drink thy poison lightly; any [deserts competition meet & greet]

[Engelsfors]

Drink thy poison lightly dear, ♦♢♦ The confines of the pines, their lofty guardianship, it was home and it was a comfort, yet every now and again it was good to stretch out from the darkened bowels of the forest, and see more of Beqanna. Compared to many in this world, I am still quite fresh, new to the ideas and the topography. But I adapt well, and come dawn's first light I break through the canopies at a steady canter, my hooves crunching the crisp early morning frost on the moist leaves below. Long appendages carry me across the fields, the plains, the shadows and the naked forests of Beqanna. Spring is here, I can smell the touch of mother nature, she's already budding blooms and starting to sprout grass beneath my feet; this is al fanciful and just, but my eyes are focused on my goal. The Deserts. A strangely exotic sounding place, it both intrigued me and allured me. Of course, I am freshly touched upon this land, and every few hours I have to stop and decide if I am going the right way or not; I'm sure Killdare will growl, being such an expert, he'd ridicule me in a heartbeat. At that thought a chuckle slips my lips; they are dry, parched almost. The trek is tolling on me, but my form is lithe, light and agile as I weave through the spindles of tree trunks and brush, to finally reach the borders. The rolling sands are arid, and my first inhalation is met with grains of sand. I snort, shaking my crown vigorously. My pace does not alter, still a steady canter that swallows the ground, much harder than the moist earth of the chamber, or the field. my hooves sink, down to my fetlocks, I pull and push and my canter slows right down to barely faster than a jog. Perspiration mars my skin, patches beneath my mane and rolls down in fine rivulets down by shoulders. It is warm here, pleasantly so. The tangerine rays beam down and grace me with a warm glow, the touch spans my very essence and just adds to the exertion of the journey. My pace drops, back to a sturdy walk, I find it easier now, my hooves still sink but the strange pull against my tendons has become numbingly comfortable. Azure eyes scan the horizon, drinking in the oasis, the dunes that go on and on and on. That's when I catch a glimpse, faint at first, shimmering in the light. My eyes adjust to the heat, the sizzle that comes from the sand and blurs my vision. I'm not seeing things, it is there, a sturdy oak, placed within the deserts, as noticeable as a a brown leaf on a tree of viridian green. That is my destination, and it takes my ground swallowing canter to get me there. It's thick bark is course, and the smell of wood makes me feel at home; of course the menthol pine and ash has become engrained within me, and nowhere will be as comfortable now as the Chamber. My eyes scan the tree, head tilting left, head tilting right. It seems so out of place, so strange. But then there are a lot of things in Beqanna that are strange. this realm pulses with magic, a life that beats all on another level. I stand there idling, just gazing up at the tree, it's leaves full of life and luscious beneath the sizzling heat of the sun. I inch closer, extending out my muzzle, breathing in the foreign scents, the pulse of something entirely different. It reminds me of the heart that pounds gently beneath my feet in the Chamber. Is every kingdom in Beqanna alive, like, truly alive beneath? That thought somehow unnerves me, and my eyes drop to the sands beneath my feet. Truly, alive... ♦♢♦ there are deeper and darker things than you; professor of the chamber

html by magpie77 - photo manip by beequeen - character by magpie77

OOC: Someone pass the sunscreen, my palomino precious will burn xD

[Pevensie]

Van's garden. One of the few places on the fiery expanse to yield shelter, to protect and savour the tints of green so lacking elsewhere across the Empty Quarter. She rests here peacefully with her daughter, sheltering her child from the harsh rays of the sun. It is cooler here, with the shade above and the idea that plants can survive. Whether that provides any real relief from the heat or just a psychological deterrent, she has not quite decided... nevertheless, this is one of her favourite places.

Little Ket nurses peacefully and Pevensie scans the horizon. She notices a flash of golden between the outlines of the trunks, stomping her foot to let her daughter know that she has fed enough. A lazy walk brings her closer to the smell of equine, moving about the garden. This pace allows for her little princess to keep up easily enough and not wear out her newly polished hooves.

The buckskin snorts, drawing closer to the stranger, whom bares the distinct scent of the Chamber. She moves cautiously, unsure whether they are friend or foe and taking good care to keep herself between the unknown horse and her infant foal. Gingerly she rounds the edge of a tree, cocking her head to get a better view of the stranger. She is golden in shade, matching the sands in a fashion not too dis-similar to that of herself and her foal.

