05-02-2015, 12:25 AM
so you wanna play with magic?
How can he know that she hears everything? How can he possibly understand what she really is? He doesn't even suspect it, so strange is the whole thing to him. She knows that it must be introduced gently, carefully, and that she must not overstep her bounds. It is strange to her, to find that she wants to have him as a friend; a new sensation, and not one that she's entirely sure how to interpret.
He touches her, more a product of his own attempts to deal with the new shifts in their relationship than anything else. He is anxious, he is unsure, she can feel it as easily as she can see it. But for all the things she usually is, for all the deceptions she's been known to weave, in this instance, this one instance, she has actually tried to do right. By him, and in all her doings since she'd left him. And she is grateful when he is willing to see. Her lily – the calla lily – blossoms on his breast, a counterpart to her royal mark, and she smiles. It is small and tight, and her eyes are still shadowed, but she knows that it is a beginning.
And in the blink of an eye, they stand within the same field, watching as filly-Cammie leaves him after promising to show him the kingdoms one day.
"We're visitors, observers here. We can't be seen or heard, and we can't change events." She smiles a little. "It's nowhere near as artistic as what you do, but it gets the job done." she says, looking at him with a half smile. Filly Cammie returns to the Jungle, where she is approached by Scorch. Pledge yourself to the jungle, the mare asks, and become great. Cammie obliges. And then Scorch reveals the details: that Cammie is to go to the Deserts, to compete in their crown tournament as a sworn representative of the jungle. Cammie is to hide her Amazons tattoos, to trade on the time she's spent in the Deserts, to present as a native of the Deserts.
The tournament starts almost immediately. There is no time to do anything but head to the Deserts. "I had to leave immediately." she explains, her voice sad. "Scorch sent me." Not that it ended up mattering, she thinks.
The next moment, they stand within the Deserts, competitors pressed around them, the goddess Isis rising before them. Cammie steps forward, drinks from the purple liquid – and the next moment the two of them are observing Camrynn, the pure black mare with no tattoos, no markings whatsoever. Bergamot can feel her awe at being in the presence of Isis, her knowledge that this is infinitely more than she had ever imagined the competition would be. And he can feel the way she is certain that Isis knows everything, including why she had been sent there. The rest of the competition whirls past like a movie on fast-forward: the questions of Isis, Camrynn's statement to Isis that no kingdom of hers would ever be subject to another kingdom, her journey through the wastelands of the underworld and the way that Bergamot had been one of the voices that had whispered to her. He sees the magnificent throne room of the underworld god, the way she handles herself so brilliantly when the god simulates her into queenship, and the return to the Deserts with a gilded crook and flail upon her chest. He sees the final riddle, her answer – because truly, no one deserves a crown, the best they can do is earn it.
And finally, the fast forwarding stops as a quiet Camrynn swears to the gods that she will serve the Deserts faithfully, on pain of losing her magic. And the scene freezes as she turns to Bergamot.
"I am magic, Bergamot." she whispers gently, carefully into his mind, her eyes fixed on him. "If my powers have limits, I haven't found them yet." she says it simply, gently, a statement of fact rather than a brag. She is prideful with others, she plays others for the fool, she will dive down to the greatest depths a mare can reach – but not with Bergamot. Never with him.
"So yes, I can hear you. But I try not to listen, unless you want me to." and it's true. She may be terribly capricious about what she does with so many others, but he's one of the few exceptions.
She looks away, and the world turns again. It is a mass of diplomatic meetings, with her kingdom, with Scorch (and oh, if he thought she was terrifying before, what would he think of her as the dragon-mare, her words like barbs to Yael and Pevensie and Camrynn alike?) And finally, he sees the kingdom business quiet at last, and he sees her come to him, knowing she'll find him when she does.
And then the past dissolves into the present, the meadow noisy around them. She has shown him her greatest pride and her greatest secret (although it's rapidly becoming one of the worst kept secrets in Beqanna). "You're the first horse I've told." she confesses, somewhat sheepishly, her eyes downcast. "The other magicians just know, and others have kind of…figured out, but you're the first one I've told." her eyes raise slowly to meet his gaze. "I'm sorry I didn't come back sooner. But I hope maybe you can see why." she whispers delicately into his mind.
