i've got some damn bad intentions - anyone

[Djinni]

Djinni shakes the sand from her hide, a remnant of her earlier morning swim. It falls to the ground beneath her, the grey grains blending with the billions of others. The dusky pink mare stands out against the dull background with her rose gold features and gilted wings, but she does not mind.

She has always enjoyed attention in any form.

Each day is spent in Nerine, and in the last few months the dun mare feels she must have explored every inch of the seaside kingdom. Her cave is still her favorite, a place scooped clean by thousands of waves, filled with a variety of treasures that she has gathered. The piebald mare has always been a bit of a magpie, and she has found that this settling down business comes with the unexpected perk of a place to store her collection long term. 

There aren't many other perks, so she does her best to enjoy what she can.

Walter crosses her mind, but she had left him only hours before in the dark of the night. Djinni has no true need of sleep, and while she enjoys the comfort of her lover beside her, there is no replacement for the sensation of the wind in her hair and sand beneath her feet.

[Nayl]

I am not afraid... I was born to do this.

Despite distance and time, Nayl thought their friendship could never falter; they fed from each other’s prowess years ago. Nerine had been an empire once, a feat that Nayl often thanked Djinni for. There was a power in this kingdom that they held in the palms of their hands until she, the quieting Queen, let it slip.

With her resignation, and Isobell’s ascension, Nayl hoped for her legacy to thrive, but instead, it fell. Her name became nothing, her memory just another fleck of sand on the beach. It took a large part of her to consider slipping out from the caves, to leave behind the comfort of Lior’s constant embrace to reinstate what influence she – and her family – had on the coastland. Perhaps wishful thinking, but it lured her from the depths of the caves.

It’s with a subdued eagerness that she prowls forward – her gait still confident after all this time – and takes a place at Djinni’s side. ”Hello, old friend,” her voice is a low purr as her eyes dance from the genie to the ocean nearby. ”I like the new look,” the rose gold is an elegant and interesting change from the grullo, ”but not much else has changed about you, has it?” An airy chuckle slips forward but is muffled by the crashing of the waves as she turns her head to look to the horizon, a sight she will never tire of.

”Nothing exciting has really changed in my absence, has it?” It’s a half rhetorical question. By the looks of Nerine, it is flooded with curiosity for a new Queen, but simmers in a way that the kingdom has for years, simply existing.

former queen of nerine
daughter of covet & myrina

[Djinni]

In her youth, Djinni had they sought relationships, hunted down connections that she thought might last the test of time. None of them had, of course, and that was the most important lesson she had ever learned. There remains only one thing that she has aways known, one thing that has been a part of her life before her life even began.

She walks the shores of Nerine, content with her own contentedness.

The gilt-tipped wings that she hold at her sides are fluffed out fully on this chilly late autumn morning, keeping the rose dun mare as warm as possible. She should have started growing a winter coat already, but Djinni has never loved the bulk, even when it is necessary. She will put that off until the last possible moment.

As a familiar black and white creature comes forward bearing questions, Djinni shrugs in response to most of them and extends a wing part way, offering a warm shield against the wind if Nayl were willing to accept. The dun mare doesn't expect her too; the Iron Queen has never been one to show weakness, not even to the weather. Still, Djinni does is, both out of affection and as a reminder that while time might have passed and many things changed, she still considers Nayl a dear friend.

"Brennen reinstated the Brotherhood over on Ischia," She says, watching the horizon where it has only just begun to glow with the hints of sunrise. "And I hear we're both to be congratulated. Ivar and Isobell have made us grandmothers."

It still seems strange to even be a mother; is she really old enough for that? It had taken her more than a half century to have a child, and now less than a decade and she is already a grandmother?! How long before great is added to her title? Will she live to see her own children die of old age? And then all of her descendants?

It is a morbid thought, and one that Djinni shakes away with a flick of her white tail.

"What do you make of the new regime?" She asks, turning her soft brown eyes from the water to to the black mare.