TORIELLE
It's only me who wants to wrap around your dreams
It warmed the mare’s heart to hear the young colt speak that her words made him feel the wonder of magic. That, in her opinion, was the best possible thing. She had heard a thousand different compliments, but to know that her words could spark magic inside another being was perhaps the only one that really mattered. She was delighted to see, too, that he seemed to take in the information relatively well, even if she rambled on. The concept of magic was a tricky subject and would likely take more than one overview to really get down proper.
As the colt continued to ask more questions, Torielle became more certain that he was not of this land. In fact, he must have been from somewhere else entirely. He had no knowledge of the written word, which was unfortunately somewhat common in some places, but without awareness of inherent telekinesis? The woman could not think of a time when she hadn’t been able to move objects or interact with her world in this way. Suddenly the page sniffing she had seen earlier made sense. He had not been indulging in the smell, but rather had been trying to figure out what was written, and how to move the pages.
She smiled softly, listening to his queries and mulling over which question to start with. He asked them with curiosity, if not a little bit of hesitancy. His reaction to her grasping a single book had clearly been something startling. Perhaps with that she could tie two of his questions together. The easiest to answer was his last, however, and so she spoke with a chuckle.
“No, I did not make the library.” She shook her head, bells jingling. “We have them where I come from, though they are often made of stone. Some other force here from this land created this place, and I am eternally grateful to them.”
The mare looked back down to the book in front of her and carefully lifted it once more. “The library is filled with books, on which stories that have been passed down orally can be written, so that they may be shared long after their story tellers pass into the next life, or can travel beyond where those stories come from.”
She flipped open the book and turned it to face the colt. On the two open pages there was an illustration, though faded, of a colourful butterfly leading a small band of foals somewhere through the woods. On the opposing side there were a few paragraphs of text.
“The words we speak have symbols when written, that can be used to tell those stories. Much how your voice can tell me things, when we write things into books, in a way, we give the books a voice, and it can tell others things, if they choose to read them.” She set the book back down. “Learning to read and write is something I could teach you, if you like.” She grinned.
“And I think I can try to teach you how to use your magic.” The mare took a deep breath, thinking about her next words for a moment with eyes closed. When she came to a decision, she opened them.
“This kind of magic, the kind we all have, is sort of like a feeling, and sort of like a thought. It’s an extension of yourself, of your desire to do something. And in that way, when you recognize that as part of yourself, you learn to use it like any other part of your body. It’s somewhat difficult at first, and it can take time, but once you become comfortable, it’s as second nature as walking,” she smiled softly. “I promise.”
art by the-day-of-shadow character by scapeh table by sunny
