she was powerful not because she wasn't scared,
but because she went on strongly despite her fear.
but because she went on strongly despite her fear.
What solution would you find on the shore? Maerys had no explanation that she felt was compelling enough for the mare. It was conviction and doubt; her thoughts a thick ball yarn. Some of the textile was untangled and useable, but the rest persisted as impenetrable mayhem. The knot felt infinite and at most times unyielding, a more prominent force than that which is free to be used. What answer could she offer the mare that would satisfy such an interrogative when what she knew didn't even comfort herself? Isra's question felt so much deeper than a relic - no, it felt deeper than this island or anything Maerys had experienced in the past days. How could she answer another one's questions when her own inquiries lingered like bitter aftertaste on her tongue? The girl had too many questions and few too little answers to be able to properly give the unicorn the words she desired. Her mauve eyes watch the bay mare with a torn expression - like charging steeds pulling in opposing directions. To choose one direction was to drop the other in its entirety; she could not choose one thought over the other. Torn between this and that, all she can quietly say is "where else wouldst one scour?" before finally admitting her thoughts on a solution - "conceivably one does not exist." Perhaps she was wrong, but she didn't believe Isra cared about the relic, she fretted about more influential things. The silver-haired child knew not even a drop of what Isra wanted to hear and could not offer her a second of comfort. With all of her iron-clad heart, Maerys knew the bay sovereign would find no answers here.
It was Isra, not Boudika, who vocalized when Maerys volunteered her opinion on the specific terminology used. She taught that mine is not the having of something, but rather a profound love for something. Mine is when you would die for it. Mine. The language of love and trust was like that, possessive. Maerys had always forbidden herself from becoming possessive as it was never how she yearned to live or be treated. She would never face Vradara and say you are mine so she would never turn to others and call Vradara hers, no matter the context. The girl comprehended what the mare alluded to very well, but made no vocalization in agreement or disagreement. Rather, she nodded her head with a quiet understanding of the words she had been offered even if she didn't wholly agree.
It was then that the ocean breathed harder, her surface crescendoed and diminuendoed with rhythmic ease - a pulsing reverberation of the heartbeats of those she kept protected in her bassinet of brine - before parting and birthing something more prominent than all of them combined. Grand and beautiful, it was a dragon of a vastly different variety than Vradara. He was sketched from the colors of the sea, and in many ways, she assumed he acted like the mar. The sea took her cue from the breeze, in soothing zephyrs she caressed the shore with salted lips of cerulean, but when violent clouds would come, her wind-torn summits would strike the bank and stone with resolute wrath. Maerys could only imagine the hulking dragon in the same way; clearly he meant no harm, but Maerys would be a fool to assume he wouldn't attack her if she did something that warranted it.
Not for the first time on this day, Maerys was left with no words.
They introduced themselves as Isra and Boudika (the sea dragon remained nameless now). Both were kind as they declared it is a pleasure and nice to meet one another and it draws a timid smile from the girl's lips now. Her mind was still a surging perplexity as pleasantries were exchanged until her attention was drawn from the dragons and conversation as Boudika inquired about Isra's magic, something Maerys had failed to note prior. In the sand adjacent to her hooves, the ground had begun to morph into something new. It was a glimpse of metal at first, the grey of iron and ore - not uniform, but instead a patina of many shades, before it expanded into something less subtle. The hardening and greying seemed almost fraudulent as the ground morphed from one thing to another and it was with reverence and admiration Maerys watched the transition.
Boudika seemed transfixed on the boundaries of the magic - can you turn something living? The image of her flesh and bones being warped by the strong twist of magic into stone was frightening to the child, but Boudika seemed absolutely fascinated with it. Maerys did not understand the full capabilities of Isra's magic; she didn't recognize that it wasn't just substance to iron, but rather one thing to any other thing. Despite the question the mare asked, Maerys found herself wondering about something different than Boudika. She questioned the timeline of it all. "Has't thee at each moment been able to reconstruct?" Was Isra born with such powers or did she acquire them as many Maerys knew had? Maerys herself had always wanted to obtain magical capabilities, but she had yet to be granted with such an opportunity. It was not jealousy that flowed through her veins now, but something else.
It was awe and wonder, and nothing truer could be said.
It was Isra, not Boudika, who vocalized when Maerys volunteered her opinion on the specific terminology used. She taught that mine is not the having of something, but rather a profound love for something. Mine is when you would die for it. Mine. The language of love and trust was like that, possessive. Maerys had always forbidden herself from becoming possessive as it was never how she yearned to live or be treated. She would never face Vradara and say you are mine so she would never turn to others and call Vradara hers, no matter the context. The girl comprehended what the mare alluded to very well, but made no vocalization in agreement or disagreement. Rather, she nodded her head with a quiet understanding of the words she had been offered even if she didn't wholly agree.
It was then that the ocean breathed harder, her surface crescendoed and diminuendoed with rhythmic ease - a pulsing reverberation of the heartbeats of those she kept protected in her bassinet of brine - before parting and birthing something more prominent than all of them combined. Grand and beautiful, it was a dragon of a vastly different variety than Vradara. He was sketched from the colors of the sea, and in many ways, she assumed he acted like the mar. The sea took her cue from the breeze, in soothing zephyrs she caressed the shore with salted lips of cerulean, but when violent clouds would come, her wind-torn summits would strike the bank and stone with resolute wrath. Maerys could only imagine the hulking dragon in the same way; clearly he meant no harm, but Maerys would be a fool to assume he wouldn't attack her if she did something that warranted it.
Not for the first time on this day, Maerys was left with no words.
They introduced themselves as Isra and Boudika (the sea dragon remained nameless now). Both were kind as they declared it is a pleasure and nice to meet one another and it draws a timid smile from the girl's lips now. Her mind was still a surging perplexity as pleasantries were exchanged until her attention was drawn from the dragons and conversation as Boudika inquired about Isra's magic, something Maerys had failed to note prior. In the sand adjacent to her hooves, the ground had begun to morph into something new. It was a glimpse of metal at first, the grey of iron and ore - not uniform, but instead a patina of many shades, before it expanded into something less subtle. The hardening and greying seemed almost fraudulent as the ground morphed from one thing to another and it was with reverence and admiration Maerys watched the transition.
Boudika seemed transfixed on the boundaries of the magic - can you turn something living? The image of her flesh and bones being warped by the strong twist of magic into stone was frightening to the child, but Boudika seemed absolutely fascinated with it. Maerys did not understand the full capabilities of Isra's magic; she didn't recognize that it wasn't just substance to iron, but rather one thing to any other thing. Despite the question the mare asked, Maerys found herself wondering about something different than Boudika. She questioned the timeline of it all. "Has't thee at each moment been able to reconstruct?" Was Isra born with such powers or did she acquire them as many Maerys knew had? Maerys herself had always wanted to obtain magical capabilities, but she had yet to be granted with such an opportunity. It was not jealousy that flowed through her veins now, but something else.
It was awe and wonder, and nothing truer could be said.
M A E R Y S
