I am a lioness, I will not cringe.
And so the years had passed just as quickly beneath the blanket of dirt and rubble as it had above it the silver lioness had discovered. It had seemed like only a few days ago that she dissipated into the fog after the battle in the Chamber, since she had spent her energy as a dragon, a lion, a warrior (though she had always been such) but in reality perhaps even a decade had passed. Lagertha had told her to rest, however long it took, although she was the Queen when she left Prague didn't truly serve anyone spare the Jungle itself - she just had those whom she felt akin with. Her plan was to travel slowly back among the living, perhaps stop and watch those of which she knew and catch up on the stories of the land before appearing but Beqanna had something else in mind.
She is propelled forward to the meadow, stumbles and falls - her knees ache and tuffs of dark gray hair float on the gust of wind throughout the meadow. She watched it glide up and away from her and to two others, an itch told her to head that way but for some reason she couldn't pluck thoughts from their heads. She couldn't feel others around her before seeing them, although the silver lioness rarely used her magic (and when she did, it was mostly used for the greater good) she felt a slight paranoia. How many people wanted her dead? At the very least maimed? A few she could think of and knowing that made her hair stand up a little, she had made some equally powerful enemies in the last war and who's to say her magic was absorbed by them? Surely not...she was one of the oldest magicians walking Beqanna. It is with that thought that she travels forward and hears the two speaking of magic and favors, she can't process the entire conversation because she is too far away...but not for long. As she steps closer the male seems to disappear, she looks upon the navy mare and her mind first thinks of her outcast child; Kimber but alas there is no ombre and no fury lashed at the sight of Prague.
Sigh of relief
The alabaster mare comes closer to the navy mare, her dark forelock brushing out of her face as she quickly scans the mare as she circles to face her. "In my experience, magic is never easily restored - the price for it far outweighs the benefit...but I was born with mine and never had to barter," she cooly rumbles off, a certain prowess about her, "I'm Prague, what exactly is it you're wanting and what's new in Beqanna? Ancient ones like me tend to sleep for years after becoming dragons." Although the lioness wasn't sure how much the mare knew of her or about her, if anything, she wouldn't elude to be missing her own magic; not yet. You must play the game wise or you will inevitably get burned.
p r a g u e
ancient woman of the amazons