06-12-2015, 02:41 PM
Beauty had never gotten her anywhere in Beqanna, and nor would it ever. Not that she wasn’t beautiful. Straia was, though in a way far different from the mare in the field. Straia had a wild beauty about her, the kind that comes from those that don’t know (or simply don’t care, in Straia’s case), that they are beautiful. She is curved and delicate in the right places from her Arabian heritage, yet still just large enough to be somewhat intimidating from her mothers more hybrid side. Her black and white mane hung long and haphazardly on both sides of her neck. Her eyes were simple and brown, not quite her father’s nutmeg, but there’s a mischievous and clever gleam to them.
But the only thing in Beqanna that gets you anywhere is either a) good blood or b) hard work. Straia had both good blood and worked her ass off. The combination of which lead to where she was now, Queen of the Chamber, still out recruiting as much as possible. Being Queen didn’t mean she stopped doing things like recruiting. It meant she kept going, just as much if not more than everyone else in her kingdom. She expected them to live up to the standards she set (and one day, find the horse that surpassed her to take her place). If her own standards were low, what could she expect of anyone else?
So that’s why she’s here. Again. Looking around the field until she spots the glossy, pristine version of beauty. She contemplates not going over, truthfully, because a mare like that may not enjoy the occasional streak of ash on her pelt from the burnt trees. There’s was less ash than previous years, closer to the disaster that destroyed the Chamber. But still, despite all the regrowth, they were not entirely healed yet. Straia herself usually has at least a bit of ash somewhere, but she’s always in the pine forests when she can be. Whatever ash is left clings to the trees, as she does. The center of the kingdom is relatively clear.
But she decides that she doesn’t know this mare at all, and perhaps she groomed herself for the occasion of home-hunting. Maybe she wouldn’t mind a bit of ash. So Straia makes her way over with a nicker to warn of her approach and a slight nod of her head. Not overly friendly or bubbly, but polite enough. This is the field, and she is trying to win horses over to the Chamber, after all. “Straia, from the Chamber,” she offers, her voice smoky. “May I ask your name?”
But the only thing in Beqanna that gets you anywhere is either a) good blood or b) hard work. Straia had both good blood and worked her ass off. The combination of which lead to where she was now, Queen of the Chamber, still out recruiting as much as possible. Being Queen didn’t mean she stopped doing things like recruiting. It meant she kept going, just as much if not more than everyone else in her kingdom. She expected them to live up to the standards she set (and one day, find the horse that surpassed her to take her place). If her own standards were low, what could she expect of anyone else?
So that’s why she’s here. Again. Looking around the field until she spots the glossy, pristine version of beauty. She contemplates not going over, truthfully, because a mare like that may not enjoy the occasional streak of ash on her pelt from the burnt trees. There’s was less ash than previous years, closer to the disaster that destroyed the Chamber. But still, despite all the regrowth, they were not entirely healed yet. Straia herself usually has at least a bit of ash somewhere, but she’s always in the pine forests when she can be. Whatever ash is left clings to the trees, as she does. The center of the kingdom is relatively clear.
But she decides that she doesn’t know this mare at all, and perhaps she groomed herself for the occasion of home-hunting. Maybe she wouldn’t mind a bit of ash. So Straia makes her way over with a nicker to warn of her approach and a slight nod of her head. Not overly friendly or bubbly, but polite enough. This is the field, and she is trying to win horses over to the Chamber, after all. “Straia, from the Chamber,” she offers, her voice smoky. “May I ask your name?”
straia
queen of the chamber