07-12-2015, 06:45 PM
so you wanna play with magic?
Above all things, Camrynn likes control.
And in the entirety of her long life, it's been a rare thing for her not to be in control. Even time itself bends to her will, to her magic. The few exceptions have, generally speaking, been those whose power is absolutely equivalent to her own: other magic users like Eight, Evrae, Anaxarete, Yael, and Jason. They can do everything she can do, and so it seems almost asinine to expect to have control over them. She is fascinated by them, and seeks kinship with them, and so seeks them out.
She is far less comfortable with a single horse being able to thwart and manipulate what she considers to be her magic.
Oh yes, she'd known when he had come to Beqanna. She'd felt him like a disturbance in the force, a stranger so impossibly strange. And when she'd looked a little deeper, she'd learned what power he possessed, and she had instantly made a point to stay far away from him. She wanted no part of losing control over her own magic. She wanted nothing to do with a stallion who could twist her magic to his own ends, with little ability on her part to control it. In short, she did not want to lose control – not to a stallion who was not otherwise equally powerful, at least.
She had wanted none of this, true enough, but it had found her anyway.
It was finding her even now, as it walked across the sand dunes within her kingdom. It was finding her more and more with every step, driving closer and closer to the range where it would be able to twist her magic. Slipping down her sand-hills, drinking at her oasis. Here, in the heart of the Deserts.
Secluded far away, Camrynn flicks her tail in annoyance. She did not want anything to do with Weir, but he was here, in the Deserts, for the competition, and it seems that her other diplomats are busy elsewhere and it falls to her to greet him. She grits her teeth. She is not accustomed to doing things she doesn't want to do, least of all this.
She decides against appearing next to him. In fact, she decides that the best course of action is to simply refrain from using magic at all when around him. If she doesn't do anything with her power, he can't twist it around on her. And so she does something she hasn't done in a very long time: she walks.
She walks from the far out dunes, using her magic to keep herself cool and pristine as usual, dimming it only when she comes to the range where she suspects his magic manipulation works. Gnashing her teeth once more, she puts on her best queenly face and moves to greet him.
Even without her magic, she is beautiful. Pure black, free of any markings or scars. Shapely, tall but not too tall, she seems to shimmer in the Desert heat. Across her chest a gilded crook and flail stand out proud against the black. On her left cheek a trail of diamonds and other precious stones traces down like a necklace. And her eyes – well, normally they'd be some dramatic shade of rainbow, but today they're a color they've never been: the color she was born with, a shifting rainbow that is all colors and no colors all at once.
And so she stands at the oasis beside him, her magic dormant like a coiled snake, which she will resist the urge to use for the duration that he is nearby. Hiding her emotions with a timeless mastery, she offers the roan a small smile. "Welcome to the Deserts. I'm Queen Camrynn." Her voice is like liquid velvet, smooth and rich as chocolate. "Have you come for the mocks?"
And in the entirety of her long life, it's been a rare thing for her not to be in control. Even time itself bends to her will, to her magic. The few exceptions have, generally speaking, been those whose power is absolutely equivalent to her own: other magic users like Eight, Evrae, Anaxarete, Yael, and Jason. They can do everything she can do, and so it seems almost asinine to expect to have control over them. She is fascinated by them, and seeks kinship with them, and so seeks them out.
She is far less comfortable with a single horse being able to thwart and manipulate what she considers to be her magic.
Oh yes, she'd known when he had come to Beqanna. She'd felt him like a disturbance in the force, a stranger so impossibly strange. And when she'd looked a little deeper, she'd learned what power he possessed, and she had instantly made a point to stay far away from him. She wanted no part of losing control over her own magic. She wanted nothing to do with a stallion who could twist her magic to his own ends, with little ability on her part to control it. In short, she did not want to lose control – not to a stallion who was not otherwise equally powerful, at least.
She had wanted none of this, true enough, but it had found her anyway.
It was finding her even now, as it walked across the sand dunes within her kingdom. It was finding her more and more with every step, driving closer and closer to the range where it would be able to twist her magic. Slipping down her sand-hills, drinking at her oasis. Here, in the heart of the Deserts.
Secluded far away, Camrynn flicks her tail in annoyance. She did not want anything to do with Weir, but he was here, in the Deserts, for the competition, and it seems that her other diplomats are busy elsewhere and it falls to her to greet him. She grits her teeth. She is not accustomed to doing things she doesn't want to do, least of all this.
She decides against appearing next to him. In fact, she decides that the best course of action is to simply refrain from using magic at all when around him. If she doesn't do anything with her power, he can't twist it around on her. And so she does something she hasn't done in a very long time: she walks.
She walks from the far out dunes, using her magic to keep herself cool and pristine as usual, dimming it only when she comes to the range where she suspects his magic manipulation works. Gnashing her teeth once more, she puts on her best queenly face and moves to greet him.
Even without her magic, she is beautiful. Pure black, free of any markings or scars. Shapely, tall but not too tall, she seems to shimmer in the Desert heat. Across her chest a gilded crook and flail stand out proud against the black. On her left cheek a trail of diamonds and other precious stones traces down like a necklace. And her eyes – well, normally they'd be some dramatic shade of rainbow, but today they're a color they've never been: the color she was born with, a shifting rainbow that is all colors and no colors all at once.
And so she stands at the oasis beside him, her magic dormant like a coiled snake, which she will resist the urge to use for the duration that he is nearby. Hiding her emotions with a timeless mastery, she offers the roan a small smile. "Welcome to the Deserts. I'm Queen Camrynn." Her voice is like liquid velvet, smooth and rich as chocolate. "Have you come for the mocks?"
CAMRYNN
co-queen of the deserts, magical, mother of badassery