Her position as the mistress of whispers is a precarious one, but Djinni is finding that she rather enjoys it. Her responsibilities add a layer of complexity to their life on the seashore. Each morning, when they separate and Walter takes to the skies to tend to his tasks, Djinni now has someplace to go as well. She no longer is confined to walking the seashore in endless loops or experimenting - how far of a fall the equine body can withstand was her most recent discovery..
Is this what Walter had felt like when he’d become attached to Nerine?
He had always had the Chamber, throughout the entirety of their existence. He still smells like pine to the golden mare, even if that is mostly memory. He now has the iron grey shores of Nerine, and Djinni supposes that she has a bit of that now too.
Her intentions are somewhat different than those of the golden champion, but they are not working entirely in opposition.
Sloane does not jump away as Djinni arrives, but she does give an acceptably startled snort. It is not long before Djinni can tell that her attention is more on the going-on below than their conversation, and Djinni takes a step closer to the edge to peer over. Below, there is a small gathering, one that includes the Queen.
Uninteresting.
Djinni turns her attention back to Sloene, and the grullo mare answers her question with only minor hesitation. The explanation of her background is unremarkable, but Djinni’s sea green eyes narrow at the mention of the mares who raised Sloene.
”My sister was always good at keeping secrets,” she says mildly, ”I can assuming she and Branka taught you a great many things, some of which I doubt you’ll ever share.” It is an intriguing thing, coming across another immortal. Perhaps Sloene had not meant to reveal that particular bit of information, but in her defense, few others might be able to accurately age her by her origin story.
Sloane looks down again at the gathering below, and at her question, Djinni looks more closely at the smaller figures. Yes, she decides, that bright blue blaze might belong to the filly that had been beside Sloene at the kingdom meeting, the one who had volunteered to go to Hyaline. That explains the unfamiliar females below, Djinni realizes, they are here for the foal exchange.
”My children are long grown,” She says in reply, blissfully unaware of the miniature life that stirs within her, ”But I remember that feeling.” She doesn’t name it, because it it more complicated than a single word. Bittersweet, proud, a little sad.
Is this what Walter had felt like when he’d become attached to Nerine?
He had always had the Chamber, throughout the entirety of their existence. He still smells like pine to the golden mare, even if that is mostly memory. He now has the iron grey shores of Nerine, and Djinni supposes that she has a bit of that now too.
Her intentions are somewhat different than those of the golden champion, but they are not working entirely in opposition.
Sloane does not jump away as Djinni arrives, but she does give an acceptably startled snort. It is not long before Djinni can tell that her attention is more on the going-on below than their conversation, and Djinni takes a step closer to the edge to peer over. Below, there is a small gathering, one that includes the Queen.
Uninteresting.
Djinni turns her attention back to Sloene, and the grullo mare answers her question with only minor hesitation. The explanation of her background is unremarkable, but Djinni’s sea green eyes narrow at the mention of the mares who raised Sloene.
”My sister was always good at keeping secrets,” she says mildly, ”I can assuming she and Branka taught you a great many things, some of which I doubt you’ll ever share.” It is an intriguing thing, coming across another immortal. Perhaps Sloene had not meant to reveal that particular bit of information, but in her defense, few others might be able to accurately age her by her origin story.
Sloane looks down again at the gathering below, and at her question, Djinni looks more closely at the smaller figures. Yes, she decides, that bright blue blaze might belong to the filly that had been beside Sloene at the kingdom meeting, the one who had volunteered to go to Hyaline. That explains the unfamiliar females below, Djinni realizes, they are here for the foal exchange.
”My children are long grown,” She says in reply, blissfully unaware of the miniature life that stirs within her, ”But I remember that feeling.” She doesn’t name it, because it it more complicated than a single word. Bittersweet, proud, a little sad.