KAHLUA

Kahlua. Her own name sounded almost foreign to her. How could she be the same mare, the same queen, that had led them before? How could she still be Kahlua the Sunshower when all she had done was rain misery upon the Qian? How could he still be delighted to teach her? Didn't he understand that she had betrayed the herd, that she was nothing more than a false queen sitting upon a throne of lies? There were so many questions to be answered, so many thoughts whirling in her head that brought her nothing but misery. The foolish queen understood forgiveness quite well, but she had yet to learn that it also applied to herself.

“You'll find it isn't much,” she responded softly, just the slightest hint of her normal dancing voice found in the words. There were moments, seconds, where she could feel her real self poking through. There were instants where she could remember who she was, who she had been. But, as now, they faded away, leaving the girl caught between two ropes pulling her in opposite directions. She wanted to be happy, wanted to dance among clouds and forget that life had any troubles. It would be so easy for her to block that part of her mind, to erase the terrible memory of Shilva's death, to let go of her worries and woes. But the other rope pulled back- she had been shirking her duties too long. This was a punishment. She needed to suffer for her foolishness, feel pain to repay the golden girl. She needed to know what it was to be lonely. And now, as with every other time, the rope pulling her downwards into her own personal hell was the one that won.

Looking at the stallion before her, the painted queen briefly contemplated what she knew. For all the few fights she had been in, Kahlua had never attacked first. What had the others done? She had been in close proximity to Ricochet and he had simply reared up, hooves flying towards her head. Farenjar had charged her out of nowhere, streaking from the shadows and pointing his dangerous horn in her direction. And Aurelia? Aurelia had exploded in a ball of fire. But Kahlua was not in a position to rear and let her hooves fly, she did not have a horn and she could not explode in a ball of fire. She was just Kahlua. Illynx had called her plain. Perhaps the GildedBlade had been correct.

But since Kahlua was the one that had asked to be trained and Destrier was the one giving direction, the painted girl knew she could not stand here forever and wait for him to attack. She had to follow his directions- though she was (a false) queen, he was in charge in this moment.

With nothing else to go on except what she had seen in her own time, the queen decided that she would try to emulate Ricochet. Beginning to trot, the queen tried to close what few steps were between her and Destrier before rearing up. Her hooves stretched out, beating the air rhythmically and attempting to strike Destrier upon his side or his rump. “I'm sorry,” she said softly, squinting her eyes closed and turning her head away for a moment. To attack the stallion felt awkward, out of character, unnatural... Especially to attack him unprovoked. She did not understand how warriors could enjoy the act of battle but she was glad there were warriors in the world. They were needed as much as healers or diviners or crafters or any other rank.

As gravity began to pull her body back downward, Kahlua suddenly remembered something else that had been used to attack her- teeth. Mildly, gently, meekly, the queen reached out towards the taller stallion and tried to bite at his flesh. The move could hardly be called an attack. If it even hit, it would be little more than a love nip, but the queen was unsure of herself. Of course, that was why she was training. Patiently, the forlorn queen awaited the warrior's response- verbal or physical- and continued to tell herself that this training was for the best... even if it felt terribly awkward.

Post| 1/3
WC| 712

the sunshower