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06-11-2017, 02:55 PM
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The princess is silent when her mother offers her a reply, soon. Soon, she says, as if it is at all possible for the fair filly to make the journey; she is too weak, she can barely make it more than a few steps from their cave without losing her breath, much less reach the border of her her own home. The reality of the situation is settling slowly, grazing her delicately, first at the knees, the eyes— it creeps up the length of her legs until it's holding her delicate heart in its palms, itching to crush it, squash the tiny lump that thrums against her breast. "Mama, will I ever be able to go anywhere? Will this cave be all I know?" Her eyes are not beaming as they had been moments ago during her mother's inspiring description of her homeland, but dulled, distant; emerald green is brimming with sorrow, salty tears stinging her eyes and blurring her vision as she looks to the gilded mare beside her and frets. Safiri had never wanted to be stuck here, within the cold stone of their cave, her home, but here she remains, day in and day out. There was nothing more for her to do, she could not leave and shed her health faults, pretend that she is not struck down by fatigue every moment she spends actively walking about, always craving a nap or simply just to lay down, body aching and weary despite only moving minimally. "I don't want to stay here, mama. I don't want to be stuck in here for the rest of my life," her voice is cracking, shattering as she stutters through her sentences, taking in a gulp of air that doesn't quite satisfy her. The princess feels helpless, a space that could be used for better things than her tired, pitiful existence. She was a liability, a weak point to her parents, she could not go out into the world and take care of herself the way her brothers and sisters can; she has to continue to rely on her parents, on others, dependent on them to help her when she expends too much energy and is left defenseless, slumped against a tree. She feels too weak, feels that she'll never get as far in life as her brethren, that she will always be the baby. The lamb is stranded in her cave, in her whole world, listening to her mother promise to show the magic she has. Safiri's ears pique with interest, but she cannot find it in her to show as much curiosity as she had minutes ago, mood dampened by the thought of being trapped in her own little bubble for the rest of her life. She thinks that maybe it will be a short one, with her heart being so small, who knows what she's susceptible to with a heart as weak as hers - she almost hopes that life will be a brief inhale, a quick moment to admire the small, damp cave crowded with her family, the swirling mist of the Edge, the end. It would be better for them, not to have to worry about a child so vulnerable, a child to always worry about. With the use of her magic, Safiri's blue mood cools and grays, she finds herself still stuck somewhere between disheartened and interested in what her magic wants, but cannot decide. The princess thinks that her magic wants something she will have to search too far for, have to reach out too much for, she will tire herself just looking. But she is proved wrong, as Marembo returns to their dimming cave with articles in tow, her mother approving of her companion's actions as the items are laid out before the child. She takes each one into consideration, the tangled branch of oak, the threads of grass that lie in a clump beside a pile of rocks. There is a small antler that catches her eye, only for the way it appears to branch out of one point, one root from the skull and out, like a tree, she thinks as she looks it over - but her magic does not want it. What it does want, however, is the item beside it. An ivory tooth sits there, beckoning the attention of her magic, capturing it between delicate, invisible hands. Safiri feels out each step, the tooth becoming a malleable form between her grasp, mind wrapped around the winding path the magic wants her to take. She follows, each step laid out right before she takes it, going over the process slowly, as though she is blind, finding her way home through touch alone. She feels the rough surface of the ivory tooth, shaping it to her will, forming it to the shape of an animal she cannot name. She feels each mark, each notch in the ivory is her doing, the ivory is not solid in her eyes, but soft, like clay. It bends to her will, creating something that she can feel, she knows it is sentient from the way her magic fades, the way it looks to her like it's expecting her to say something. She opens her mouth, hesitating before she offers her words to the small, quadrupedal golem before her. "Auni," she dubs it, looking at the petite figure with it's sturdy horns carved with intricate patterns, a thick body that's held in a resting stance, as though hibernating. "Nifuate." The golem stiffens, she can almost hear the moment it begins to understand its purpose, shuddering to life and entering Safiri's space, lingering at her side while she looks to her mother, brimming with pride at her own work. "I did it!" a wind in the shadow, a whale song in the deep |
@Rexanna finally replying, ahh sorryyyy
