so you wanna play with magic?
There was never a time when Camrynn was sheltered.
She had been cast out on her own almost immediately, all those many years ago when Verily had birthed her. She'd been the product of a loveless one night stand, the unwanted spawn of a madman and a woman he barely knew. They'd had her, and she'd turned out…well, she'd turned out a little bit lucky. She'd been born an illusionist with color changing eyes, and she'd realized her gifts young, found herself talented in them, and never looked back. When Beqanna was shattered and torn asunder by the Catastrophe and she'd fallen into a crack in the earth and found herself magic, it had just been the logical next step.
And ever since, nothing could shelter her – nothing existed that she could not overcome.
She likes the feeling.
She likes the feeling of the springtime, too. Not that she feels it too much in the Deserts, where the temperature is uniformly warm throughout the year. The flowers in the memorial garden are bursting and blooming, but the rest of the Deserts is as it always is: dry and silent except for the whisper of sand on sand.
She casts her mind out to the field, letting the quiet of her kingdom fall behind as she focuses on a place where she is not. She sees the horses gathering there, the way they are whorls and eddies of conversation, the way their destinies flow between them, tangling and growing muddied and messy as they flow. She is tempted (sorely tempted) to pick at some of the strands, but she does not. Today is not the day for that.
She settles on the young mare almost immediately. They are not kindred spirits (Camrynn has never known a cage), but she can feel the girl's strength of will even across the many miles that separate them.
Unseen, she listens to them, falling invisibly and noiselessly in lockstep with the girl herself, and then with Tyrna and Rhy as they come. She can feel the anxiety of Tyrna, the beast lurking beneath the surface, and she wonders to herself if perhaps it's a blessing that she and Rhy are here. Perhaps the girl's own innate gifts would be enough should Tyrna lose control. Or perhaps not.
Like a cloak being pulled from a statue, Camrynn's form emerges from invisibility with a graceful flourish. She is beside them as though she's always been there, as though she'd been a part of the group since the beginning (and really, she had, although it hadn't looked that way).
She is a beautiful thing to behold, a mare in her prime, pure black with no hint of white markings. Across her chest, a gold crook and flail sit proudly, gleaming gently in the summer sun. Across her cheek a trail of diamonds and gemstones drapes gently, a gift from a lover as magical as she. And her eyes – today they mirror the sky, a piercing, almost aching blue.
She glances to each of them in turn, her lips a small Mona Lisa smile. "Camrynn, from the Deserts." Her voice is like chocolate, smooth and rich. The tones invite you to relax into the voice, to let it wash over you. She smiles wryly, her eyes resting on the girl that's drawn all three of them here, to this conversation. "You've got quite a crowd." she observes, her voice light with gentle humor.
She had been cast out on her own almost immediately, all those many years ago when Verily had birthed her. She'd been the product of a loveless one night stand, the unwanted spawn of a madman and a woman he barely knew. They'd had her, and she'd turned out…well, she'd turned out a little bit lucky. She'd been born an illusionist with color changing eyes, and she'd realized her gifts young, found herself talented in them, and never looked back. When Beqanna was shattered and torn asunder by the Catastrophe and she'd fallen into a crack in the earth and found herself magic, it had just been the logical next step.
And ever since, nothing could shelter her – nothing existed that she could not overcome.
She likes the feeling.
She likes the feeling of the springtime, too. Not that she feels it too much in the Deserts, where the temperature is uniformly warm throughout the year. The flowers in the memorial garden are bursting and blooming, but the rest of the Deserts is as it always is: dry and silent except for the whisper of sand on sand.
She casts her mind out to the field, letting the quiet of her kingdom fall behind as she focuses on a place where she is not. She sees the horses gathering there, the way they are whorls and eddies of conversation, the way their destinies flow between them, tangling and growing muddied and messy as they flow. She is tempted (sorely tempted) to pick at some of the strands, but she does not. Today is not the day for that.
She settles on the young mare almost immediately. They are not kindred spirits (Camrynn has never known a cage), but she can feel the girl's strength of will even across the many miles that separate them.
Unseen, she listens to them, falling invisibly and noiselessly in lockstep with the girl herself, and then with Tyrna and Rhy as they come. She can feel the anxiety of Tyrna, the beast lurking beneath the surface, and she wonders to herself if perhaps it's a blessing that she and Rhy are here. Perhaps the girl's own innate gifts would be enough should Tyrna lose control. Or perhaps not.
Like a cloak being pulled from a statue, Camrynn's form emerges from invisibility with a graceful flourish. She is beside them as though she's always been there, as though she'd been a part of the group since the beginning (and really, she had, although it hadn't looked that way).
She is a beautiful thing to behold, a mare in her prime, pure black with no hint of white markings. Across her chest, a gold crook and flail sit proudly, gleaming gently in the summer sun. Across her cheek a trail of diamonds and gemstones drapes gently, a gift from a lover as magical as she. And her eyes – today they mirror the sky, a piercing, almost aching blue.
She glances to each of them in turn, her lips a small Mona Lisa smile. "Camrynn, from the Deserts." Her voice is like chocolate, smooth and rich. The tones invite you to relax into the voice, to let it wash over you. She smiles wryly, her eyes resting on the girl that's drawn all three of them here, to this conversation. "You've got quite a crowd." she observes, her voice light with gentle humor.
CAMRYNN
co-queen of the deserts, magical, mother of badassery
I know, I know, Munroe is in the Deserts...BUT STILL. <3