M
essalina resisted the urge to readjust her braid as she waited for the feathered maiden’s response. It was an odd feeling—never had she been so disheveled in the presence of another, and she found the experience quite unpleasant. In that moment, an old memory flashed across her mind. It had happened many years ago, when she’d been just a naive foal stumbling her way through life in the inner court. On one occasion, she had excused the attendant and spent hours dressing and tending to her hair herself, hoping to reflect even an ounce of Mother's beauty. When she approached the Enchantress later, eager to show off her work, she’d been greeted with a cold smile and chilling words. “Darling, make your way to the ballroom via the servant’s walkway. If you dress like one, then surely you can behave like one as well.”
Her lips turned up in a bitter smirk as she recounted her previous mistakes. If only Mother could see her now, tangled hair and dull coat a shadow of her past glory. How proud she would be of her.
Messalina’s ears twitched forward as a voice broke the silence. Her eyes met the quartz-colored gaze of the maiden, noticing the way her shoulders tensed and relaxed again as she took in Messalina’s figure. Clearly she didn’t deem the girl a threat, which was a safe assumption. Messalina disliked violence, and would never risk marring her hooves simply to attack another.
Moving closer to the maiden as a show of her good faith, she listened intently to the pink-dusted mare’s response. So she was new to these lands as well—no matter, all Messalina needed was a guide to the nearest city, and the maiden seemed to know where one was at least.
She let a smile grace her face, dipping her head in acknowledgement as the maiden revealed her name.
Her words were deliberately polite, her voice deliberately composed. Demure and proper, just the way she’d always been. Even if clothed in rags, she was never without her manners. She would smile her lovely smile, perform her elegant bow, and bestow charming flatteries upon the ones worthy of her presence. For without that, Messalina feared she would be truly empty.
frozen hearts growing colder with time
sorry for the delay ;A;
