04-13-2015, 10:37 PM
 Because we can. There are few horses in the world that Camrynn would even hesitate to screw over. Eight is one of them. Pevensie is another. Dominion might be on the list as well. But Bergamot is definitely there. She could have done so many things when they first met, back when they were both young and innocent – or at least, when he was young and innocent and she was doing such a heartbreakingly good job of pretending. Back then, back before the Deserts competition, back before everything changed, she'd made him a promise. Let me show you the other kingdoms she'd said, her voice the sweet, innocent breathy child's voice that so enraptured everyone who heard it. Now, infinitely more a mare than a child, her voice enraptures for a different reason, but it's no less effective. She appears on the edges of the meadow, knowing that she'll find Bergamot here. She knows that he will be alone, knows exactly where he'll be, even knows what he is doing. Her power is even more unleashed now that she's constrained herself (more or less) to her true form. She's a beautiful mare, young, in the prime of her life, her entire body impossibly black. True to magical form, she will never fade, will never be anything less than absolutely breathtakingly beautiful. She has no markings, born a true illusionist, a blank canvas to become whatever she wanted to be. But over time she's grown a few decorations. The crook and flail of the Deserts throne contest stands out proud against her chest. It's etched in gold, living metal that curves across the planes of her chest in an unnaturally natural manner, shining bright in the summer sunlight. And as a final touch, a delicate line of gemstones traces across her left cheek, elegant like a necklace. He wouldn't be hard to find in the meadow, even for a horse without her particular talents. His coat speaks more than he ever could, shifting and beautiful. For a moment she considers mimicking him, taking up illustrated coat shifting too, but just as quickly she decides against it. He doesn't know the truth of who she is, and she doesn't feel like hurting him. That means a rather delicate situation, exactly as she'd faced with Pevensie. I mean she could just reach into their minds and tweak things so she didn't have any explaining to do, but that just really didn't seem like the sporting thing to do. And Camrynn is nothing if not fair. And so, in the spirit of fairness, she approaches him the normal way, walking in from the edges of the field. He would recognize her, she hoped, and if he didn't she could always change that. Her tail brushes across the grass as she walks, impossibly free of tangles, dramatically elegant. She says nothing, closing the distance between them with a gentle smile on her lips. Today her eyes are blue, cornflower blue, blue like the summer sky that stretches endlessly above them. Finally reaching Bergamot, she halts gracefully at conversation distance, the smile still playing with her lips. "Bergamot." she greets cheerfully, her tones warm. Her voice is like velvet, smooth and soft and infinitely pleasant. "Do you recognize me?" C A M R Y N N Why? Because I can Image copyright MariannaInsomnia |
Just in case you wanted to pick them up again