"Welcome to the Deserts," she says warmly, drawing herself into full view now. She stands tall, proud despite her exhausted body. It takes effort for the little pony to draw herself to her full height, to hold her head high as the spring breeze ripples her thick, voluminous mane over her neck and across her eyes. Her breathing is shallow, but despite this her smile is dazzling, embracing and sincere.

Bringing her daughter into the world has taken it's toll. However, it is her duty as a Queen to carry on.

"I am Pevensie, Queen. This is my daughter. Please, help yourself to as much shade as you need. What is mine, is also yours,"

[Engelsfors]

Drink thy poison lightly dear, ♦♢♦ The beginnings of a great monarch, is when nothing stirs within the boundaries that they do not know about. Sinews pull taut within my jaw, a slight grind of ivory teeth. I am doubting I am mulling the borders, there would not be such a haven, a paradise so close to strangers. My azure orbs scan the land - rolling dunes of sand, miniscule grains that slip through your hooves like the grains in a sand timer. My eyes drink in all, the large tree being one purposely grained in my mind. The gentle pulse in the It makes my nerves flutter, my mind fully alive. There are thing  untouched within this realm, to the residents, they know all, but to a mere stranger like I, it is cracking open a luscious Apple and revealing the tender whit  flesh, the ideas and notions grip my mind with sturdy fingers then, I am drifting  Rom my job at hand. And now, my job starts. The buckling lady is worthy of attention, the way an  holds herself, it is with an air of confidence, she has travelled these sandy dunes far more times than I, and with it comes veteran expertise. She sinks and slides like the sand and her are merged. My eye  lock into her, she has another air, an elegance of a lark, gentle, tender. When she speaks, my lips twist into a smooth smile. Kindly met, my lady. my tone is saccharine, sweet like the fruits from tree, yet  husky as the wind whipping through valleys and ripping everything in it  path. I draw my gaze then to the small bundle that rests behind the creamy mare. The smile twitches on my lips - they say that the future is in the hooves of the little ones. Perhaps they are right, perhaps they are wrong. The pleasure is mine, my lady. Thank you. I acknowledge her offer of shade and take it gratifyingly. The suns warmth slides over my golden skin and slips against each codebase, burden on  me with patches of perspiration. I dip my nose, link muzzle twisting. Engelsfors, of the Chamber. I have come for the competitions. I offer her my reasoning behind  being here, so that I was neither threat not foe. My eyes settle on the young  one, watch in  her with a new intrigue. I'm still young  myself, I cannot picture children in my immediate future - yet I had never pictured myself settling so well in the ash scarred chamber, as I have. My gaze shifts the tree, such a strange commodity to have grace the sandy backdrop. My curiosity gets th  better, and with black magic and intrigue in my voice, I beckon for mysteries. I must ask, my lady. The tree. It seems rather out of place... and yet not. As though it's meant to be here. There is significance, no? one gets nowhere in life if one does not ask questions. ♦♢♦ there are deeper and darker things than you; professor of the chamber

html by magpie77 - photo manip by beequeen - character by magpie77

[Pevensie]

Comfortably, the stranger settles herself in beneath the shade. Though they remain close in the dulled fingers spread beneath the leaves to the tree, both mares seem at perfect ease within each others company. Pevensie, for one, is most glad to remain in the stretches of the shadow, cooler and less exposed, where she can better protect her daughter from the harshest light of the day.

Engelsfors - a foreign sounding name, though perhaps Pevensie sounds just as strange to a foreign tongue. She muses briefly over the idea, wondering how her name sounded amongst the Desert sands. It was conjured many moons ago, in the Falls, for a different climate and a very different time. Probably, if she had been born now, she would be called something very different. Just as she named her child Ketterley, after tradition, she wondering if new traditions are made in the same way. Perhaps that is what created this strangers name.

Then the palomino mares' attentions drift upwards, to the source of their shade and comfort. It brings a soft, gentle frown upon the buckskin Queens features, squinting up into the bows of the tree. She knows the story well, of why it is here, though she also knows it is not a necessarily a happy one.

"It was created by love. An immortal Queen, bore her love away to a mortal man. A Beren and Luthien, torn asunder by the oldest of promises - death. When Beren was taken from her, in her grief, Luthien created a garden. At the centre, where he fell, remains this tree. As it always shall be now, as a reminder that death is not the end, that life can only endure. Mostly though, as a place I suppose for her to grieve. A place to gather her thoughts," Pevensie explains in gentle, muted, respectful tones. She knows fine well that Yael built this magical place, but it did not seem right to name her. Almost as if Pev were trying to rob her of precious memories, or happier times.

