He was handsome, but in a way that made you think you should keep one hand on your wallet and the other on your heart (just for good measure). He was charming, but only if you weren’t watching close enough to see his fingers wrap around the strings of your purse.
She had thought that maybe he could heal the broken pieces of her; that he could hold her together with those hands that were so used to stealing.
But that was all that they were made for.
----
The sea wind bites at her skin. She doesn’t seem to mind, and instead lets the salt kiss the tender parts of her face. She wraps the tattered robe around her tighter for some semblance of warmth, something to shield her against the thrashing cold. It won’t help, she knows, but the familiarity of the fraying fabric is the only comfort she can indulge in on this ship.
That, and the book she held firmly in her grasp.
The pages are all worn, like her cloak, but it wouldn’t matter. She can recite its entirety by memory alone. She absentmindedly flips through, settling into an abandoned corner of the deck, while the waves gently rocks her into the solace of those words she loves so much.
“She would wonder what had hurt her when she found her face wet with tears, and then would wonder how she could have been hurt without knowing it.”
But those thoughts - and those words - are lost on the breeze as the ship docks and her attention is pulled from the pages and onto the streets that lay beyond. Those first few steps onto the cobblestones were shaky, hesitant; full of either apprehension or nervous excitement. Perhaps it was a mix of both that made her tumble onto the street below. Whatever the cause, a blush crept across her pale cheeks before she righted herself, and tried to brush off her embarrassing blunder.
She had other things to attend to.
@any
abusing liquid time & finally posting her "coming to novus" thread
The winter is always different by the sea. She’s bitter and angry, hurting and wild. One might tempt to invite, perhaps embrace her frigid spirit. Forgetting the tears that inevitably follow – brine and sea breeze – digging deep into your bones. It never leaves; her kisses follow with a jealous hold. A fire might seize the cold, the warmth of wood and spark reminding you of balmy, unhindered days. A fat belly, and the welcome touch of sun’s radiant hands. In most cases, reuniting with the elements is a constant affair. Taking pleasure by reminding us of what we left behind.
If only Noëlle could be as vocal as the winds that bash the sea against a rock face. To invoke caution when the winter storms gain unexpected momentum. Unbridled fury, a hollow, strong cry into the void – and to not care what others thought of that. Would unmasking her emotions make her weak? Or strong and brave? She supposed it would depend on whom she placed her worth in. It felt safe to have friends, even if they were strangers that enjoyed your company for only a few moments.
The past day or so remains a blur. Winter merely reminds her that there is still warmth in her core, life – exchanging heat with the cool air. Her body groans, of wanting rest. Youth hides it behind her pale face, and bright blue eyes. Mother has gifted her with a believable mask – and she has worked carefully to bind its edges and mold its appearance. The days of travel behind the young lass have made her absentminded, despite her best efforts. In a numbing fashion, in a protective coating that eases with the winter weather.
It’s in this absentminded haze, that Noëlle miscalculates the distance she needs to pass by the stranger. Equipped with dull senses, she reacts all too slow to parry and avoid her clumsy mistake. Instead, her bulk invades the mare’s space and bumps into her shoulder at an odd angle. Not quite 90, just short of 45 degrees. “O-oh! I’m so sorry!” A familiar, fluttering fluster bubbled in her belly. A bird upset in its cage.
She dipped her head away and stepped back. An amused, heavy laugh – just a small huff and puff escaped her breath. “I should know better miss. Head in the clouds,” she exhaled what remained of the bubbling; the tiny feathers into puffs of heated air. Noëlle’s gaze returned to the pegasi. A meek smile curled favouring the right side. Messy locks of thick and wavy hair spilled between her eyes in the breeze. “Are you alright?”
The stranger was pretty on first glance. Warm hues moved beyond the splash of ivory covering her face. The young woman couldn’t help but notice, perhaps, admire the carriage of feathers held by the mare’s sides. Imagining what it might be like, to send your soul along the tides surrounding clouds. And the ocean of the sky held by each feather.
ooc// hope you don't mind my noobie bumping in!
@Euphrosyne
He had abandoned his first home, the motherland that had both nourished and ruined him against her breast. As a boy, he had supped on cobbles and stars, and the darkness was as home to him as his own skin. At times, Raglan swore that he still smelled of smoke, that Denocte’s sacred nightfires by which generations had frolicked had soaked their wild essence into his bloodied skin. Mostly, he found it reassuring; that his mother, vast and mountain clad, had not left him even as he had fled her. Though when the night was long snd the stars stretched coldly into he horizon, the wind whipping at him as if in punishment, Raglan worried that the lingering scent of the Night Court was simply a sign to others that his life was forfeit to Caligo; that she had claimed his death right.
But what could he know of the workings of gods and timelessness?
Was it not sin to fret over a future so intangible?
When had he started caring about sins, anyway?
Raglan sighed and shook his head, dislodging the thoughts that had wormed their way through his thick barrier of aimlessness. It was the first time that he had stepped into the Dusk capitol — his capitol, if he were adhering to technicalities — and it was only fitting that he had fallen back into old habits. Shrouded in the dimness of an alley in midday, the Crow felt strangely reminiscent of his youth. Cobblestones and dirt looked the same in all grand cities, he supposed, and the winding streets of Terrastella’s jewel were no exception. Ebon hooves clicked against stone and grime as the mouth of the alley loomed, the painted brick and stonework walls on either side of the pathway growing lighter as the lad approached the roadway proper.
