"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
Well! Wasn’t living just wonderful? Isilya was having a great time and her mother could barely keep up with her. Sometimes, Katniss just let the girl do what she wished - she wasn’t the sort of parent to hover, anyway. They had just shared a secret earlier today and Isilya felt as though she was bursting with love and joy - and it showed. Though she did not know why, she did not know how, but wherever she walked when she was in this good of a mood she left a trail of daisies behind her - brightly blossoming flowers that crowded in the lush Dale grass.
She just chalked it up to the magic of this place, of the mountains and the trees. She was too young to realize that the magic was coming from within her.
After the excitement of the morning, Isilya was on the hunt for a spot to nap. She found it before long, an isolated spot near a little pond. The young leaves of the birch trees rustled softly in the spring breeze, speaking nothing but warmth and love for the little vine-covered foal that sought a place to lie down.
Round in a circle she moved, three times, before picking her spot. Mother wouldn’t worry, Isilya would go find her again soon. After she napped - she looked forward to exploring more of the Dale and more of who her mother was.
Sleep came quickly to the little foal, as it does to all those that are at peace, with the butterflies being called to the daisies that still sprung up around her, weaving a bed of flowers for Beqanna’s newest magician.
She had been the newest, once. She hadn't much cared for it, and it was a title she had been glad to lose. She preferred seniority, to have the magical advantage that only age seems to confer. Because how else can power be decided amongst magicians? There is Carnage, with his murder and his theft of magic, his double dose of power so strong that he breaks apart worlds like some break bread. And then there are the rest of them, trailing at various distances in his dust, separated only by the ancientness of their magic.
Camrynn is a student of the ancient and a student of magic. In fact, she's a student of everything; knowledge is her driving passion, and it has an ironic tendency to drive her far past the edges of what others would consider reasonable. Her thirst for knowledge is what landed her on the Deserts throne. It's what makes her a born queen, a ruler capable of blossoming (and making a kingdom blossom) whatever throne she happened to sit.
And it's what made her notice the second a new magician was conceived.
She's been (gently, respectfully) following Isilya ever since the girl had been created. She'd felt it then, a delicate tug on her magic, as though a new link were being added to a vast chain. It's not that magic had been taken from her, or from any of the other magicians. It's more that they all felt connected somehow, and this was simply another step in the connection. And so she'd known then, and had been able to sense the power brewing in the girl, sleeping like a coiled pet snake – the kind that just looks adorable and precious, but also a little terrifying.
She has never doubted that she will approach the girl. It is her way to approach fellow magicians; she's already met more of them than perhaps anyone in recent memory. Eight, Evrae, Jason, Yael, and (soon) Errant - so many of them walk the earth, and so many of them are friends (or at least acquaintances) of the black illusionist queen of the Deserts. She hopes desperately to add Isilya to the list. Hope is not a familiar emotion for her; she is accustomed to knowing (or at least being pretty darn certain) of how most things will work out, and she's accustomed to playing every scenario to end in her favor. Only the magicians are immune. Only with them will she never disrespect, never touch what isn't hers to touch, never meddle.
And so it is that she is not meddling as she dozes in the Deserts. She is thinking of Isilya, but is not seeking the girl, not watching her as she's watched so many others. It isn't until she feels the girl's mind relax, feels the nascent power blooming from several kingdoms away, that Camrynn turns her attention in that direction. Isilya dreams, she can feel it on the edges of her own consciousness, and Camrynn gets an idea.
Perhaps the girl wouldn't mind having a little company.
Gently, ever so gently, Camrynn touches the girl's consciousness with her own. It is a tenuous, almost tender moment as the magician-queen seeks permission. Such is her respect for a fellow magician; anywhere else and she wouldn't even think to hesitate. Finding the girl receptive to a dream companion, Camrynn delicately pushes through into the dream world, moving as carefully as one moves through water while keeping the surface from rippling.
Here in the dream world, everything is beautiful. It looks like the Dale (the girl's imagination at work, she thinks) but it smells like heaven. The place is a riot of flowers and springtime creatures, ironically mirroring the relative riot of butterflies and daisies that make a bed for the girl in reality.
Camrynn looks almost out of place here, too dark against the springtime background. She would never dream of appearing in disguise before another magician, and so is completely herself. Black with no white markings, an elegant and lovely thoroughbred with a flowing mane and tail, a gold crook-and-flail gilded across her chest, a string of diamonds like a necklace across one cheek, and color changing eyes – for the moment fixed at a deep lilac-purple.
