so you wanna play with magic?
Does it matter where I am? To Camrynn, of course it doesn't matter. She is everywhere and nowhere, everything and nothing, a beautiful contradiction writ large across Beqanna and even larger across the world. But to a mare for whom everything boils down to a single point of existence traveling along a linear timeline, why yes, she thinks it matters. Or at least, she thinks it should.
"It always matters." she speaks gently, still smiling. "At least, until you can change it in a heartbeat." and in that heartbeat they are back at the willow, back in the storm, back almost in the moments just before Tarnished had found her, before she'd even met Camrynn. They are viewing it together, Dominion distinctly aware of what is happening, looking at the scene as though on a movie screen. Another heartbeat, and they're back where they were, returned to the Meadow as they had been just a moment before, as though they'd never left. Was it an illusion? Had they traveled through time? Does it really matter? That's the beauty of it – whether she weaves dreams in their heads or drags them along through gloriously warped time, it all turns out the same in the end.
"It's a pleasure to encounter you as well, Dominion." she says, her eyes shifting to a gold as the seaweed falls from her mane and tail, disappearing before it hits the ground. She is just herself, just a black-coated magician once more. "And I do hope we shall meet in the future." It is an offhand comment, but she knows that it will come to pass. Both because she can see it and because she knows that she will make it so.
In fact, it occurs to her to make it so right now.
A blink of the eye, and the world has turned. She has always been one to manipulate time, to split it, rejoin it, twist it and re-make it as she wants it to be. For her, time is a plaything; she exists outside of it, fully capable of batting it around like a cat with a ball of yarn. But at the moment, she isn't playing with it capriciously. She's moving it deliberately, shifting things around so that Dominion's experiences with Nish, her decision to return to Beqanna with him, are all folded into her consciousness. The timelines are woven together brilliantly, artistically – she is a painter, reshaping things to suit her whim. She deposits them at the end of summer.
And she smiles.
Perhaps Dominion would see it as a new conversation. After all, the setting is dramatically different; the warmth of summer has given way to autumn, the leaves are falling from the trees and the fading sun brings with it a bite of chill. But perhaps she would also know, somehow, what had happened. Perhaps she would feel as though they were just talking, but would also command all of her memories. Perhaps it would feel like a strange cousin of déjà vu. Perhaps she would sense that something has been done, that the VCR has been put on fast forward, that the DVD skipped ahead a bit. But Dominion is the movie, and Camrynn is the one holding the remote – and watching with great interest.
Today, Camrynn is a sky goddess. Tiny wings flicker at her fetlocks, feathers weave themselves though her mane and tail, and a great pair of white wings shaped entirely out of clouds arcs above her back. She is black still, recognizable as the sea-mare still, the same and yet different. "Dominion." she says with a gentle smile, as though it were an entirely normal conversation, as though they had simply encountered each other in the Meadow after an absence. "You seem to be healing nicely." she says with her velvet-voice, wrapped today in a tiny whisper of cloud. Her eyes are a bright blue, the sky to her clouds.
Perhaps she means healing physically. Perhaps she means healing mentally. Perhaps she means both.
Perhaps she means neither.
"It always matters." she speaks gently, still smiling. "At least, until you can change it in a heartbeat." and in that heartbeat they are back at the willow, back in the storm, back almost in the moments just before Tarnished had found her, before she'd even met Camrynn. They are viewing it together, Dominion distinctly aware of what is happening, looking at the scene as though on a movie screen. Another heartbeat, and they're back where they were, returned to the Meadow as they had been just a moment before, as though they'd never left. Was it an illusion? Had they traveled through time? Does it really matter? That's the beauty of it – whether she weaves dreams in their heads or drags them along through gloriously warped time, it all turns out the same in the end.
"It's a pleasure to encounter you as well, Dominion." she says, her eyes shifting to a gold as the seaweed falls from her mane and tail, disappearing before it hits the ground. She is just herself, just a black-coated magician once more. "And I do hope we shall meet in the future." It is an offhand comment, but she knows that it will come to pass. Both because she can see it and because she knows that she will make it so.
In fact, it occurs to her to make it so right now.
A blink of the eye, and the world has turned. She has always been one to manipulate time, to split it, rejoin it, twist it and re-make it as she wants it to be. For her, time is a plaything; she exists outside of it, fully capable of batting it around like a cat with a ball of yarn. But at the moment, she isn't playing with it capriciously. She's moving it deliberately, shifting things around so that Dominion's experiences with Nish, her decision to return to Beqanna with him, are all folded into her consciousness. The timelines are woven together brilliantly, artistically – she is a painter, reshaping things to suit her whim. She deposits them at the end of summer.
And she smiles.
Perhaps Dominion would see it as a new conversation. After all, the setting is dramatically different; the warmth of summer has given way to autumn, the leaves are falling from the trees and the fading sun brings with it a bite of chill. But perhaps she would also know, somehow, what had happened. Perhaps she would feel as though they were just talking, but would also command all of her memories. Perhaps it would feel like a strange cousin of déjà vu. Perhaps she would sense that something has been done, that the VCR has been put on fast forward, that the DVD skipped ahead a bit. But Dominion is the movie, and Camrynn is the one holding the remote – and watching with great interest.
Today, Camrynn is a sky goddess. Tiny wings flicker at her fetlocks, feathers weave themselves though her mane and tail, and a great pair of white wings shaped entirely out of clouds arcs above her back. She is black still, recognizable as the sea-mare still, the same and yet different. "Dominion." she says with a gentle smile, as though it were an entirely normal conversation, as though they had simply encountered each other in the Meadow after an absence. "You seem to be healing nicely." she says with her velvet-voice, wrapped today in a tiny whisper of cloud. Her eyes are a bright blue, the sky to her clouds.
Perhaps she means healing physically. Perhaps she means healing mentally. Perhaps she means both.
Perhaps she means neither.
CAMRYNN
co-queen of the deserts, magical, mother of badassery