Despite being well into adulthood (in years, it not mental maturity) Djinni has never borne any children. While she finds them appealing, the thought of having to carry – and then raise! – another creature is not something she’s ever been interested in. Her mother had always said that once she met the right mate and settled down, that children wouldn’t seem so bad. Djinni remains doubtful.
Her well-meaning probe into Raxa’s backstory is met with tilted ears and a scowl, but Djinni has already decided that she and Raza should be friends, so when the brindle mare turns to walk away, Djinni follows.
“That was rude,” she says, but there is no malice in her voice or expression. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”
The idea that Raxa – who besides her pretty coloring seems the very definition of ‘normal’ in Beqanna – wasn’t welcome wherever it was that she’d come from seems laughable to Djinni. There is no normalcy here, not in a land where horses can fly with the birds, swim underwater, and breathe fire. “You look perfectly normal to me,” Djinni adds. As she says it, her bulky chestnut build begins to shrink in size and fade in color, until she is the perfect mirror of Raxa beside her.
“This is you.” She says, pausing to gesture down at herself (well, technically now at Raxa’s self, but that doesn’t matter). “I think you look quite nice.”
“Although… I probably wouldn’t have been normal where you came from, would I?” Perhaps Raxa is from a place where horses lack traits. Djinni has been to such places, but she finds them rather dull. She’s been cursed as a witch and a demon in a few of those lands. “You can be as strange as you’d like here and still be welcome.”