That shy smile (even if it is false) shines up at Straia and it lights up with wonder. Not only could Straia open up the sky but she could do more. At that moment, Aela thinks that Straia could do much than just open up the sky. She remembers the rain and the way that it fell for hours afterward in the North. It had kept her company as she slipped out past the borders and towards the Common Lands.
@[Straia] had left and yet that command she had given was still obeyed.
Aela admired that. It was the thing that resonated with the young filly so strongly, that kept playing over in her mind as she tried to find the trail that would take her towards Pangea (and she didn’t doubt that was the reason her journey went undisturbed; the kind of power that Straia exuded was terrifying but Aela found it thrilling). Her golden ears prick foward as she listens to the painted mare speak and then with that Magic she mentions, a raven appears suddenly on her back.
The shy smile vanishes and in its place comes a wild grin.
Why ravens? she wonders, eyeing the blue-black iridescent bird with open admiration. There was intelligence behind the creature’s dark gaze. Is their Magic stronger than others? She knows little of ravens. Aela has seen them from time to time, stealing brightly-colored flowers and glittering pieces of quartz from Nerine.
Her mind goes to imagining that perhaps the ravens steal their own trinkets and toys, maybe even different types of Magic.
There are other questions floating in her mind and her youth makes her brazenly inquisitive. She has so much she wants to know about Straia but aware that the painted Magician has a presence in her mind, Aela tries to be polite enough to keep her questions ar a minimum. (She knows what it is to be overwhelmed by another’s memories. Aela assumes that mind-reading would work much the same way.)
But the mention of the faeries jars a memory of the Mountain itself. The blonde girl blinks, almost startled herself at its clarity but she remembers what the fairy had asked of her, and rather than explain it to Straia, she shows it to her. (Learn what it’s like to live, the Magical being had said.) Her dainty ears prick and she glances back to the raven again before peering up at the Dominus, imagining that living as the Fairy had described must be like that day in Nerine.
It must be like breaking magical barriers and controlling the elements. (At least, that is what Aela is starting to think that she’d like for her version of living.) The raven on Straia’s back jumps into the sky before vanishing in a haze of smoke and Aela’s fascination returns. No, she thinks clearly and collects her thoughts so they form words instead of images. I didn’t want to stay in the North anymore. Aela thinks with a careful shrug of her shoulders. I wanted to see where you and Beyza and the others had gone. The practiced way she had held herself starts to fade when looks up to Straia again, I think I’d like to stay here.
@[Straia] had left and yet that command she had given was still obeyed.
Aela admired that. It was the thing that resonated with the young filly so strongly, that kept playing over in her mind as she tried to find the trail that would take her towards Pangea (and she didn’t doubt that was the reason her journey went undisturbed; the kind of power that Straia exuded was terrifying but Aela found it thrilling). Her golden ears prick foward as she listens to the painted mare speak and then with that Magic she mentions, a raven appears suddenly on her back.
The shy smile vanishes and in its place comes a wild grin.
Why ravens? she wonders, eyeing the blue-black iridescent bird with open admiration. There was intelligence behind the creature’s dark gaze. Is their Magic stronger than others? She knows little of ravens. Aela has seen them from time to time, stealing brightly-colored flowers and glittering pieces of quartz from Nerine.
Her mind goes to imagining that perhaps the ravens steal their own trinkets and toys, maybe even different types of Magic.
There are other questions floating in her mind and her youth makes her brazenly inquisitive. She has so much she wants to know about Straia but aware that the painted Magician has a presence in her mind, Aela tries to be polite enough to keep her questions ar a minimum. (She knows what it is to be overwhelmed by another’s memories. Aela assumes that mind-reading would work much the same way.)
But the mention of the faeries jars a memory of the Mountain itself. The blonde girl blinks, almost startled herself at its clarity but she remembers what the fairy had asked of her, and rather than explain it to Straia, she shows it to her. (Learn what it’s like to live, the Magical being had said.) Her dainty ears prick and she glances back to the raven again before peering up at the Dominus, imagining that living as the Fairy had described must be like that day in Nerine.
It must be like breaking magical barriers and controlling the elements. (At least, that is what Aela is starting to think that she’d like for her version of living.) The raven on Straia’s back jumps into the sky before vanishing in a haze of smoke and Aela’s fascination returns. No, she thinks clearly and collects her thoughts so they form words instead of images. I didn’t want to stay in the North anymore. Aela thinks with a careful shrug of her shoulders. I wanted to see where you and Beyza and the others had gone. The practiced way she had held herself starts to fade when looks up to Straia again, I think I’d like to stay here.