[P] Dance Lessons

[Mesnyi]

Mesnyi

She’s a pale, waxen taper;

T

he time makes little difference to her when she has the freedom not to care. (Fun can be found anywhere, as can romance, and wealth, and danger, and war.) So the Mesnyi of then is hardly different from the Mesnyi of now.

(But which is which?)

(Then is now). 

The glass violin peals out a long and inquiring note as the pale mare drifted back to her clearing. She was awaiting a student. On occasion, Mesnyi had taken up teaching dance and music and her host of other skills to those that could offer money and (or) influence. While she always found an enamored Someone to foot the bill, she did spend some of her time alone. And so it was her money to spend, those days. She had no proper work - never had, never would - and what could be better than being paid to have fun?

Do you truly think she would answer you that?

No, never. Not then-today or now-today. She would tell it to you on never-today.

The letters Eik had sent were approached with vague interest by Mesnyi until she starting asking who he was. She would rather teach a Somebody than a Nobody (you could feel the difference in the weight of the coin). 

He was a Somebody.

Mesnyi was polite and willing as ever.

”Good morning, Eik,” she beams, with all the confidence of someone who has gossiped enough to pronounce every member of one’s bloodline four generations back. Mesnyi offers him a low bow-curtsy of some manner, ankles crossed and mane draping low and cloudlike across her face. In a moment, she is up again, the violin snapping from its discordant idling to its master’s desired sonata. She huffed and spared it a glance, ”My apologies for the abrupt change. It does not care for my choices very often. Ready to dance?”

Eik | Silver Filigree | "speaks" | notes: ☽☼☾

rallidae