03-06-2017, 02:20 PM
She watches, careful, and sees that the buckskin mare does not crumple under the news of her lost home. For a moment she had feared she might, that all would be lost to sadness and comfort, but the stranger rebounds, steps closer, stokes the fire. Mourning that which cannot be replaced would be futile, and while little could change Djinni's intentions, she is grateful that she does not need to offer a sympathetic shoulder.
Instead, it seems that the buckskin mare is looking for something more than a physical location; a search that Djinni knows all too well. "What was taken from you?" She asks as she comes closer, a hair's breadth only between them. "Not your wings, it seems." She says as she gestures toward the lovely feathers, "Something else?" Beqanna has left all of them with something, she knows, but the immortality that had replaced magic on her own blood was a poor substitute. She had struggled for too long without it, and has sworn she would not do so again.
It does not occur to her that lovely "Charlemagne" (She repeats the name, savors it) might have lost something of equal value. Even if it had, Djinni would not change. The allure of beguiling a magician would be, if anything, even sweeter. Djinni had almost caught a magician once before, but his eyes were too clouded by love to truly see her beauty, and she'd let him slip away. She prefers her prey willing, like Charlemagne seems to be. "I'm Djinni," she tells her softly, her voice barely audible were the two of them not so close. "What did you lose?" are the sounds her mouth makes, though 'I can make you forget the loss for a while,' are what she suspects Charlemagne might hear.
Instead, it seems that the buckskin mare is looking for something more than a physical location; a search that Djinni knows all too well. "What was taken from you?" She asks as she comes closer, a hair's breadth only between them. "Not your wings, it seems." She says as she gestures toward the lovely feathers, "Something else?" Beqanna has left all of them with something, she knows, but the immortality that had replaced magic on her own blood was a poor substitute. She had struggled for too long without it, and has sworn she would not do so again.
It does not occur to her that lovely "Charlemagne" (She repeats the name, savors it) might have lost something of equal value. Even if it had, Djinni would not change. The allure of beguiling a magician would be, if anything, even sweeter. Djinni had almost caught a magician once before, but his eyes were too clouded by love to truly see her beauty, and she'd let him slip away. She prefers her prey willing, like Charlemagne seems to be. "I'm Djinni," she tells her softly, her voice barely audible were the two of them not so close. "What did you lose?" are the sounds her mouth makes, though 'I can make you forget the loss for a while,' are what she suspects Charlemagne might hear.
D J I N N I
genie | rose gold tobiano dun | trickster