03-06-2017, 10:42 AM
That Brennen is doing well does it surprise her. Athe bay stallion had seemed the type to need a purpose, and Djinni is glad that he has found it it Nerine's army.
"No one seems to have much of an army," She replies, an easy admission of Sylva's z weakness. The two of them are no normal allied monarchs; Sylva is an extension of the kingdom of Nerine and so it is Nayl's right to know of its weaknesses (and in turn protect them for it) as well as its strengths. The autumnal forest is no powerful ally, but when Nayl speaks of adding Ischia to her collections, Djinni only grins.
"Empress Nayl," she says with a thoughtful nod. "I like it." It seems fitting that the steely Nayl would be the first to attempt such a thing in this New Beqanna. Perhaps she is the first to try in any Beqanna. The Blood Alliance of old had no central leader - only family ties. She looks at the other tobiano appraisingly for a moment. Yes, she decides, if Nayl were to set her mind to ruling Beqanna, she could succeed. Perhaps she will even let Djinni assist, and give the grullo mare something to do that doesn't require any true sense of responsibility.
"Perhaps a council," she suggests, "Knowing he has a voice in your decisions." Equal representation might even be alluring to other small realms; protection from the empire in return for taking a knee. When they veer from politics at her request, Djinni finds the next subject equally disconcerting when the questions are aimed at her.
For a while she watches the waves, searching for the right way to answer. Djinni does not mind that her hesitation is clear; she trusts Nayl. The grullo mare is looking for the right words, not thinking of a lie, and just as she'd wait for Nayl to find them she knows that Nayl will wait for her.
It has been a long time since Djinni has had a friend, and she's blissfully unaware that the sorry she's trying to find the words for might tear at the foundation of this friendship.
"Stillwater." She finally says, but the words that she'd meant to say after it feel to raw in her throat and she holds them back. The grullo mare is reluctant to admit to her own lack of knowledge, nor reluctant to be honest with Nayl (though she knows it might seem that way).
"What do you know of him? Before he came here?" What is he? She doesn't say, but the question is in her sea glass eyes. The air in her chest feels stale but she cannot force herself to let it go. It burns, not unlike the way she had. But the wind flicks a damp hank of hair across her neck and she feels it on the scars that she'd wished concealed by it. Djinni had forgotten how windy it was in Nerine. Another gust blows it back again and she pays it no mind, hopeful that the smokey black mare beside her will dismiss them as paired with the barely visible hoof scrapes on her sides. They are adults, Nayl and Djinni, they can do what they please with men and feel no shame.
"No one seems to have much of an army," She replies, an easy admission of Sylva's z weakness. The two of them are no normal allied monarchs; Sylva is an extension of the kingdom of Nerine and so it is Nayl's right to know of its weaknesses (and in turn protect them for it) as well as its strengths. The autumnal forest is no powerful ally, but when Nayl speaks of adding Ischia to her collections, Djinni only grins.
"Empress Nayl," she says with a thoughtful nod. "I like it." It seems fitting that the steely Nayl would be the first to attempt such a thing in this New Beqanna. Perhaps she is the first to try in any Beqanna. The Blood Alliance of old had no central leader - only family ties. She looks at the other tobiano appraisingly for a moment. Yes, she decides, if Nayl were to set her mind to ruling Beqanna, she could succeed. Perhaps she will even let Djinni assist, and give the grullo mare something to do that doesn't require any true sense of responsibility.
"Perhaps a council," she suggests, "Knowing he has a voice in your decisions." Equal representation might even be alluring to other small realms; protection from the empire in return for taking a knee. When they veer from politics at her request, Djinni finds the next subject equally disconcerting when the questions are aimed at her.
For a while she watches the waves, searching for the right way to answer. Djinni does not mind that her hesitation is clear; she trusts Nayl. The grullo mare is looking for the right words, not thinking of a lie, and just as she'd wait for Nayl to find them she knows that Nayl will wait for her.
It has been a long time since Djinni has had a friend, and she's blissfully unaware that the sorry she's trying to find the words for might tear at the foundation of this friendship.
"Stillwater." She finally says, but the words that she'd meant to say after it feel to raw in her throat and she holds them back. The grullo mare is reluctant to admit to her own lack of knowledge, nor reluctant to be honest with Nayl (though she knows it might seem that way).
"What do you know of him? Before he came here?" What is he? She doesn't say, but the question is in her sea glass eyes. The air in her chest feels stale but she cannot force herself to let it go. It burns, not unlike the way she had. But the wind flicks a damp hank of hair across her neck and she feels it on the scars that she'd wished concealed by it. Djinni had forgotten how windy it was in Nerine. Another gust blows it back again and she pays it no mind, hopeful that the smokey black mare beside her will dismiss them as paired with the barely visible hoof scrapes on her sides. They are adults, Nayl and Djinni, they can do what they please with men and feel no shame.
D J I N N I
genie | rose gold tobiano dun | trickster