03-02-2017, 01:53 PM
It had happened again this morning.
The excitement, the enthusiasm, the very not-Djinni flood of emotions. Every night she falls asleep hoping that she will wake as only herself, and every dawn she is disappointed.
The emotions fade - as they always do - within a few hours. They are disconcerting while they last and yet she has been unable to pin down their origins. The grullo mare (though she is a dappled rosy grey today) has managed to eliminate the more common potential causes. She is not ready to face the most likely one (that Stillwater had somehow managed to poison her and is slowly driving her insane), so rather than look for a small pond she meanders through the autumn woods.
Beyond their borders, the cold wind has begun to rip the fall colors from the trees but here they are protected by the ancient canopy and thick trunks. The only wind is a light puff of air that lifts her black mane from her neck and runs a cool finger down her spine. She sees a few other horses as she makes her way through the woods, but they are all occupied in whatever daily pursuits they prefer. Sylva - and this new Beqanna in general - are far less structured than the kingdoms she remembers. It requires less of her and so she enjoys it, but there was something unsettling still, something she can't quite put a finger on.
Stopping in a sunlit meadow, the grey mare lowers her head to graze. Her appetite has grown lately, easily attributed to the changing of the season. She knows that winter will not be harsh, but her body refuses to accept that, putting on weight quickly in preparation for the cold that will not come.
The excitement, the enthusiasm, the very not-Djinni flood of emotions. Every night she falls asleep hoping that she will wake as only herself, and every dawn she is disappointed.
The emotions fade - as they always do - within a few hours. They are disconcerting while they last and yet she has been unable to pin down their origins. The grullo mare (though she is a dappled rosy grey today) has managed to eliminate the more common potential causes. She is not ready to face the most likely one (that Stillwater had somehow managed to poison her and is slowly driving her insane), so rather than look for a small pond she meanders through the autumn woods.
Beyond their borders, the cold wind has begun to rip the fall colors from the trees but here they are protected by the ancient canopy and thick trunks. The only wind is a light puff of air that lifts her black mane from her neck and runs a cool finger down her spine. She sees a few other horses as she makes her way through the woods, but they are all occupied in whatever daily pursuits they prefer. Sylva - and this new Beqanna in general - are far less structured than the kingdoms she remembers. It requires less of her and so she enjoys it, but there was something unsettling still, something she can't quite put a finger on.
Stopping in a sunlit meadow, the grey mare lowers her head to graze. Her appetite has grown lately, easily attributed to the changing of the season. She knows that winter will not be harsh, but her body refuses to accept that, putting on weight quickly in preparation for the cold that will not come.
D J I N N I
genie | rose gold tobiano dun | trickster