09-08-2018, 09:16 AM
Djinni has always appreciated gratitude (effervescent praise is preferable, but she will take what she is offered), and so when the amethyst eyed mare thanks her, the genie wishes away the worst of the aches. There will still be injuries - Djinni is not a healer, after all - but the most agonizing bits of them will be smoothed over, at least for a time.
The repetition of her statement brings a sudden grin to the rosey mare's face, delighted amusement that only grows when she sees Stillwater's visible distaste at his new hue. It is easier to see him bothered, flustered. The charm of him doesn't fade (she could have covered him with boils and that would still remain), but she looks away before she lingers too long on the still familiar curve of his shoulder and the deep blue of his eyes.
The story the mare has to tell - or rather, to not tell - is not especially thrilling. Still, there must be something more. Horses come to Beqanna with fair frequency, but to come covered in blood and without a memory of how it might have come about? For a moment she considers prying, digging deeper, but the thought is fleeting. The genie is not so flippant with her magic anymore, and she has grown (at least minutely) more respectful of other's privacy.
"You're in Beqanna now," Djinni tells her. Before she can add more, Stillwater is moving beside her, and her ears flick back briefly before she steps aside. Distance between them is better; that much she is sure of. There is too much danger in his touch, though his promise and use of a long-forsaken title give her something else to focus on.
"He means Sylva," Djinni says, her green gaze on Stillwater though she addresses the mare with the long name. "Where we ruled a long time ago." She pauses, frowns. "A very long time ago." Has he lost his memory too, she wonders? Forgotten that he left her alone in the woods with a young son and twins on the way?
"I could take you somewhere to rest," She offers to Agnieszka. She could wish her rested too, but too much magic often goes awry. It's easy to sprinkle more here, more there, and then wind up on the Mountain with a raging headache to remind her that she stretched too far. Djinni won't risk that again - not for something that time could mend just as well as magic.
@[Agnieszka]
@[Stillwater]
The repetition of her statement brings a sudden grin to the rosey mare's face, delighted amusement that only grows when she sees Stillwater's visible distaste at his new hue. It is easier to see him bothered, flustered. The charm of him doesn't fade (she could have covered him with boils and that would still remain), but she looks away before she lingers too long on the still familiar curve of his shoulder and the deep blue of his eyes.
The story the mare has to tell - or rather, to not tell - is not especially thrilling. Still, there must be something more. Horses come to Beqanna with fair frequency, but to come covered in blood and without a memory of how it might have come about? For a moment she considers prying, digging deeper, but the thought is fleeting. The genie is not so flippant with her magic anymore, and she has grown (at least minutely) more respectful of other's privacy.
"You're in Beqanna now," Djinni tells her. Before she can add more, Stillwater is moving beside her, and her ears flick back briefly before she steps aside. Distance between them is better; that much she is sure of. There is too much danger in his touch, though his promise and use of a long-forsaken title give her something else to focus on.
"He means Sylva," Djinni says, her green gaze on Stillwater though she addresses the mare with the long name. "Where we ruled a long time ago." She pauses, frowns. "A very long time ago." Has he lost his memory too, she wonders? Forgotten that he left her alone in the woods with a young son and twins on the way?
"I could take you somewhere to rest," She offers to Agnieszka. She could wish her rested too, but too much magic often goes awry. It's easy to sprinkle more here, more there, and then wind up on the Mountain with a raging headache to remind her that she stretched too far. Djinni won't risk that again - not for something that time could mend just as well as magic.
@[Agnieszka]
@[Stillwater]