04-06-2015, 04:22 PM
 Because we can. She listens to Osiris with mute attention, knowing that she isn't meant to answer – she would not dare step out of line, not here, not in front of a god. She knows he could peer into her mind if he wanted to. He could see that she wanted this for the Deserts, and for herself – she sought the crown because, above all, she is curious to know whether she could, in fact, help bring the kingdom back to strength. She suspects it, she feels it in her bones, that on her shoulders and the shoulders of the other horses in the Desert, the kingdom could rise again like a phoenix. But she does not know – and she needs to find out. Her eyes are serious when he warns her not to make a fool of him. She would never, could never – mortals are one thing, gods are something entirely different. And then she is back, by the oasis, alone. She feels the crook and flail etch themselves into her chest, pulling the meaning of them from some deep-buried memory of one of those who worshipped these gods long ago. The crook and flail together are the trappings of kings. It can't be a bad omen, she hopes. Back in the world of the living, her magic returns to her in full force, and she appears now as the same black filly she was when she first met Isis. She is slightly older now, slightly taller, a yearling rather than a foal. There is slightly more grey to her coat, a hint that she will soon become white. And across her chest, blazoned proud in gold, the crook and flail stand out like sunshine. It is then that she notices the god beneath the tree, and she recognizes him immediately. Thoth, the god of wisdom – wisest of all gods. Oh how she longs to go to him, to throw herself by his feet, to ask him everything he knows. Surely he knows the answer to so many questions – but she does not rush to him. She knows that it is not her place, that it would ruin everything. And so, she waits. When Pevensie and Lucrezia join her, she is not surprised. She gives Pevensie a small smile and a gentle bump with her nose, hoping that her adopted mother will recognize her despite the changes. She gives Lucrezia a smile as well – she has no way of knowing what they have been through, but she can only assume that if they are here, then they've gone through at least as much as she. To comfort, to reassure, is all she can do for them now. He speaks, and she listens with complete attention. It is a fitting third test for them – a riddle, or really, two riddles. She believes him completely when he speaks of death; what is it to a god, to kill a mortal? It is nothing. And she believes that it applies to her; her magic is nothing in the face of what the gods bring to bear. She does not attempt to probe the boxes, does not attempt to use her magic to aid her. She understands that this task, like all the others, is something that her magic could not help her with, and it would be an insult to the rules of the game if she were to even try. She takes a half step forward, ready to be the first to answer. "The egg came first." she answers with quiet confidence, her voice light and yet unwavering. Her eyes are fixed on the god. "A chicken is an animal that has feathers, a beak, wings, and lays eggs." she says, wondering if the other two would even know what the animal was. "In order to define the chicken as we know it, we must first know the egg." She inhales for a moment, not nervous, but determined and deliberate in her speech. "Without laying eggs, a chicken is not a chicken."She pauses for just a moment. "But the reverse is not true for the egg. It is not a defining characteristic of an egg that it is laid by a chicken. There are many other animals that lay eggs as well - the snakes of the Deserts, the ducks and other birds all around the Meadow, and no doubt many more beyond the borders of Beqanna. Eggs are not found only with chickens." she pauses again. "Without an egg, there is no chicken, but without a chicken, there would still be eggs." she takes a breath, her eyes still fixed on the god. "Therefore, the egg came first. In order to have a chicken, we must have an egg." And now it is time for the second task. She inhales slowly, aware of the risk of death. But it does not frighten her; she is resigned to it, has accepted it as a possible outcome. She would not wish for it, but to die at the hands of a god, participating in something like this, after all of the experiences she has had since she first sipped the purple liquid offered by Isis? It is a death she could accept. No, she is not driven by fear as she considers the god's riddle. Instead, she is driven by desire. She must know if she can make the vision she has for the Deserts – the vision of strength, of greatness – come true. "Choose me and obtain what many desire." she decides to consider them each in turn. She approaches the box, coming a bit closer to it as she thinks aloud. "Many desire many things. Some no doubt desire a crown, but I'd bet equally many desire death." she thinks of those who have been tortured, those who hate their lives – they desire nothing more than death. She rules out that box. "Choose me and risk all you have." She considers the second box in turn for a moment. "Risking all that you have could lead to death." she pauses. "But it is a risk, not a guarantee." In her heart, she feels that this is the right box – that a ruler must risk all that they have, put everything on the line in order to serve their people. For all that she may have been a wanderer, may not have pledged her loyalty, she's an astute student. She's traveled the world, and she's learned what makes leaders great. And the one characteristic, the one trait that always pulls through, is that they lead with everything they have. But she is not so hasty as to rule out the last box. She turns to it now. "Choose me and get what you deserve." She pauses again, her tail floating gently in the breeze. "No one can deserve a crown before they hold it." She speaks with confidence. "A crown is something to be earned, something that you can deserve only through your actions and through your service." She looks away from the boxes, up toward the god at his desk. Purposefully, decided, she moves toward the second box, the one that reads "Choose me and risk all you have." She looks him in the eye, standing above the box. "A good king or queen is willing to risk all that they have for the good of their people. Even if they never need to, they are willing." She speaks, and her voice is laced with gentle determination. "I choose this box. And I choose to risk all that I have." She touches the box gently with her soft muzzle, and then returns her gaze to the god. If he looks into her mind, he will see she means it – she does not mean merely that she risks her life, but that she risks her magic, her essence, the very core of her being. She has decided her course, decided that she will pledge herself to the Deserts in body, mind, and spirit. When she entered this contest, she may have done so because she didn't feel like refusing Scorch. But as soon as she found herself answering to Isis, she had begun to consider what might happen if she had actually won. What could a kingdom become? What heights could be reached with her at the helm? This is her curiosity, her insatiable search for knowledge, and it leads her to the absolute certainty, to the ultimate commitment. She whispers, just low enough for the god to hear. "If I fail in my commitment, in my duty," her voice is almost lost to the wind, "May you gods take my magic as my punishment." And she has done it. She has chosen to risk all that she has – because for her, magic is all that she has, all that she's ever wanted, her entire self. Not her life, her magic. She is serious. She is decided. She is silent. C A M R Y N N Why? Because I can Image copyright MariannaInsomnia |