Like a Thorn To the Holy Ones (Djinni, Stillwater, karaugh)

[Nymphetamine]

Like a Thorn to the Holy Ones

His job was relatively simple, ask a relatively simple question, get a relatively simple answer and go home.  But it was in his ever so humble opinion that the simple tasks often ended up being more complicated. Maybe it's because a simple thing can be so easily taken for granted, and there for the entire thing goes off track. No matter the reason, he had no intention of falling into such lackadaisical thinking. But he had years of experience to pull from, experience from the days before the mountain, and he more importantly he knew better. 

The blood bay left Tephra with the morning sun. The steam from the volcano still billowing behind him as he left it to shrink in perceived size as his distance increased from him humid rocky home’s border. As he got further from home the temperature dropped at a steady rate. The bays short thin coat rose in attempt to insulated but he could feel the cold seeping into his skin. His muscles churned beneath him like pistols building heat from within before the cold of winter pulled it away. The more land the stallion covered the warmer he became.

Nymphetamine moved quickly, with a steadfast purpose, but he was sure to not look panicked or in a rush. It wouldn't do to send the gossip running through the territories of Tephra’s diplomats sprinting hastily through the lands. It was not the president he aimed to set.  So he carried himself smoothly across the flat lands of the field and around the dense tree line of the forest. Finally, he slowed as he crossed the river that lead to Sylva’s border. A cooler densely wooded land that was a splash of fall colors despite the winter chill that nipped his skin.

The bay showed to a halt at the forest’s edge,  respecting the lands rulers and residents. He rose his head and called for an emissary to meet him. Nymph waited patiently, a vision of confidence and in a sense nobility. He has a mischievous side but he was always sure when on diplomatic visits to keep it well tucked away. The cool air reached his skin more quickly as he stood waiting, internally he hopped someone came soon as he truly did hate being cold.

NYMPHETAMINE

OOC: Typed up on my phone... if there are weird typos blame Siri. Haha

[Djinni]

Time spent with her son has become less frequent as he grows older. When Djinni hears the call of from the edge of forest, she does not dismiss Ivar. Instead they come together, appearing in a soft shimmer of golden sand that fades before it can reach the forest floor. Still a few hundred meters from the caller, the pied horses make their way through the woods and an ambling walk. It is more for Djinni’s comfort than Ivar’s, for the grullo mare is encumbered by an impressively large pregnancy.

The surprising width of her bulging middle does not dim the friendly smile that she offers to the bay stallion, but her breathing is heavier than it might have been. Ivar, quiet and dark beside her, is unwinded. He is the peak of health and youth, offering a grin no less welcoming than his mother’s.

“Welcome to Sylva,” says Djinni, looking up to meet the taller stallion’s eyes. “I’m Djinni.”

“I’m Ivar,” adds the young stallion, bobbing his head in a polite greeting. He knows that he should probably stay quiet, and leave the dealings of politics to those more skilled at the art. Still, he has always been encouraged to be bold in all things – not only by Djinni, but by his father as well – and he hesitates for only a moment before he adds: “What brings you from Tephra today?”

Djinni doesn’t recognize this stallion, but as her son names the kingdom she recognizes the scent he carries on his coat. He is from the same land as Dahmer and Magnus. Over two years have passed since their visit, and she wonders how that volcanic land might have changed. Magnus had ruled it when they’d come, and she wonders if perhaps this stallion is here to tell them that he is the new king. Ivar had told her of his trip to the rainforest of Tephra, and of a bay stallion named Warrick. This is not him, she surmises from the way that Ivar greets him, so perhaps this is Offspring.

Ivar had been hoping that the bay visitor who smelled of Tephra would be Warrick as well, but he is not disappointed to see an unexpected face. It seems that the tropical land is well-populated, and he is genuinely curious what business they might want with his birthland.

[Nymphetamine]

Like a Thorn to the Holy Ones

He waited, but not for long, as it always seemed to be the case. A strong kingdom always had an eye on its borders. And in this case his presence was met with a dusting of taupes and browns that floated to the ground and seemed to disappear in a flicker of gentle light. And from it two came fourth just ahead of where he stood. A mare, mostly grey save a few white patches, she was pregnant, close to birth and a young lad, with similar colors and patterns as the first. They walked slowly towards him, the mare seemingly tiring from the efforts due to her condition. If this wasn’t the blood bay’s first time here he would have moved forward to meet them, but he knew doing so as a complete stranger might be viewed as a threat so he stayed, and waited for them to close the gap. His frame still and his heart beat a steady rhythm inside his chest, as they stopped before him, and spoke. That moment was always the most evident, the moment when the first greeting is given. It set the tone for the conversation, and even if end results weren’t favorable for one party or another if the talks start well they typically ended well. (Though that wasn’t always the case.)