And then, she is silent. It's his turn now.
He touches her, more a product of his own attempts to deal with the new shifts in their relationship than anything else. He is anxious, he is unsure, she can feel it as easily as she can see it. But for all the things she usually is, for all the deceptions she's been known to weave, in this instance, this one instance, she has actually tried to do right. By him, and in all her doings since she'd left him. And she is grateful when he is willing to see. Her lily – the calla lily – blossoms on his breast, a counterpart to her royal mark, and she smiles. It is small and tight, and her eyes are still shadowed, but she knows that it is a beginning.
And in the blink of an eye, they stand within the same field, watching as filly-Cammie leaves him after promising to show him the kingdoms one day.
"We're visitors, observers here. We can't be seen or heard, and we can't change events." She smiles a little. "It's nowhere near as artistic as what you do, but it gets the job done." she says, looking at him with a half smile. Filly Cammie returns to the Jungle, where she is approached by Scorch. Pledge yourself to the jungle, the mare asks, and become great. Cammie obliges. And then Scorch reveals the details: that Cammie is to go to the Deserts, to compete in their crown tournament as a sworn representative of the jungle. Cammie is to hide her Amazons tattoos, to trade on the time she's spent in the Deserts, to present as a native of the Deserts.
The tournament starts almost immediately. There is no time to do anything but head to the Deserts. "I had to leave immediately." she explains, her voice sad. "Scorch sent me." Not that it ended up mattering, she thinks.
The next moment, they stand within the Deserts, competitors pressed around them, the goddess Isis rising before them. Cammie steps forward, drinks from the purple liquid – and the next moment the two of them are observing Camrynn, the pure black mare with no tattoos, no markings whatsoever. Bergamot can feel her awe at being in the presence of Isis, her knowledge that this is infinitely more than she had ever imagined the competition would be. And he can feel the way she is certain that Isis knows everything, including why she had been sent there. The rest of the competition whirls past like a movie on fast-forward: the questions of Isis, Camrynn's statement to Isis that no kingdom of hers would ever be subject to another kingdom, her journey through the wastelands of the underworld and the way that Bergamot had been one of the voices that had whispered to her. He sees the magnificent throne room of the underworld god, the way she handles herself so brilliantly when the god simulates her into queenship, and the return to the Deserts with a gilded crook and flail upon her chest. He sees the final riddle, her answer – because truly, no one deserves a crown, the best they can do is earn it.
And finally, the fast forwarding stops as a quiet Camrynn swears to the gods that she will serve the Deserts faithfully, on pain of losing her magic. And the scene freezes as she turns to Bergamot.
"I am magic, Bergamot." she whispers gently, carefully into his mind, her eyes fixed on him. "If my powers have limits, I haven't found them yet." she says it simply, gently, a statement of fact rather than a brag. She is prideful with others, she plays others for the fool, she will dive down to the greatest depths a mare can reach – but not with Bergamot. Never with him.
"So yes, I can hear you. But I try not to listen, unless you want me to." and it's true. She may be terribly capricious about what she does with so many others, but he's one of the few exceptions.
She looks away, and the world turns again. It is a mass of diplomatic meetings, with her kingdom, with Scorch (and oh, if he thought she was terrifying before, what would he think of her as the dragon-mare, her words like barbs to Yael and Pevensie and Camrynn alike?) And finally, he sees the kingdom business quiet at last, and he sees her come to him, knowing she'll find him when she does.
And then the past dissolves into the present, the meadow noisy around them. She has shown him her greatest pride and her greatest secret (although it's rapidly becoming one of the worst kept secrets in Beqanna). "You're the first horse I've told." she confesses, somewhat sheepishly, her eyes downcast. "The other magicians just know, and others have kind of…figured out, but you're the first one I've told." her eyes raise slowly to meet his gaze. "I'm sorry I didn't come back sooner. But I hope maybe you can see why." she whispers delicately into his mind.
And then, she is silent. It's his turn now.
CAMRYNN
co-queen of the deserts, magical, mother of badassery