A clatter of hoof falls and an exclaimed apology just outside the alleyway piqued the Crow’s attention, and he emerged from the alley to find a pair of mares had collided; though from the lack of both fires and gore the horned stallion surmised that it wasn’t with enough force to cause a tragedy. To be fair, Raglan wasn’t disappointed by the lack of chaos, but he had been expecting a modicum more excitement from the enthusiasm with which the apology was spoken. Pursing his lips for a momoent, the pegasus decided to enjoy himself regardless.
As a rogueish grin spread over darkened lips, he nodded a greeting at each femme in turn, moving to stand at a point position in the little triangle of bodies. One was a unicorn, young and pale, with cloven hooves and a trifecta of horns adorning a delicate face; and from the apologetic smile tugging at her expression, it seemed she was the perpetrator. The other, a soft colored pegasus whose entire physique screamed sunset beauty while being draped in a threadbare shroud, was clutching at a book and looking for all the world as if she had been daydreaming — and may still be.
Adjusting crimson wings against his sides and fixing each lass in a sparkling opal gaze, Raglan spoke, “Good day, gentlefriends. I heard your collision while pondering something scholarly and not at all while lingering in an alleyway. Is everyone alright?” His words were flippant, but tone genuine, resulting in what could be assumed to be a rather muddled impression of what the rogue was after — was he flirting, joking, or serious? It didn’t help that the lanky stag’s lips remained quirked upward in a neutral, albeit present, grin.
The lad had never been one to give an accurate first impression.
Hey! Hope it’s alright if the boy jumps in :) I couldn’t resist these lovely ladies
He had only mentioned it in passing, just a quick slip of his tongue. She had listened to him talk about his home; the solar courts and the gods that ruled over them, the markets of Denocte, the library of Delumine, the beasts that ravaged the deserts of Solterra, the Kelpies that dominated the waves of Terrastella. She had no idea what any of it meant, the legends of Novus and their inhabitants, but she had fallen in love with them.
She had fallen in love with him.
Escaping the confines of the House had always felt unattainable, but when she had heard this particular ship, The Wave Treader, was to set off for Terrastella’s port in the morning she wasted no time in gathering what little valuables she had. Now she was stepping off the port and onto the cobblestones of the very place she had chased in her dreams. It was so much more beautiful than she could have imagined.
That’s probably why she didn’t notice the other girl until they crashed.
It had been a simple miscalculation on both their parts; Euphrosyne had run directly into her path with little regard for her surroundings, and Noëlle simply hadn’t stepped out of the way in time. She was already apologizing before Euphrosyne even had a chance to do it herself. O-oh! I’m so sorry! I should know better, miss. Head in the clouds. Are you alright? She couldn’t help but laugh, carefree and full of joy, as she picked herself up from the street.
“Don’t apologize! It seems we both have something in common already.” She gave her a friendly wink and a gentle shake of her wings before answering her question. “I’m perfectly fine. Just a bit ruffled. Are you okay?”
It wasn’t long before their wreck had attracted another; a long and lanky man made of burnt umber and eyes of green jade. He was beautiful, though she felt woe to admit that even to herself. It seemed he was used to that reaction. Good day, gentlefriends. I heard your collision while pondering something scholarly and not at all while lingering in an alleyway. Is everyone alright?
Right.“How kind of you to look after us.” She gives him a look up and down, which might have been mistaken for flirting if it weren’t for the unimpressed expression she forced herself to wear. “Were you pondering, by chance, better ways to spy on others?”
@Noëlle @Raglan
just pretend she's being really sarcastic and not at all lame
To her relief, the mare isn’t as bothered as Noëlle anticipated. To be fair she’d expected the wrath of the sisters to come down upon her head. Perhaps the heavy hand of a noble or some stately official, but on second glance it seemed unlikely for either circumstance to be of issue. By the condition of the stranger’s robe, and the proximity of vessels unloading passengers. Regardless, a pang of guilt welled behind her eyes.
The mare laughs – putting off the edge, to some degree. Winking in collusion.
I’m perfectly fine. Just a bit ruffled. Are you okay?
“Are you absolutely sure?” She tilts her head, and has made the motion of bobbing it down slightly lower. Guilt and shame swirling in a soup brewed from fatigue. Emotions that felt stronger, much sharper when tired and hungry.
“Ah – it will take a lot more to bring me down miss,” a nervous chuckle escapes her.
Another voice offers introductions from the alleyway, as Noëlle steps aside to look. His imposing figure emerges from the shadows, despite the slightness in his limbs or the coolness in his gaze. A dichotomy of finesse and sincerity pressed upon them. Two weathered beings scrambling for purchase on their own hooves.
She raised a curious brow by his emergence. Fancied his bronzed figure and the appendages of feathers and horn that collected together, balanced and well placed. He seemed dangerous in an unassuming way. Possessing the kind of predatory grace a tiger or a puma does while tracking prey. But one could assume all sorts of things from strangers.
A brief laugh escapes her lips – light and airy, as the woman appraises the stranger. Shaking off what loomed behind her eyes.
Were you pondering, by chance, better ways to spy on others?
“Now that you’ve mentioned it kind sir, I do feel a little sore in this cold weather… A spot of tea would do me right.” She wasn’t completely lying – it was cold after all, she could feel the pang of hunger rear inside her gut with a troubling emergence. “Wouldn’t you agree miss? Not that I have much to spare myself…” Feigns a sigh.
“I don’t suppose you would go to that length of trouble, mister?” If it wasn’t obvious, it was comedic. Haggling wasn’t a skill she’d perfected, but in this circumstance it proved strangely fitting to the girl (hunger besides the point, warm rooms, cozy fires…). She gave the mare a quick wink and laughed at the incredulous display of bargaining.
