Thoughts of Sylva had kept her busy of late, though it pains her to admit it. It seems like only moments ago she’d laughed at the thought of running a kingdom, and yet she is well into her second year as a monarch. Djinni is the very picture of reluctant status.
She has never wanted status, not when she already has power.
Even with the acknowledgement of that uncomfortable truth, Djinni still enjoys talking about the land of Sylva. The blazing forest has begun to set its roots in her heart. “Sylva is mostly forest, full of very old trees that stay covered in the colors of autumn year round.” Their winters and summers are mild; there are no environmental dangers in the burning woods. “There aren’t many residents; just enough to keep us a kingdom.” She smiles at that, picturing the residents.
Her expression fades a little as her companion tosses his head and even more so when the sad little smile on his mouth appears. Djinni almost says something, but just before she opens her mouth, he speaks again. With a puff of golden sand that is barely there before it is gone again, Djinni is a little older than she had seemed – a mare in her prime rather than one just cresting adulthood. Her eyes remain a soft sea green as she says: “This is me.”
“And what is Tephra like?” She asks in reply to his earlier admission. For a moment it seems she will leave it there, keep their conversation casual. Then she asks: “Unless you’d rather talk about your home?”