She smiles softly though after, turning back to the mare to try and lighten the mood a little "Tell me, do you have any such places in the Chamber? I have visited, but not for a long time ago now. A very long time ago."

[Killdare]

He had taken his time in departing from the Chamber. Choosing to sleep in and fill his gullet with water before leaving the cover of the pines. It was odd how exposed he felt every time he left now, the open expanses feeling very awkward to him. Sure he relished in the vastness of it all, the simplicity of crossing the terrain. He didn't have to be careful out here, there was nothing for him to break. It was nice to relax in that aspect, just moving as he wished, carrying his bulk without walking on eggshells. Not that he hated it, no, in fact he loved the Chamber. Though it's halls were not really meant for one of his girth, it kissed his sides with unyielding security.

He had made the journey with little excitement, passing through the Falls on his way to the Desert. Following for a time the path that Engel had taken, her scent still affixed to the Earth. It was only some time that he followed it because indeed she had strayed off course. If she would have just waited for him, she could have avoided all the circling about. He nickered, finding this amusing, something he would be sure to bring up when he arrived. Perhaps next time, he would draw her a map first. He didn't think the gold would appreciate that though, his little joke would likely be met with an icy glare.

The Desert was endless, or so it seemed. The beige dunes rolling on forever, for past the horizon. The heat was nasty, his pelt slick with sweat as he plodded his way through the soft terrain. Locks of course black hair clung to his neck, plastered flat against his skin. Well, he wouldn't be arriving pretty, that's for sure. A welcome breeze kicked up at the most convenient of times, cooling his fevered flesh as he crossed their borders. No one was there to stop him even, not a bat of an eye as greeting.

He couldn't miss that glare anywhere. The sun colored femme glinting in blazing rays, ready conversing with the natives. No surprise there, all she did was talk really. He had come to expect such behavior from Engel, she really did test his patience in that aspect. He was usually so astute when it came to conversation, providing the speaker with his full attention. A gaze of green sea glass intent on the face of the one who spoke. However, a few times he had really slipped up on this. If he paid her too much mind, she would simply go on forever. He sided up to Engel,  smirk on his bay muzzle. "So how many days did it take you to get here?" He goaded her, baiting her to give him a rise. His face the picture of smugness as he waited on her response.

A dip of his head was given to another woman and a babe that took refuge under the shade of a tree. He smiled before greeting them, "Hi, I'm Killdare. Are you here for the games as well?"

Dutiful Soldier|Captain of the Chamber

[Engelsfors]

Love. It is rich in splendour, puzzle pieces as difficult to decipher as the very meaning of life. Oh, but we love to tell whimsical tales of it. A beautiful, fragile thing, like a heart. I listened to Pevensie with the same interest and intrigue as I once listened to my mother, spin the same tales on her fingers. This one, has a surreal twist. Magic was not uncommon in Beqanna, and I was still adjusting, but it made the story all that more mysterious. My azure eyes flit to the little one, ever watchful and curious as to the mechanical way newly borns move, and how little they stray from their mother. Instinct burning into them already, like the hot, desert sun. My shoulders roll as I shift, moving deeper into the comfort of the shadows. Turning to the creamy coloured Queen, a smooth twist upon my velvet lips.

'Such things are extraordinary. Love, how if transcends sense, thought and ultimately, death.' I hold a momentary glaze over my eyes then, fleeting memories bulleting through me, harsh, cutting. A wayward twist of Holden hair lulls over my cerulean gem and I'm back in the scorching deserts, the sand grains malleable beneath my feet, sloping and sliding like the hands of time.

'I wonder, I wonder about love and it's... Almighty power.' My voice holds question, but not daring any but the tepid wind to answer. I twist my head to gaze upon the filly. I wouldnt pose threat, I wouldnt destroy the filaments of hope and fantasy that shape children's lifes. It's only when we grow, do we realise that mothers weren't akways right, there was no shining knight riding out against the sun.

'One day, my little lady, perhaps you'll share your own tree with another.' My tone is soft, feather light. Betraying the ache in my own bones, the shallow thuds of my own heart. As Pevensie asks if the Chamber has anything similar, a laugh rings from my lips. Perhaps s little darker than it should. 'The Chamber stole a man's heart. Another form of love, if you will. And it's pulse still drums through the earth. I suppose love, can be incredibly powerful, and dangerous to some extent.'

As my words finish, I catch the light breeze in my golden tresses, and with it, the familiarity of the chamber. Deep moist Earth, rich menthol pine. And the arid scent if forever burning that seems to attach itself to its residents, whispering sweet words into our ears at night, wear it with pride. And oh, we do indeed.

