01-07-2016, 02:18 PM
yael
There’s something to be said for when you know someone, not how, or why, or where. When. When Yael was a stranger in a strange land and Nocturnal saw the eagerness in her, and gave her first those magnificent golden wings, and then soon called her Ambassador. When they stood together against the Valley. When it became bigger than a kidnapped prince, they led the other Kingdoms together. That sort of beginning; that trust and admiration, well, it never left Yael. Even when Nocturnal fled her responsibilities and never looked back. Yael had always loved her flower-girl-Quark. But she loved the yellow and blue mare even more because Nocturnal loved her. Because she is family, and when you lose all your family the way Yael has, you learn to value them above all else. You learn to love them, even for their faults. You learn to forgive, even if you never forget.
Tarnished can think what he likes, but it is foolish to think that Yael never saw the truth of Nocturnal’s nature. Perhaps that is her greatest fault - that the golden woman is too forgiving, that her heart is three sizes too big to survive in B’kanna. Perhaps that is why Morphine saw that Magic was necessary to Yael’s survival.
Her toothy jaws part in a draconian smile, fire-filled gaze cooling to a deep purple, then blue, then light cerulean. Her speech hisses uncharacteristically in her mouth, adding to an already thick accent. “Eet xassss been too long, Tarneessssshed.” The past is well in the past. She moved on years ago. He is always welcome in the Desert, though she knows he’ll never pitch his tent here for more than a couple of weeks, max. So be it. “You ssssshould veessset usss more often. Vankisssssh vould essssspecially like eet.”
She hums in the back of her throat, a sort of purr, if you will, and shifts back to her horse form. If they’re going to talk, she might as well be comfortable. She inclines her fine-boned head and invites him to begin, listening intently to the emotion behind his confession. “I know, dear. Ahnd I xaf forgeeven xer for eet.” She pauses, and lowers her voice. “You could tell me. You could… show me. Or I could remove eet for you.” She could have done that ages ago, but a man’s pride is a fickle thing. Feelings are scary and imagined burdens always need to hefted on a single being’s shoulders until they become unbearable. And then they break.
She doesn’t want to see anyone break.
Tarnished can think what he likes, but it is foolish to think that Yael never saw the truth of Nocturnal’s nature. Perhaps that is her greatest fault - that the golden woman is too forgiving, that her heart is three sizes too big to survive in B’kanna. Perhaps that is why Morphine saw that Magic was necessary to Yael’s survival.
Her toothy jaws part in a draconian smile, fire-filled gaze cooling to a deep purple, then blue, then light cerulean. Her speech hisses uncharacteristically in her mouth, adding to an already thick accent. “Eet xassss been too long, Tarneessssshed.” The past is well in the past. She moved on years ago. He is always welcome in the Desert, though she knows he’ll never pitch his tent here for more than a couple of weeks, max. So be it. “You ssssshould veessset usss more often. Vankisssssh vould essssspecially like eet.”
She hums in the back of her throat, a sort of purr, if you will, and shifts back to her horse form. If they’re going to talk, she might as well be comfortable. She inclines her fine-boned head and invites him to begin, listening intently to the emotion behind his confession. “I know, dear. Ahnd I xaf forgeeven xer for eet.” She pauses, and lowers her voice. “You could tell me. You could… show me. Or I could remove eet for you.” She could have done that ages ago, but a man’s pride is a fickle thing. Feelings are scary and imagined burdens always need to hefted on a single being’s shoulders until they become unbearable. And then they break.
She doesn’t want to see anyone break.
Idk if she can do that, butttt yeah.