Jaenelle Angelline (spiralintoebony) wrote in utr_logs, @ 2010-04-12 22:31:00 |
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Entry tags: | jaenelle angelline, maggie |
WHO: Jaenelle Angelline and Maggie
WHAT: New arrival
WHERE: London, outside a manor house
WHEN: Now
The night air was comforting, the grass cool under her bare feet. Jaenelle was glad that Papa wasn't here to see her like this. He would have protested the bare feet on the autumn ground, and stuffed her feet into a few pairs of socks and some warm boots before letting her outdoors. Or he would have tried. As it was, Kaelas and Ladvarian, her kindred guardians, had badgered and badgered until Jaenelle had relented and put a jacket on over her nightgown.
She needed these walks, this time out in Scelt to be with the land. It was a Queen's strength, a Queen's weakness. Even the Queens that lived in cities needed a garden, a place to plant their feet upon the land and feel it connect. That's what it meant to be Blood. Caretakers. Protectors.
The wind was picking up. Ladvarian, the brown and white Sceltie, whimpered his disapproval. *Bad wind. No walkies. Bad wind.*
Jaenelle looked around. Leaves were shaking in the breeze, but she didn't sense any danger. Curious, she sent out a psychic probe, but there was nothing to find. The nearest town was three miles away. "Where is the danger, little Brother?" she asked, still scanning the trees.
There was no further warning. The wind rose, from a whisper to a scream. For a moment, Jaenelle could see a funnel shape before it was upon them. Throwing Black shields around them all the last thing Jaenelle expected was for the wind to pick her up.
A few moments later, she amended her opinion. The very last thing she expected was for the wind to pick her up, and then set her down in a place that was not Scelt. Not even Kaeleer. "Mother Night," she muttered, picking herself up. "What was that?" It wasn't a witchstorm. She would have been able to unravel any witchstorm in that part of the Territory.
Back on her feet, Jaenelle took a more thorough look at her surroundings, and her sapphire eyes widened in shock. Stone streets. The odd carriages that moved through them. The people. Landens all, for she could feel no trace of Blood strength in any of them, and yet, the carriages were powered by no animal she could see.
Jaenelle backed up, against the wall of a building, looking around for anything she could recognize. Nothing, not even the land, was familiar. The land was different, cold and weak. Worried, and trying not to let herself edge from there into frightened, Jaenelle send a thought into the Darkness, a psychic cry to anyone who might hear it.
*Hello?*