My head turns ever so, trailing the gossamer threads down my neck. I see him then and am reminded of my initial thought. Knights, racing through the sun. A smile, a twisted little thing, settles on my lips and as Killdare settles between im the foray, the knots in my shoulders loosen, if only momentarily as his words send my ears fluttering back into creamy mounds of mane, but my smile is still etched like polished stone.

'A fair few more than you, I'd imagine. Perhaps, perhaps indeed my path was twisted and lost. But I made it, did I not?' There is a ring in my voice, a gentle Hum of condensation, yet it falls and slips from my fingers. 'Next time, you shall draw me a map on the chamber floor. Then it won't slip my little golden mind.' My tone is lighter then, ears flottering back up. My eyes shift from the bay soldier to the buckskin queen and back again.

'You could say that she is indeed. Monarchs often are involved in their own competitions.' Black magic weaving and winding from my pursed lips. I play, I tease. I know it irks him, sends his veins all in a pulse. But it is remarkably amusing. And dreadfully entertaining to watch. My smile remains crooked as I look on Killdare, his coat ash marred but still a Blood red glow beneath the deserts sun. He really is a shining knight right now, and I have to stifle those childish thoughts.

'My lady.' I dip my nose to Pevensie and her daughter, 'this is Killdare, Captain of the Chamber. Killdare, this is Pevensie, Queen and her daughter.'

[Ketterley]

we are living in a material world,

and i am a material girl

♦ ♦ ♦

Some children, certainly, are shaped by hope and fantasy. Some of them dream, in abstract terms, about the lives that they will lead when they are fully grown.

Ketterley is not one of these children.

It's not that she doesn't dream – she most certainly does – but she does not dream in the abstract. She knows with absolute certainty that every dream she has will become reality, that everything, every moment, is leading up to her grand destiny. She knows with absolute certainty that she's incredibly important, that she is charming and adorable now, and that she will grow into a great beauty later. She knows with absolute certainty that she is the apple of her mother and father's eye. She knows with absolute certainty that, in short, she's something incredibly special. And that is both a powerful and dangerous knowledge.

She is neither shy nor scared of the stranger as she stands behind her mother. They just haven't yet said or done anything that interests her enough for her to come out and talk to them in their own right. Plus, she's come to understand that her mother likes feeling like she's protecting her daughter, and Ketterley is absolutely unwilling to displease her mother.

She listens with feigned interest as they talk of love. She is always interested in what the adults say, although she tends to at least think she knows better. She is of course very wrong, and someday she'll no doubt realize that, but for now her attention to their words is more humoring than anything else. If Ketterley is lacking anything, it certainly is not self-confidence.

When the other golden mare speaks to her, Ketterley remembers she's with her mother, and therefore makes a point to remember her manners. She acknowledges the mare's words with a sweet, dazzling, adorable smile. "I hope so!" she says, her voice shy and sweet, peeking out from beside her mother.

She's glad she's listening when they talk about a stolen heart. Ketterley has always been one for bedtime stories and fairy tales – that tends to happen when you firmly believe you're the princess in a fairy tale all your own. But she's never heard something like a stolen heart. She wants to ask more, but she's not sure that her mother would appreciate her interest. And so she simply responds by snuggling into her mother's side, gently gently. She is no fool; she knows that her mother seems weaker than some of the other horses, and she won't make it any harder on her mother than it already is.

Another horse approaches, a stallion, and Ketterley looks at him with interest for a moment, before deciding that he's about as interesting as Engelsfors was before she had started talking about the heart – which is to say, not very. They talk about how long it took Engelsfors to get there, and although Ket keeps her face outwardly polite and interested, inside she's about ready to be done with this subject. Were all adults so silly with their pleasantries? She understands well that a lady's conversation and courtesies are her armor, but still.

Finally, Engelsfors gets around to introducing her mother and herself. And Ketterley decides it's high time that Engelsfors (and this newcomer Killdare) learn her name. "Ketterley." she says sweetly, just after Engelsfors finishes speaking. "I'm Ketterley." she repeats again, smiling sweetly, every inch the adorable child, just precocious enough to count, not precocious enough to raise any eyebrows. She doesn't feel any need to rush into adulthood. Not any need at all. Especially not when her mother and father seem so taken with her just as she is.

Ketterley

perfect little princess of hurricane and pevensie

This was going to be a Cam post. And then Ket had to jump in :|