06-15-2015, 08:57 AM
so you wanna play with magic?
She has a thing about family.
Not her own (although, a little her own, the story of that is written in the unseen threads that bind her to her grandmother). Mostly to other people's, to meddling with generations, to watching them all whirl past her as she stands unmoving and unbothered, the eye of a storm of her own creation. And it is no different with the family of Kindling, the mare whose mind she had once rewritten, who had begged for blissful ignorance, and then disappeared once granted.
She knows immediately when Kindling's granddaughter turns up in the field. She has never met Smother before, but she can feel the burning hate in the girl and it is interesting to her. She can feel the desperate desire to prove, the burning disgust at father, mother, brother. And she smiles, because when they burn that badly, when they long to prove themselves that much, they inevitably make themselves useful to her.
She shimmers into existence beside the little group, there in an instant, and yet as though she'd always been there. She is a beautiful creature, entirely black, her coat sleek, robust, and healthy. Across her chest a gold crook-and-flail is imprinted in burnished gold, and the sunlight flashes on it. Her mane and tail are long and free of tangles, cascading darkly down her neck and across her haunches. Across her cheek, a trail of diamonds and gemstones mimics a neckace, a gift from her disappearing lover. And her eyes – today, they're a bright blue, reminiscent of the clearest summer sky.
"Tyrna, nice to see you again." she greets the Falls-mare whom she had met on the girl's brief visit to the Deserts first, her tones entirely authentic. The girl's worry about wolf-shifting is so prominent that the Deserts queen is astonished the entire gathering can't read what's on her mind. But this isn't the time or place, and so Tyrna gets little more than a smile and a delicate nod of Camrynn's pretty head.
She turns to the lady general of the Amazons next, offering a nod to her as well, before facing Smother in turn. She is silent for just a moment, as though considering the girl, and then nods ever so slightly, almost unconsciously (although with her nothing is ever truly unconscious.)
"And I'm Camrynn, of the Deserts." Her voice is like velvet, pleasant to listen to, but also rich and resonant and strong. To look at Camrynn, even not knowing the magic that she possesses, is to see a mare who is utterly confident, utterly in control, and utterly aware of it. She smiles then, small and tight. "Now, who are you?"
Not her own (although, a little her own, the story of that is written in the unseen threads that bind her to her grandmother). Mostly to other people's, to meddling with generations, to watching them all whirl past her as she stands unmoving and unbothered, the eye of a storm of her own creation. And it is no different with the family of Kindling, the mare whose mind she had once rewritten, who had begged for blissful ignorance, and then disappeared once granted.
She knows immediately when Kindling's granddaughter turns up in the field. She has never met Smother before, but she can feel the burning hate in the girl and it is interesting to her. She can feel the desperate desire to prove, the burning disgust at father, mother, brother. And she smiles, because when they burn that badly, when they long to prove themselves that much, they inevitably make themselves useful to her.
She shimmers into existence beside the little group, there in an instant, and yet as though she'd always been there. She is a beautiful creature, entirely black, her coat sleek, robust, and healthy. Across her chest a gold crook-and-flail is imprinted in burnished gold, and the sunlight flashes on it. Her mane and tail are long and free of tangles, cascading darkly down her neck and across her haunches. Across her cheek, a trail of diamonds and gemstones mimics a neckace, a gift from her disappearing lover. And her eyes – today, they're a bright blue, reminiscent of the clearest summer sky.
"Tyrna, nice to see you again." she greets the Falls-mare whom she had met on the girl's brief visit to the Deserts first, her tones entirely authentic. The girl's worry about wolf-shifting is so prominent that the Deserts queen is astonished the entire gathering can't read what's on her mind. But this isn't the time or place, and so Tyrna gets little more than a smile and a delicate nod of Camrynn's pretty head.
She turns to the lady general of the Amazons next, offering a nod to her as well, before facing Smother in turn. She is silent for just a moment, as though considering the girl, and then nods ever so slightly, almost unconsciously (although with her nothing is ever truly unconscious.)
"And I'm Camrynn, of the Deserts." Her voice is like velvet, pleasant to listen to, but also rich and resonant and strong. To look at Camrynn, even not knowing the magic that she possesses, is to see a mare who is utterly confident, utterly in control, and utterly aware of it. She smiles then, small and tight. "Now, who are you?"
CAMRYNN
co-queen of the deserts, magical, mother of badassery