drink thy poison lightly; any [deserts competition meet & greet]

[Engelsfors]

Drink thy poison lightly dear, ♦♢♦ The beginnings of a great monarch, is when nothing stirs within the boundaries that they do not know about. Sinews pull taut within my jaw, a slight grind of ivory teeth. I am doubting I am mulling the borders, there would not be such a haven, a paradise so close to strangers. My azure orbs scan the land - rolling dunes of sand, miniscule grains that slip through your hooves like the grains in a sand timer. My eyes drink in all, the large tree being one purposely grained in my mind. The gentle pulse in the It makes my nerves flutter, my mind fully alive. There are thing  untouched within this realm, to the residents, they know all, but to a mere stranger like I, it is cracking open a luscious Apple and revealing the tender whit  flesh, the ideas and notions grip my mind with sturdy fingers then, I am drifting  Rom my job at hand. And now, my job starts. The buckling lady is worthy of attention, the way an  holds herself, it is with an air of confidence, she has travelled these sandy dunes far more times than I, and with it comes veteran expertise. She sinks and slides like the sand and her are merged. My eye  lock into her, she has another air, an elegance of a lark, gentle, tender. When she speaks, my lips twist into a smooth smile. Kindly met, my lady. my tone is saccharine, sweet like the fruits from tree, yet  husky as the wind whipping through valleys and ripping everything in it  path. I draw my gaze then to the small bundle that rests behind the creamy mare. The smile twitches on my lips - they say that the future is in the hooves of the little ones. Perhaps they are right, perhaps they are wrong. The pleasure is mine, my lady. Thank you. I acknowledge her offer of shade and take it gratifyingly. The suns warmth slides over my golden skin and slips against each codebase, burden on  me with patches of perspiration. I dip my nose, link muzzle twisting. Engelsfors, of the Chamber. I have come for the competitions. I offer her my reasoning behind  being here, so that I was neither threat not foe. My eyes settle on the young  one, watch in  her with a new intrigue. I'm still young  myself, I cannot picture children in my immediate future - yet I had never pictured myself settling so well in the ash scarred chamber, as I have. My gaze shifts the tree, such a strange commodity to have grace the sandy backdrop. My curiosity gets th  better, and with black magic and intrigue in my voice, I beckon for mysteries. I must ask, my lady. The tree. It seems rather out of place... and yet not. As though it's meant to be here. There is significance, no? one gets nowhere in life if one does not ask questions. ♦♢♦ there are deeper and darker things than you; professor of the chamber

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