For a womb so bare, Pevensie has borne the responsibility of many children. She rules alongside one of them now, by some unusual chain of events. The idea of a it all makes her sigh a tired sigh - at least with Camrynn as her co-Queen, she can keep an eye on one of them. Her most dangerous child at that. That, however, doesn't bring her much comfort when she thinks back over the fate of the rest. Some, surely, must now be dead. Mortality is a bitch, after all.
The rest? Well, she has no idea and no means of contacting them. She could probably ask the black-Queen, ask her to perform some magic trick and seek them out, but if they wanted to be found then surely they would have come. You can't get much more visible than ruling a kingdom.
She is not considering her children this morning by the oasis though, rather mulling over politics in her head. Though, between these thoughts, the image of the Tundra-stallion keeps pushing forward, interrupting her thoughts with his lean muscles and rather pleasing physique. She shakes out her mane, trying to focus again. She hasn't lived sixty-five years to be distracted by the thoughts of a filly in heat! I dare say, she might not have made it very far indeed if that was all she thought of, or perhaps a lot further a lot quicker.
Either way, what does clear her thoughts completely is the sight of a purple mare beside the oasis. Her eyes widen. She dare not blink, encase the illusion should disappear and fade away. "Azlyn," she breathes, the words leaving her mouth softly like a spell. Indeed, the thought of her purple daughter has truly enchanted her. She trips forward, her legs tangled in the sand, sending a cloud of it high into the air as she darts forward at a fast canter.
She hasn't moved this fast in years! Her legs ache with the effort. Azlyn is not alone, she has two horses by her side! The sun-mare glides toward them, as if her third birthday had only just passed. She beams, physically glowing with her excitement, happiness, pure bliss at the thought of being renewed with her naughty little purple daughter.
"Azlyn! I am so glad to see you," she exclaims, barely stopping in time not to crash into them all. She quickly locks her dear girl into a hug, looping her neck over that of her girl with some effort (for, like many other horses, the purple mare is far taller than her little pony mother). She pulls back, still on the brink of tears of joy. "And who are these two?"
