08-10-2015, 09:37 PM
so you wanna play with magic?
She's aware of them, of course. Every kingdom has them, after all – those who exist on the margins, various degrees of lunatic fringe. She's been aware of Else and Caius for as long as she's been aware of the Deserts. After all, they've actually been here longer than she. But she's never seen them, not either of them, and until now she hasn't thought to seek them out. She hasn't needed the stimulation of new company.
Until, one day, she does. It's not that she is discontent; far from it, she finds that crowns and thrones and queenship suit her, almost as though she were born to them (which, if you want to be especially circumspect, she was, at least on her mother's side and after a fashion). But even the happiest of marriages produce inevitable moments of discontent. And so she finds herself standing on the dunes in the gentle winter (so sweet, so mild in this land where the temperature ranges between hot, hotter, scalding, and hellfire), and she finds that she is, well, bored.
A good time, in short, to pay a visit to her newest friends she hasn't met yet.
She's pried enough to understand some of the basics, to know that they're not a threat. But she hasn't come close to digging deeper, to scratching below the surface of everything that Else is, and everything that's happened to the scarred mare. It's not respect that stops her – she respects even fewer horses than she loves. Rather, it's the stink of magic on the girl that keeps Camrynn at bay. For all the power she commands (strengthened by her grandmother's not-at-all-willing sacrifice) she still hesitates to meddle in the affairs of other magicians, or at least to do so without thoroughly considering the consequences.
And so she's willing to let Else unfold herself, or at least give her the chance, before she goes digging through layers placed there by a magician. Professional courtesy, and all.
In the years she's lived here in the Deserts she's learned that the majority of horses don't appreciate it if you appear right next to them. And that's doubly true, she supposes, of a horse like Else who has chosen to sequester herself far away from the rest of the world. And so she appears well away from the girl, a beautiful black mirage against the gentle pink of the sands.
She is as beautiful as she ever is, black and glorious and not a day older than when she'd taken the crown. How long ago had it been now? The years have blended together. She hasn't done much for the Deserts so far, or at least, she hasn't done enough – not nearly enough. Luckily for her, she's got all the time in the world.
She approaches the girl with a nonchalant gait. She appears, to the casual observer, to be quite the normal mare. Pretty, certainly, a pure black without markings, her mane and tail far more free of tangles and burrs than any wild horse has any right to be. But her only truly distinctive markings are a simple gold crook and flail across her chest, a trail of diamonds and precious stones that traces across her left cheek like a necklace, and her remarkable eyes – today a delicate gold, tinged with pink, just like the beautiful sands of the Desert.
There is nothing threatening about her, and that's by design.
"Hello." she calls, her voice like warm velvet, soothing and enveloping. She is still a good distance away from Else, and she hopes that she won't frighten her off. Moving with graceful strides, she eventually closes that distance, giving the mare a gentle smile. "I'm Camrynn. I hope you're enjoying the Deserts?"
It's all she can do not to pry.
Until, one day, she does. It's not that she is discontent; far from it, she finds that crowns and thrones and queenship suit her, almost as though she were born to them (which, if you want to be especially circumspect, she was, at least on her mother's side and after a fashion). But even the happiest of marriages produce inevitable moments of discontent. And so she finds herself standing on the dunes in the gentle winter (so sweet, so mild in this land where the temperature ranges between hot, hotter, scalding, and hellfire), and she finds that she is, well, bored.
A good time, in short, to pay a visit to her newest friends she hasn't met yet.
She's pried enough to understand some of the basics, to know that they're not a threat. But she hasn't come close to digging deeper, to scratching below the surface of everything that Else is, and everything that's happened to the scarred mare. It's not respect that stops her – she respects even fewer horses than she loves. Rather, it's the stink of magic on the girl that keeps Camrynn at bay. For all the power she commands (strengthened by her grandmother's not-at-all-willing sacrifice) she still hesitates to meddle in the affairs of other magicians, or at least to do so without thoroughly considering the consequences.
And so she's willing to let Else unfold herself, or at least give her the chance, before she goes digging through layers placed there by a magician. Professional courtesy, and all.
In the years she's lived here in the Deserts she's learned that the majority of horses don't appreciate it if you appear right next to them. And that's doubly true, she supposes, of a horse like Else who has chosen to sequester herself far away from the rest of the world. And so she appears well away from the girl, a beautiful black mirage against the gentle pink of the sands.
She is as beautiful as she ever is, black and glorious and not a day older than when she'd taken the crown. How long ago had it been now? The years have blended together. She hasn't done much for the Deserts so far, or at least, she hasn't done enough – not nearly enough. Luckily for her, she's got all the time in the world.
She approaches the girl with a nonchalant gait. She appears, to the casual observer, to be quite the normal mare. Pretty, certainly, a pure black without markings, her mane and tail far more free of tangles and burrs than any wild horse has any right to be. But her only truly distinctive markings are a simple gold crook and flail across her chest, a trail of diamonds and precious stones that traces across her left cheek like a necklace, and her remarkable eyes – today a delicate gold, tinged with pink, just like the beautiful sands of the Desert.
There is nothing threatening about her, and that's by design.
"Hello." she calls, her voice like warm velvet, soothing and enveloping. She is still a good distance away from Else, and she hopes that she won't frighten her off. Moving with graceful strides, she eventually closes that distance, giving the mare a gentle smile. "I'm Camrynn. I hope you're enjoying the Deserts?"
It's all she can do not to pry.
CAMRYNN
co-queen of the deserts, magical, mother of badassery