05-25-2015, 06:30 PM
so you wanna play with magic?
Noticing things is Camrynn's specialty.
It's true of the world in general – she has a habit of picking up on history, picking apart the scraps of life lived, the tatters and shapes that every horse carries around with them. She has a habit of picking up on current events, confidential conversations spoiled by eavesdropping or by prying into the memories of all involved. It's a fascinating thing, and one that makes for quite the unfair advantage.
But of all the things she notices, of all the myriad things she chronicles, her favorite are things that can be useful to her.
She has an idea to create a team, a strike team, commandos in service only to her. She can't say what she'd use them for, or even why she wants them, only that she's certain she does. She could recruit almost anyone to her cause, if she wanted to. That's one of the benefits of magic – trick them, brainwash them, threaten them, she can always get her way. But with this little merry crew, that's not what she wants. She wants them to come willingly, to slip into service for their Dark Lady without hesitation.
She hasn’t decided quite what she's going to call herself yet. She'd decided early on that this whole affair was best conducted with her in disguise because, should anything ever go wrong, this cannot be traced back to the Deserts. If it were to fail (which Camrynn does not expect, but preparing for the unexpected is half the battle of success) the Deserts must be protected – which means that Camrynn must never be linked to it. She would be something as yet undefined, something that none of them could ever recognize. There would be no beans to spill – she'd be sure of it. And if they decided not to trust her, then so be it. They could either accept that she is exactly what she tells them and accept all the gifts that come with service to her, or they could decline. She doesn't need them, after all.
But oh, she does want them.
Far away, miles away, she considers Rhynn. The girl had been on her mind for some time, ever since she'd made her way back to Beqanna. She has everything that the black magician is looking for: power of her own, willingness to tamper with the lives of others, and above all a desire to do and be more than she currently is. The mare's mouth quirks up into the smallest of smiles as she watches the shadows lick at the hooves of those who walk past.
In a moment, the other horses disappear from the meadow. Where Rhynn's shadows had wrapped around their hooves, Camrynn fades into existence, starting with eyes the color of the sun and rippling in a matter of moments into a fully formed body. The effect is something like an opacity slider being pulled from max opacity to none.
And as she stands there, fully corporeal at last, she looks absolutely nothing like herself. She is white – pure white, none of this cream or grey nonsense –and seems to glow slightly, although whether the glow is white or clear or gold or black isn't clear. It's as though whenever you go to definitively determine the color, it shifts. There is no trace of the definitive markings that Camrynn would have; even the body type is entirely different. This creature is a powerful, well built warmblood, far more muscular than Camrynn's lithe form. Make no mistake, the Queen Illuminate is beautiful, but there'd be no mistaking her for Camrynn.
Yes, The Queen Illuminate. She's decided.
When she speaks, it is the voice of every horse, and no horse. Pinpointing what it sounds like is like trying to decide what color her glow is. It's simply impossible, by design. "There are always battles, Rhynn, wherever you go. And battles are often accompanied by wild powers. Beqanna is no different." her tone is serious, but she soon quirks her lips upward in an eerily gentle smile. "We just hide our wars and our wild powers a little better than most."
She chuckles then. "I've had an eye on you since you came back. I think you can do great things, Rhynn." She is entirely serious, her radiant sun-eyes on the Falabella. "But I'm getting ahead of myself. What brings you to this land? Why now?"
She waits patiently for a response, wondering if the little mare has already realized that the answer to her question was known long before she'd ever asked it.
It's true of the world in general – she has a habit of picking up on history, picking apart the scraps of life lived, the tatters and shapes that every horse carries around with them. She has a habit of picking up on current events, confidential conversations spoiled by eavesdropping or by prying into the memories of all involved. It's a fascinating thing, and one that makes for quite the unfair advantage.
But of all the things she notices, of all the myriad things she chronicles, her favorite are things that can be useful to her.
She has an idea to create a team, a strike team, commandos in service only to her. She can't say what she'd use them for, or even why she wants them, only that she's certain she does. She could recruit almost anyone to her cause, if she wanted to. That's one of the benefits of magic – trick them, brainwash them, threaten them, she can always get her way. But with this little merry crew, that's not what she wants. She wants them to come willingly, to slip into service for their Dark Lady without hesitation.
She hasn’t decided quite what she's going to call herself yet. She'd decided early on that this whole affair was best conducted with her in disguise because, should anything ever go wrong, this cannot be traced back to the Deserts. If it were to fail (which Camrynn does not expect, but preparing for the unexpected is half the battle of success) the Deserts must be protected – which means that Camrynn must never be linked to it. She would be something as yet undefined, something that none of them could ever recognize. There would be no beans to spill – she'd be sure of it. And if they decided not to trust her, then so be it. They could either accept that she is exactly what she tells them and accept all the gifts that come with service to her, or they could decline. She doesn't need them, after all.
But oh, she does want them.
Far away, miles away, she considers Rhynn. The girl had been on her mind for some time, ever since she'd made her way back to Beqanna. She has everything that the black magician is looking for: power of her own, willingness to tamper with the lives of others, and above all a desire to do and be more than she currently is. The mare's mouth quirks up into the smallest of smiles as she watches the shadows lick at the hooves of those who walk past.
In a moment, the other horses disappear from the meadow. Where Rhynn's shadows had wrapped around their hooves, Camrynn fades into existence, starting with eyes the color of the sun and rippling in a matter of moments into a fully formed body. The effect is something like an opacity slider being pulled from max opacity to none.
And as she stands there, fully corporeal at last, she looks absolutely nothing like herself. She is white – pure white, none of this cream or grey nonsense –and seems to glow slightly, although whether the glow is white or clear or gold or black isn't clear. It's as though whenever you go to definitively determine the color, it shifts. There is no trace of the definitive markings that Camrynn would have; even the body type is entirely different. This creature is a powerful, well built warmblood, far more muscular than Camrynn's lithe form. Make no mistake, the Queen Illuminate is beautiful, but there'd be no mistaking her for Camrynn.
Yes, The Queen Illuminate. She's decided.
When she speaks, it is the voice of every horse, and no horse. Pinpointing what it sounds like is like trying to decide what color her glow is. It's simply impossible, by design. "There are always battles, Rhynn, wherever you go. And battles are often accompanied by wild powers. Beqanna is no different." her tone is serious, but she soon quirks her lips upward in an eerily gentle smile. "We just hide our wars and our wild powers a little better than most."
She chuckles then. "I've had an eye on you since you came back. I think you can do great things, Rhynn." She is entirely serious, her radiant sun-eyes on the Falabella. "But I'm getting ahead of myself. What brings you to this land? Why now?"
She waits patiently for a response, wondering if the little mare has already realized that the answer to her question was known long before she'd ever asked it.
CAMRYNN
co-queen of the deserts, magical, mother of badassery