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  • Beqanna

    COTY

    Assailant -- Year 226

    QOTY

    "But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura


    she got gold doorknobs / djinni
    #1

    she’s got jumper cable lips
    she’s got sunset on her breath. now i inhaled just a little bit, now i’ve got no fear of death

    In her time under Scorch’s rigorous training, Wishbone had learned a great deal about Beqanna. More specifically, she learned a great deal about Nerine and its Amazonian heritage. The ancient burnt mare had taught her of the Jungle of Old and all its Khaleesi’s — of which she had been a part of — and the old traditions they used to believe in. Although such living magic in Beqanna has faded or been ripped away from its residents, Wishbone found a few remaining individuals with such magic in the present-day Nerine.

    One such individual could be the answer to a question Wishbone has been pondering for several weeks now. Wolfbane’s demand for the healing of one of his Loessians brought an immediate response of “How?” to the mahogany mare’s mind, though she never admitted it past the fortress of her mind. Wishbone knows of several healers living on Tephra’s island, including one who is especially good friends with Warrick and Wound. Yet the idea of running back home when this is her first chance to truly use her resources as a queen made her stomach pinch and her lips press into a firm line.

    The clatter of her hooves upon ocean-smoothened cave floor brought Wishbone away from her thoughts. She’d heard of the genie living in Nerine, although she’d never personally met the mare, and her curiosity brims in the back of her mind even as she slips into the coolness of the cavern. There is no fear in her steps as Wishbone moves into the shade and blinks away the aftereffects of the sunlight; in fact, an expression of soft informality rests upon her feminine features.

    “Djinni?” Wishbone’s honey-whiskey voice echos off the walls of the cavern as she steps deeper inside. Although the dark entrance is narrow at first, the tunnel eventually opens into a clearing where hazy sunlight filters through a secondary entrance, ocean water lapping peacefully at a pebbled shore. Amber eyes glance around the cavern for something, although she isn’t quite sure what the genie looks like. “I need to speak with you, Djinni.”

    wishbone



    @[Djinni] / @[kahzie] / this is days later than i told you it would be oh well
    #2
    Since the dissolution of her single responsibility, the genie has had a copious amount of spare time. Most of it she spends with Walter and their young daughter, but there is only so much socialization that she can tolerate before she returns to the quiet solitude of her seaside cave. Walter and Rivka had left at dawn (something to do with flying, though Djinni had only been half-listening, still mostly asleep), but now the late morning light has finally reached the dozing mare.

    She had been dreaming of stars, and so they glitter on her coat as she rises, pale white against the midnight blue. Her mane and tail are moon pale, as are the draconic horns that grow between her ears. The eyes that blink open at the sound of her name are a soft and entirely natural shade of brown, though they shift through a myriad of hues to settle on sea green when she spots the caller.

    Djinni has time to rise to her feet before she is spotted, though she is still shaking off the sand when Wishbone enters the heart of her cave. She recognizes the girl (though she has become a woman, it seems), and while her expression is not entirely welcoming, it is not as disinterested as it might have been a year ago. After all, Wishbone's first act as Queen of Nerine was to take away one of the very few not boring things that Djinni had to do with herself.

    "What do you want to talk about?" asks the genie. Her voice is older than her appearance suggests, as dry and rasping as the dunes of her birthplace. There might be a flicker of a smile at the edges of her black mouth, but the corners turn down as she sees familiar marks across the bay mare's withers.

    "I hope you're being careful." Djinni says abruptly, the direction of her gaze making it clear where she focuses. "Our last queen that went swimming with a kelpie never came back." While she recognizes the marks they leave (she'd healed her own often enough to lose count), it does not occur to her that the kelpie that took Isobell might be the same one that Wishbone now dallies with, or that perhaps it is Djinni's fault that he is so enraptured with women in power.

    ooc: okay so maybe i didn't struggle to write that as much as i thought i would, and i got a bit carried away
    @[Wishbone]




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