The power of a title has never appealed to Djinni. It is her privilege, of course, that makes her that way; why would a girl born to a king and his queen need to care about titles? She was already doubly a princess, born to lovers that were themselves the children of kings and queens. Her blood puts the sapphire sky overhead to shame; it's no wonder she had not thought twice when turning down her inheritance of the Desert.
Djinni does not mind when she is not recognized, does not care that her name is uncommon, does not savor the honorific of 'queen' that now precedes her name.
But power in small doses, the temptation of it, the way they salvor and beg as she dangles their dreams in front of them? That she adores. The thrill of it had been an balm to her suffering the moment she had found her missing djinn. When Charlemagne admits that she, too, had lost her magic, Djinni knows she has the pretty mare well and truly caught.
The moment Charlemagne steps forward and they touch, Djinni smiles. She had been smiling before, of course, but her clear eyes are hazier now, flecked with golden sand that spirals through her as she presses her dark muzzle to the soft spot below the other mare's jaw.
She is just as soft as Djinni had hoped, gives beneath her touch just as she'd imagined. The heat from their contact is more than physical though - she has heard Charlemagne's wish. The buckskin mare will feel it, a soft and furious implosion at the surface of her skin where magic is placed just out of her reach.
Djinni pulls her head away and seems to take the magic with her (though it is Beqanna, likely amused at her attempts but unwilling to rerun a gift that has not yet been earned), and when she presses another kiss a little lower on her neck, Charlemagne will feel the spark in both places. Again she pulls away, leaving only the fading heat of her mouth on yellow hide.
"What would you do for it?" She whispers into the beauty's ear. Her breath is cool, a contrast the the quick blaze of chicanery where her cheek brushes Charlemagne's ear. She'll feel it all three places now, burning with Djinni's touch and vanished entirely when they are not in contact.
The grullo mare takes a step away, her eyes cloudy with lust and sorcery. This game of give and take: this is what she needs. Something to take her mind and shut it away, something to box away the fretting and replace it with something that does not require thought at all. This is only physical, only temporary, but she touches her black nose once more to Charlemagne's to sweetly singe her with power the magician will feel but cannot control, and wills it to last long enough to scrub her memory.
At least for a little while.
Djinni does not mind when she is not recognized, does not care that her name is uncommon, does not savor the honorific of 'queen' that now precedes her name.
But power in small doses, the temptation of it, the way they salvor and beg as she dangles their dreams in front of them? That she adores. The thrill of it had been an balm to her suffering the moment she had found her missing djinn. When Charlemagne admits that she, too, had lost her magic, Djinni knows she has the pretty mare well and truly caught.
The moment Charlemagne steps forward and they touch, Djinni smiles. She had been smiling before, of course, but her clear eyes are hazier now, flecked with golden sand that spirals through her as she presses her dark muzzle to the soft spot below the other mare's jaw.
She is just as soft as Djinni had hoped, gives beneath her touch just as she'd imagined. The heat from their contact is more than physical though - she has heard Charlemagne's wish. The buckskin mare will feel it, a soft and furious implosion at the surface of her skin where magic is placed just out of her reach.
Djinni pulls her head away and seems to take the magic with her (though it is Beqanna, likely amused at her attempts but unwilling to rerun a gift that has not yet been earned), and when she presses another kiss a little lower on her neck, Charlemagne will feel the spark in both places. Again she pulls away, leaving only the fading heat of her mouth on yellow hide.
"What would you do for it?" She whispers into the beauty's ear. Her breath is cool, a contrast the the quick blaze of chicanery where her cheek brushes Charlemagne's ear. She'll feel it all three places now, burning with Djinni's touch and vanished entirely when they are not in contact.
The grullo mare takes a step away, her eyes cloudy with lust and sorcery. This game of give and take: this is what she needs. Something to take her mind and shut it away, something to box away the fretting and replace it with something that does not require thought at all. This is only physical, only temporary, but she touches her black nose once more to Charlemagne's to sweetly singe her with power the magician will feel but cannot control, and wills it to last long enough to scrub her memory.
At least for a little while.
D J I N N I
genie | rose gold tobiano dun | trickster