Fools gold shines like diamonds in our eyes

Her King’s voice rumbled her name, and it took everything of the old mare not to show more worry across her face - despite the grin that sat across his face. She offered him a minute smile in return until another figure came into the group. Ears flickered to the splashed mare, one she hadn’t met yet officially but recalled seeing. She assumed this mare was the Glazier that Glasgow was supposed to meet up with, but had failed. Was this to be some sort of interview? Her ears wavered as she dipped her crowned head to the Glazier. “Hello.” Was all she could muster, seeing the slumped appearance of the mare. Tembovu had beaten her to the question, and so she said nothing. What point would it have been to reiterate a question from a King? So she watched, silently, until the Elephant King’s attention had returned upon her.

Turning her attention back, glassy orbs watched as his lips parted and moved as he spoke. “I elevate you to the rank of Glazier.” Her jaw parted, dropping in surprise and wonder. This wasn’t an interview, this was a promotion. And she had done well enough in her little attempt at the painting lesson that she had managed to be noticed. Pride blossomed in her chest, and she realized she hadn’t said anything in return. “Thank you, my King. I hope I won’t disappoint you.” She dipped her head again, a custom of where she was from. When given great opportunity, you made it a point to tell them that you didn’t want to disappoint the ones that gave you your privileges. But he smiled, that charming warm smile and Glasgow could only return it brightly - the strange feeling of her smile pushing up her scarred smile was getting more and more bearable. Yet, he looked upon Anzanie and herself until he spoke again. Pride welled up in Glasgow’s chest that she, too, could be called upon in times of need. Once again having a job to fulfill and a duty to uphold.

Her King spoke to Anzanie first, and Glasgow listened with patience and curiosity. What did this mean? She felt the slight change in the winds and the mists, as if it called to her as its own. But then, Tembovu’s gaze returned to the scarred mare and she watched with ears perked to listen, posture strong and held - showing utmost respect. He spoke of ”small discreet blades” and ”jars”. Well, that sounded easy enough. So Glasgow nodded with a smile. “I’ll do my best.” She admitted, knowing it would take some getting used to. She didn’t have magic back home, but her sister did. And she wondered if the power that came with wielding such strength would ruin her as well. But what good was it if you didn’t try?

Then, he spoke again of the elephant calf and her creation at Glasgow’s own painting event. Eager to please her King, she nodded. “I will, my King. I’m pleased she enjoyed it that much.” Her voice was rushed now, her respectful and dutiful charade dispersing in her absolute excitement. So she turned her attention to the dozing companion of her King, focusing on the little piece of glass in her trunk. Glassy orbs focused on the glass as her veins suddenly grew cold. It frightened her a little, if she had to be honest. But she focused through it - pushing past the overwhelming chill that enveloped her body. Before she knew it, it was like an icy liquid had grown from the mists, almost like a small dust devil made of a clear liquid. It slid across the grass as Glasgow directed it - shakily and uncertain, but it made it to the little piece of the glass nonetheless. It made its way around Mbwene’s trunk, slinking into the gaps and crevices and coating it with a durable outer protection, preventing the paint from chipping off and the edges from breaking. As Glasgow worked with it, the power grew within her stronger and she focused on making the edges round - as if it were a little piece of memories encased in a flat glass marble. This way, Glasgow figured, the calf could hold onto it easily and the surface would be smooth.

As she finished, the liquid slipped from coating the calf’s treasure and returned to Glasgow - mystifying itself once again into the fog that surrounded the Edge. She looked to Tembovu with a hopeful smile, pride billowing from her yet again. This time it was mixed with excitement and nervousness. “It’s… A very strange feeling.” She admitted, shying away from the looks of her King and possibly Anzanie. Then, she turned her attention to making the blades that her King had asked of her. This would be more difficult for her, as she had nothing to coat. She had to just make them up, and hope they would be right. So she sucked in another chilly Birdsong breath, and pulled the magic from the mists again. This time, she formulated them upon the ground. The liquid moving as Glasgow directed it, making a small handle with a sharpened edge of the blade. It didn’t look smooth like the coating to Mbwene’s treasure. This was jagged, sharp, possibly deadly. But they were supposed to be blades, weren’t they? So she tried again, and again, until she had managed to make ten different blades. Each one with a slightly different jagged edge. No matter how much she tried to make them smooth, they insisted on being jagged. So she sighed, heaving breaths she didn’t know she had been holding in all her focus. The magic drifted away, slinking back within her and warming her chilled bones as the liquid became the fog once again. Shifting her gaze back to Tembovu, her smile had faded. “I wanted them to be smoother… Will they do?” She questioned, shifting her weight. “I need more practice.” She admitted, softer this time.

"Talk."

thought we had a million—

but, baby, we got nothing.

Glasgow