06-18-2019, 03:22 PM
She has never quite understood the concept of running. It’s a thing she genuinely does not really do, though she is a capable fighter (living a nomadic life often leads to the need to be able to defend oneself) and certainly a more than capable flier. She does not need to work up a sweat to fly at breakneck speeds, her power giving her all she needs in order to do so, but she has trained herself to fly without aid almost as well as with. Of course, she cannot simply float in midair without her powers, cannot move like a hummingbird, but she can fly without it. It was a matter of pride, for her, to be able to outmatch just about anyone in the sky.
The thought brings with it the image if Wolfbane, and she wonders at that. It’s a strange thing to associate a memory with another horse, but she recalls him and his ability to fly without the aid of any power. She’d had to try to keep up with him, which is a rare thing indeed. Of course, she could have cheated and simply used her magic to win outright, but it was far better to best him with her own prowess, though she’d barely managed to do so.
Even at that, beat probably isn’t the right word, but it is how she likes to think of it. Somehow, she feels like he expects that’s exactly the way she thinks of it, though perhaps she’s just making that up. Strange too to even have expectations of what someone else might think, to pretend like she has ever bothered to get to know anyone but her twin so well. They had spent only an afternoon together, but she did feel as if she got to know him in the way she felt as if she got to know Leliana in their brief time together. The horses of Beqanna surprised her, it seemed, in ways she’d never found elsewhere.
The thought helps her settle as she watches the sweaty, disheveled stallion approach. The concept of growing roots is still nerve wracking to the sky bound mare, but it’s appeal grows on her with every passing moment. The stallion is pleasant, asking what her business is here, and she supposes she managed to get the whole “stand at the border and have manners” thing right. Little did this stallion know she’s flown over this place a million times already, knows the ins and out of it as a bird might but certainly not as a horse might.
“Leliana told me if I ever wanted a home to come here and ask for her. I thought I might be interested,” she said, the word home feeling strange and foreign on her tongue. “My name is Rae,” she adds, realizing it’s probably polite to introduce herself. She is not purposefully impolite, but rather when birds are you normal companions you simply forget such things as names. Birds don’t care much for names, or chatter about the weather, or anything that civilization might consider polite. It was still a learning curve.
The thought brings with it the image if Wolfbane, and she wonders at that. It’s a strange thing to associate a memory with another horse, but she recalls him and his ability to fly without the aid of any power. She’d had to try to keep up with him, which is a rare thing indeed. Of course, she could have cheated and simply used her magic to win outright, but it was far better to best him with her own prowess, though she’d barely managed to do so.
Even at that, beat probably isn’t the right word, but it is how she likes to think of it. Somehow, she feels like he expects that’s exactly the way she thinks of it, though perhaps she’s just making that up. Strange too to even have expectations of what someone else might think, to pretend like she has ever bothered to get to know anyone but her twin so well. They had spent only an afternoon together, but she did feel as if she got to know him in the way she felt as if she got to know Leliana in their brief time together. The horses of Beqanna surprised her, it seemed, in ways she’d never found elsewhere.
The thought helps her settle as she watches the sweaty, disheveled stallion approach. The concept of growing roots is still nerve wracking to the sky bound mare, but it’s appeal grows on her with every passing moment. The stallion is pleasant, asking what her business is here, and she supposes she managed to get the whole “stand at the border and have manners” thing right. Little did this stallion know she’s flown over this place a million times already, knows the ins and out of it as a bird might but certainly not as a horse might.
“Leliana told me if I ever wanted a home to come here and ask for her. I thought I might be interested,” she said, the word home feeling strange and foreign on her tongue. “My name is Rae,” she adds, realizing it’s probably polite to introduce herself. She is not purposefully impolite, but rather when birds are you normal companions you simply forget such things as names. Birds don’t care much for names, or chatter about the weather, or anything that civilization might consider polite. It was still a learning curve.
rae
my soul is in the sky
@[Jakub]
Use of mild power playing is allowed; no injuries without permission