The blood bay’s ears perked forward and he nodded as well to the two patched horses before him in greeting. His eyes fell first on the one who called herself Djinni as she introduced herself, and then to the young stallion as he spoke. His eyes widened slightly as he mentioned Tephra. Was he a telepath or other type psychic? He had not felt any foreign presence in his mind so he would be surprised if that was it, but Tephra did have a very distinct scent, so that was more than likely it.

”I am Nymphetamine it is nice to meet both of you. I would have come to you to save you the extra effort, but given this is our first meeting I didn't want tovstsrted it on the wrong foot by crossing the border uninvited….Yes I come from Tephra, Ivar, to introduce myself and to see how Sylva is fairing and inquire about your diplomatic standings.” I flick my eyes from Djinni to Ivar and back. He didn't know the mare personally but He knew the name from many who had travelled the lands. So Nymph knew she was a leader within these lands and would be able to talk to him about such diplomatic endeavors. He hoped to be able to bring back the information so Offspring could decide how he wished to move forward.

NYMPHETAMINE

[Djinni]

Djinni watches the surprise flicker across the bay horse’s face as her son names his kingdom before the visitor can. There’s a strange sensation that follows it, an odd sort of warmth and relational superiority.

Pride, she labels it. Maternal Pride.

Half a decade later and Djinni is still discovering new emotions.

The grullo mare has always known that her son was a wanderer. He’d begged for adventures throughout childhood. At first he was content with stories and wild tales, but too soon he wanted to take his own journeys. They’d let him, at far too young an age for Djinni. His father had seemed less concerned, certain about it all in that way that Djinni never understood. It seems that it had been the right choice after all, she thinks with a wry smile.

When they had arrived, Ivar had stopped scant inches farther back than Djinni had, his body language clearly signifying that she was leading the Sylvan half of this political conversation. Encoruaged by the warm smile that she gives him, the lanky young stallions step a bit closer, his shoulder brushing against his mother’s .

Djinni eyes are clouded for a moment as a frown crosses her face. “Ivar,” she says quietly and rather suddenly, “I have to go.”

“My mother has other business to attend to.” Ivar says, stepping forward. Behind him, Djinni has already disappeared into a cloud of golden sand.

“Sorry about that,” he adds with a smile. “She’s expecting twins any minute now.” And yes, of course that makes sense. Best to not be out in the open when she goes into labor. Best to find somewhere safe and leave the responsibility to Ivar.

The black and white stallion hesitates for a moment before speaking again. Nymphetamine had come with questions and Djinni truly was the one most qualified to speak to about them. She is not here though, Ivar reminds himself, this is his responsibility.

“Sylva is well,” he tells the older stallion. “Small,” he admits, “but stable.”

“As for diplomatic standings, we are doing well. This new Beqanna seems a calmer place than the Beqanna of my Mother’s stories.” The seemingly endless wars are little more than stories to young Ivar. He knows nothing of the way it feels to have generations of loyalty to a single realm in one bloodline, to know that a place is truly home. “What about Tephra? Is it still peaceful as well?” He almost asks about Warrick, how the other stallion is. Ivar had been rather fond of the man after their exploration of Tephra; he’d like to know he’s well.


OOC: so I have djinni already written as post birth and doing wonky timelines hurts my head, so I just decided to have her disappear from the convo to do that

[Karaugh]

A familiar scent clings in the air today.  Her sooted crown rises from the turf as her eyes scan the horizon.  Horns seated atop her skull twist as his voice calls out.  It is to familiar and grin creases her ebony lips.  

She is in no rush today.  Ebony legs move her frame steadily thru the thick forests of Sylva.  Bending and twisting through the tangle of bark and brush.  Her eyes see little in the short distances provided but his scent gives her a true path.  Leaves crunch underfoot creating the only sounds of her coming.  Scattered light filters through the canopies above, dancing across her gold and ash coat.  She wonders if he will recognize her even.  No longer the auburn and black child he'd remember her as.  

The others reach him before she does, she can hear them chatting.  Two are familiar and one is not, though she can about guess who it is.  The Prince of Sylva.  She wasn't naive enough to assume Stillwater has not created lineage with Djinni.  She is surprised there aren't more of the little bastards running about... yet.  Her ears swivel to catch tid bits of their discussion - politics - eh bore.  It was her promised duty to support the lands in political venues so the newcomer being blood was circumstantial.  Welcomed circumstance though.  

Soon a voice quiets within the group just as she breaks to view them.  A cloud of pixie dust engulfs the pied mare, leaving the young prince to carry on the conversation.  She halts to observe the trio become a duo.  Dark eyes view the blood bay.  He looks as he always has, not aging a day. She has aged though.  She has also magically changed colors.  Would he put it all together though?

Beginning her stride again she sets her destination to the side of the colts.  Coming up behind him but facing the bay.  Surely that was the more important one to know of her advance, if the other should not realize her approaching.  "Sorry I'm late," her voice breaks into their conversation.  Lacking consideration and formalities, per usual.  If that hadn't given her identity away nothing would...

 

Karaugh

illicit daughter of nymphetamine and killgore

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