She inhales once, smelling the dream fragrance that fills the air around them. "Oh, how lovely." she says aloud, and her voice is light with enjoyment. She opens her eyes then, looking for the girl whose dream she's so gently invaded. The black mare smiles. Somewhere in the distance, a waterfall chimes gently, and a bird sings softly, a lullaby for paradise.
CAMRYNN
co-queen of the deserts, magical, mother of badassery
The deeper she fell into sleep, the slower the flowers grew around her as her mind turned to other things. They weaved a bed around her but she was existing in another world entirely, falling so completely in her dream the way young minds can.
Isilya often dreamed of others, though since she did not know many others it was usually her parents that entered her dreams. So finding someone else, this dark mare, was an new sensation and though she did not see her at first, the filly knew that someone else was in the dream. She felt the dream shift, pulling her toward another location, and she did not resist. Upon finding her, she saw that the mare was a drop of night in the brightness of the day and as beautiful as the stars that twinkled in the darkness. There was no fear in dreamland, though the young filly had so far proven to be fearless in life as well. She didn’t know that there were things to be feared, she only knew the beautiful and the joyful.
Her mind reacting to the presence of the dark mare in the bright dream, more dark animals come to join them - all beautiful and chittering happily with each other. Some bright-eyed ravens, a black lion, a dog with a few specks of purple throughout its coat. They do not approach the pair of horses, but they linger in the background with the darker flowers that begin to bloom - adding depth to the haven that was created. When she was older, if she remembered this dream, she would know that her subconscious was welcoming the dark mare with these little changes - accepting her into the dream and changing it just slightly so that she was a part of it and not an intruder.
But the young Isilya believed this to be a dream, nothing more, though that did not lessen her joy at company. “Hello there!” She called out, moving forward towards this new character in her dream, and pausing before her - her short, white tail flicking behind her as she happily looked up. “My name’s Isilya. You’re very beautiful... are you a fairy?” The earth spirits that existed in her mother's world were often in many different forms - she had seen what her mother could do and it did not seem so strange that this dream mare might be one of them as well.
But she was young, after all, and did not analyze it too much.
Camrynn is no child, but she too does not know fear. What is there to fear, when you are as they are? What is there to fear when you are eternal, when nothing (or, very few things) can harm you, let alone actually destroy you? Carnage could, perhaps, but Carnage can do virtually anything. Other magicians could, perhaps, if they banded together and focused on it with enough intensity. But what are the chances of that happening, in this world where so few magicians are really out for the common good?
But here in this place, in this secret garden of Isilya's mind, there is no need for fear. Camrynn would not dare harm a magician, much less a young magician like this girl.
The girl might not understand what she is, but she shapes the dream like a regular pro. Isilya comes, and upon seeing Camrynn she adjusts the dream to match. Camrynn marvels at the menagerie that the girl creates, smiling at the lion, the dog, all of them dream-creatures that come from the mind of one whose imagination is every inch as active as Camrynn's own. It's incredibly refreshing, and the black mare smiles – a genuine smile.
"Hello." her voice is velvet, soft, gentle, and warm as she returns Isilya's greeting. "My name's Camrynn." She replies, the smile still in place. This is the closest she's come to ever being truly maternal. Normally children are not her favorite, but already she feels a genuine affection for sweet Isilya. "You're very kind to call me beautiful, but I'm not a fairy." She smiles impishly then. "…although, I could be one, for a little bit."
And with a thought, she turns herself into a tiny fairy horse. She becomes a light shade of sunrise pink, her mane and tail a gradient of lavender and pink, adorned with sparkles and flowers. Her tail is the same, a cascade of matching flowers woven in. From her back two gauzy wings sprout, diaphanous and trailing sparkles as they flutter, lifting her gently off the ground.
Yes, she looks quite similar to the avatar photo that the Beqanna Fairy uses. Don't judge.
"You can be a fairy too." her voice is a delicate fairy's voice, high pitched but also impossibly kind. "We can both be anything we want to be. Especially here in dreams, but when we're awake too." She makes herself tiny then, no bigger than the size of a dragonfly, and buzzes over (trailing glitter as she goes) to perch delicately on Isilya's nose, tickling ever so slightly as she lands, defying the laws of gravity (if they applied here in the dream world) to stay there without sliding off.
CAMRYNN
co-queen of the deserts, magical, mother of badassery
