04-28-2018, 10:54 AM
In her youth, Djinni had they sought relationships, hunted down connections that she thought might last the test of time. None of them had, of course, and that was the most important lesson she had ever learned. There remains only one thing that she has aways known, one thing that has been a part of her life before her life even began.
She walks the shores of Nerine, content with her own contentedness.
The gilt-tipped wings that she hold at her sides are fluffed out fully on this chilly late autumn morning, keeping the rose dun mare as warm as possible. She should have started growing a winter coat already, but Djinni has never loved the bulk, even when it is necessary. She will put that off until the last possible moment.
As a familiar black and white creature comes forward bearing questions, Djinni shrugs in response to most of them and extends a wing part way, offering a warm shield against the wind if Nayl were willing to accept. The dun mare doesn't expect her too; the Iron Queen has never been one to show weakness, not even to the weather. Still, Djinni does is, both out of affection and as a reminder that while time might have passed and many things changed, she still considers Nayl a dear friend.
"Brennen reinstated the Brotherhood over on Ischia," She says, watching the horizon where it has only just begun to glow with the hints of sunrise. "And I hear we're both to be congratulated. Ivar and Isobell have made us grandmothers."
It still seems strange to even be a mother; is she really old enough for that? It had taken her more than a half century to have a child, and now less than a decade and she is already a grandmother?! How long before great is added to her title? Will she live to see her own children die of old age? And then all of her descendants?
It is a morbid thought, and one that Djinni shakes away with a flick of her white tail.
"What do you make of the new regime?" She asks, turning her soft brown eyes from the water to to the black mare.
She walks the shores of Nerine, content with her own contentedness.
The gilt-tipped wings that she hold at her sides are fluffed out fully on this chilly late autumn morning, keeping the rose dun mare as warm as possible. She should have started growing a winter coat already, but Djinni has never loved the bulk, even when it is necessary. She will put that off until the last possible moment.
As a familiar black and white creature comes forward bearing questions, Djinni shrugs in response to most of them and extends a wing part way, offering a warm shield against the wind if Nayl were willing to accept. The dun mare doesn't expect her too; the Iron Queen has never been one to show weakness, not even to the weather. Still, Djinni does is, both out of affection and as a reminder that while time might have passed and many things changed, she still considers Nayl a dear friend.
"Brennen reinstated the Brotherhood over on Ischia," She says, watching the horizon where it has only just begun to glow with the hints of sunrise. "And I hear we're both to be congratulated. Ivar and Isobell have made us grandmothers."
It still seems strange to even be a mother; is she really old enough for that? It had taken her more than a half century to have a child, and now less than a decade and she is already a grandmother?! How long before great is added to her title? Will she live to see her own children die of old age? And then all of her descendants?
It is a morbid thought, and one that Djinni shakes away with a flick of her white tail.
"What do you make of the new regime?" She asks, turning her soft brown eyes from the water to to the black mare.