked and flicked his ears forward to listen.

The blue in an ocean of gray..

[Wishbone]

she’s got jumper cable lips
she’s got sunset on her breath. now i inhaled just a little bit, now i’ve got no fear of death

A cloud of gray warmth forms in front of Wishbone’s sable mouth when she moves to smile at Ardashir. With winter fast approaching Nerine, their days have become chilly and their nights chillier still. Although the bitterness of the season provides a certain rustic beauty to the northern kingdom (snow-dipped cliffs and frozen ice chips among sand and frost-tipped beach grass), Wishbone can’t help but dream of the humid warmth of Tephra and the pulsating comfort of the volcano.

“I was expecting something a little more dangerous.” The mahogany Khaleesi tosses a wink in Ardashir’s direction as they begin to move across the landscape. The ivory stallion has quickly become a close friend and his promotion to Najahak was no mistake. His dedication to Nerine and her queen has been proven throughout their conversations and Wishbone is pleased to have him accompany her on this particular task.

The queen’s sunset eyes scan over the tobiano mare as they come to a halt, grass crunching underfoot from the chill of the air. Another smile, spiced with flavors of curiosity, dances across Wishbone’s svelte mouth. Before she can say anything, Ardashir speaks to the newcomer and her agitated youngster — the mahogany’s eyes are somewhat more piercing when they hear of the stranger’s name. A scent (familiar and musky, bringing memories of frequent nights) winds along Isobell’s skin alongside her own and Wishbone feels the warmth of amusement blossom in her stomach.

Nonetheless, her joviality at this personal discovery doesn’t shine into her facial expression or voice as she speaks. “Welcome back to Nerine, Isobell.” Her parents spent time teaching her the manners and etiquette a princess should have and Scorch even dedicated a few training sessions to the history of Nerine. She’s heard Isobell’s name before, though only in history lessons and subtly from the mouth of a particular kelpie stallion.

The gruffness of a familiar voice reaches Wishbone’s ears and her lithe head turns to spot Scorch’s approach. Curiosity is flourishing in the queen’s stomach, so she offers only a warm nod of her head toward her Dosh rather than a true, blazing smile like she traditionally might do. Ardashir flows well into the conversation, introducing himself with the same flaw as Scorch, but the mahogany mare’s gaze pinpoints Isobell and the yearling trailing behind her.

Finally, she has a moment to speak again. “I’m Wishbone and I believe I’m the one you seek.” Judging by the way Isobell carries herself, she is the caretaker of the filly. Yet Wishbone has never been one to doubt the ways of the young, having flourished and grown rapidly in her youth herself, so her amber eyes slide easily away from the tobiano’s face toward the child. “And who might you be?”

wishbone

@[Isobell] / @[Ardashir] / @[Scorch] / sorry i'm so late! we can just pretend she was here the whole time :/ also, of course she's willing to bring her into nerine... please let me know what caste system you would like mist in. drom, i altered the timeline a little bit, but we can just say they were hanging out together, haha.