The stones rattled under the loud, thunderous beat of song -- the primal rhythm just fast enough for the ocean-kissed mare’s liking. The tendrils of control that she had been holding seemed to slip away from her with every turn that she took in the dance -- her eyes shut to ignore everything but the sound of song. Before her arrival in Denocte, dancing had been a chore -- something that she had done because she had no choice in the matter but here she had found her freedom again and the very thing meant to enslave her had been the key.
Her body was a stranger to her, the way that it was able to move and twist about as she kept time to the wordless song. Leaps and kicks, twists and somersaults -- she was quite the acrobat. Yet, all of that elegance and flair had come with a price. She shook her head, tossing those black waves, as she warded off the thoughts of evil that threatened to bring her down. She was imagining the smell of smoke, she told herself. There was no fire here.
It was the whooping call of a male that brought her back to the earth after a few more minutes. Lashed lids opened to reveal a steel glass gaze, a hush falling over them as the mare snorted and stomped her last step unnecessarily hard. Her chest heaved with the effort of the dance as she jerked her head up higher, flattening her ears against the dishevelled mass of black curls. She could hear the admonishment from her fellow Denoctens towards the young stallion who had broken the spell, although none would stay mad at him for long. Someone else would come to take her place, though perhaps not with the innate flair that she possessed.
Freya picked up the flashy piece of gold and sapphire on her way out of the small crowd, still breathing heavily as she cut a path for herself through them. She took refuge in a dark corner of the market, away from the flickering torches that disrupted Caligo’s perfect summer’s night as the thoughts that she had let go of while dancing returned to her, swarming her like flies to a rotting corpse. Her skin, rich in midnight blues, quivered and twitched as she fought back for the control of her emotions. She slipped the elaborate gold and sapphire adornment that she always wore back onto her head, feeling the cool metal against her sweaty skin start to ground her even more.
The witch who had sold her the thing had said it held some sort of magic, but Freya was a skeptic of such things. She had never seen magic for herself, therefore it did not exist.
open :3 Tagging @Reichenbach because I know we had talked about a thread, but this wasn’t the one we had in mind xD
The warm summers air was alight with revelry, the sound of beating drums and swift fiddles both familiar and enigmatic, lightening his step and sliding cool hands through his sweaty hair. A grin embellished his roguish face, warm and reckless as he watched the dancing crowd, bodies of all sorts throbbing to the same beat. He recognized many faces within the crowd, but none stood out so much as Freya.
He would never forget the first time he had seen her dance. There was something like pride, pride and fear, that surfaced each time he saw the fine-boned fae in her element, lost like smoke on the breeze. She moved like water, fluid and smooth, filled with an endless grace. Reichenbach watched her closely, standing upon the edges of the fray, turning his attention from his laughing companions to the lethal woman.
She was not like the other crows. The others found comfort in each other, in knowing they were not orphans any longer, that they had a family. That family may not have been birthed from blood, but it remained thicker and stronger than the parents that had either abandoned their children, or departed the world too early. Freya cursed the world. She was blessed with such an irresistible lightness, but cursed with the worst of the worlds darkness. Reichenbach felt more responsible for Freya even than he did for the rest of his pack - for she was still lost, still searching, and he understood.
The Night King shifted through the humid air, feeling it stroke his dark skin lovingly as he passed through it, enjoying the warmth of Summer underneath Calligo's shadowy embrace. He arrived beside her as she adjusted her jewels, silver gaze flicking to the large sapphire she wore with something like pride, or comfort.
"Your dancing is as beautiful as ever"
He began, his voice like smooth thunder.
"I fear for the young men in Denocte these days, they hardly stand a chance."
His voice was laced with humor, still only a low, musical murmur for her ears only. There was a strange companionship between the King Crow and his daughter of dance, strange but irrevocable.
@Freya omg what a reply?? sorry this took so long my gorgeous!!
The warm summer night’s breeze was cool against her skin, as she brushed her hair away from the sweaty skin -- flicking her ear in the direction of the Sovereign as he spoke. She wasn’t surprised that he had joined her, he tended to find her whenever her core was rattled as if he possessed some sort of sixth sense. She would have asked him about it, but she did not like to give off the impression that anything bothered her. She had a reputation to protect, and that meant keeping everyone at an arm’s length, fooling them all into thinking that she was more than capable of wrestling her demons on her own or that those demons didn’t exist at all. His voice rolled like the smooth thunder that was common enough during the summer time, and Freya ignored him for the pause of a breath as she continued with the charade of fixing her appearance.
”Thank you.” She murmured, keeping her voice low in order to keep the conversation intimate. Reichenbach was also the King of the Crows, although none outside of the tight-nit circle of misfits knew about it. She imagined that it would be harder and harder to keep the secret though, as Reich grew in power and name. It wouldn’t be long until he wouldn’t be able to be seen with any of them, too low and dirty for the likes of a king. And then he would abandon them, just like everyone else in her life. Freya could hear the buzzing of her incessant thoughts, the fears and worries that tangled her on the inside. Don’t get close to him They whispered, twisting the nails of abandonment and betrayal that stuck in her heart until she took a step back from him -- shifting her weight until she appeared more comfortable.
”But you know that I make it very clear to them that I’m not interested.” Her voice was like the first tendrils of winter frost on the tender leaves, and she shrugged lightly. ”It isn’t my fault if they can’t tell the difference between the truth and a performance.” Her typically snappish attitude was curbed, for the sake of appearances -- or else she might have given him more of a tart reply. Much older than your typical Crow, Freya had come to the group late in life -- on the cusp of the age that most of the orphaned were spreading their wings to join other things although they were all bound by the secret society to never reveal it to someone who wasn’t a Crow.
She tended to hang along the outskirts, never quite engaging in the family-like atmosphere of the group. Instead she watched, envious of them and worried about them all in the same breath. She may not have been part of the family, but she would defend them if only to keep them from becoming bitter like her. Her glass colored eyes rose to met Reich’s dark ones.
”Is being a true king everything that you hoped it would be?” She asked smoothly, letting her steps draw her closer until she was leaving him behind for him to follow, intent to get out of the streets where others might see them together. Some assumed that Freya and Reichenbach were bedding each other, but it was the furthest thing from the truth. She had tried initially, as it was all too common for her to submit herself to men of power like that -- like an initiation that she had to go through in order to keep their protection and good graces, but Reich had seen right through her. Whether by that strange sixth sense or some other, the Night King had somehow known that he shouldn’t take what she offered. Now, she supposed it was because he was in love with someone else -- although she couldn’t quite place her finger on who. Still, it didn’t keep other from assuming especially as Freya was not shy at all about her sex life.
@Reichenbach -- sorry it took me so long! I kinda made some assumptions, but let me know if you’d like to change them or plot differently? <3
