for every tyrant, a tear for the vulnerable
in every lost soul, the bones of a miracle
She is a leader now, some kind Queen, and Yidhra, though she may style herself in another manner is too a ruler. Titles seem trivial, considering how much there is to do, but she is curious and wishes to address the creature who holds the lands to the East with respect. The two of them have never interacted one on one but Kensa is undaunted by this. Certainly many were frightened or even angered by the tentacled mare’s appearance in Silver Cove on the day of Hyaline’s exodus but Kensa had only watched her curiously, her focus had been on her friends and her home. She had been angry and afraid but Yidhra had only been another surprise in a terrible day. Kensa’s fear and anger about the circumstances feel like that of a child suddenly ripped away from the comfort of a teat in hindsight. Now she lives in the plague, lives through the plague, (does not forget it) but does not consider it an ending.
For Kensa it has been nothing if not a beginning.
After meeting Yidhra in the place where the mountains of Hyaline give way to the salton grey earth of the risen kingdom of Pangea the two of them make their way to Sylva along the path of Yidhra’s choosing. Kensa is not inclined to small talk, she is friendly but does not chatter inanely.
“Yidhra, your name, what does it mean in your tongue?” She says the Pangean’s name carefully, doing her best not to butcher the foreign moniker, mindful of the way it feels in her mouth. Perhaps it doesn’t mean anything, but she cannot help opening up conversation with Yidhra, drawn to the differences between them. Kensa is aware of how ordinary she is beside the kraken, but is unabashed by this. She looks upon Yidhra with bold topaz eyes, but does not focus on the coil of tentacle or the strange texture of skin, but on a slight furrow in the brow here or a twinge in sinuous muscle there, subtler features that tell her more about the Archon than her distractingly monstrous features (though these too speak even when Yidhra does not).
Sylva is remarkable, even in autumn when the rest of Beqanna is attempting to match it’s color. Oversaturated reds and golds serve as a banner for the monarchy that stands herein, Kensa knows they are here when they reach the border, like Hyaline the boundary has been maintained. Someone holds Sylva for certain and now they must determine just who that someone is.
@[Yidhra]
