MESSALINA
A trip to the ocean was long overdue, and what better time to visit than in the abyss of night, deep in the depths of winter?
Humor, humor. The solemn girl was learning of jest from the raucous Denoctians and their nightly war of words. In all honesty, she used to think herself a rather sardonic creature—that is, before she had spent countless evenings lingering in the shadows of Denocte’s pubs and markets. She had been limited in the usage of such language in her years with Mother, learning to hold her tongue before she’d ever reached the age of adolescent rebellion. Her mouth dripped honey and mead instead of the poison that leaked so superfluously from the lips of the sharp-tongued Denoctians—Messalina hoped she could learn their art quickly.
In truth, the ivory girl had developed a bit of an odd habit of visiting strange places well past their acceptable hours. (Case in point—her pre-dawn meeting with the Regent deep in the citadel of Delumine.) It had been a drab day, the sudden snowstorm keeping even the rowdy citizens of the Night Court off the streets, preferring to stay cozy and warm in their stone-cobbled homes. Yet dreary and uneventful days tended to lead to insomnia at night for Messalina, her dancer’s bones aching for her to do something, even if it was utterly idiotic and against her better judgement. So when the snow settled, a pristine white blanket encasing Denocte in an uncharacteristic hush of solemnity, Messalina bundled herself up neat and tidy, plaited her hair, and set off into the ominous night.
She heard the restless ocean miles before her cerulean eyes finally drank in its inky depths. Even an entity as vast and eternal as the sea could not avoid winter’s frosty touch—for a thick layer of snow lay undisturbed across what would be a golden bed of sand. Smelling the briny air, observing the white froth of the crashing waves, barely visible under a weakly glowing moon—Messalina was suddenly reminded of how she had entered the land of Novus, many months ago. Strange—it had felt a lifetime ago.
Panic and fear were the strongest memories. A night that seemed to last eons, in which she ran and ran and ran. Until she had lost all bearings and coherence, and boarded the rickety ferry that took her from the land of her birthplace, of Mother, of betrayal, to a strange and beautiful new kingdom across the tumultuous sea. An ache throbbed strong and steady in her chest. Messalina doubted she would ever come to understand Mother—the Enchantress—at all. No matter how many scrolls she scoured, she had found only a few that had mentioned Algernon, and only in brief passages that revealed nothing she didn’t already know. It’s better this way, she sighed. For deep in her heart, the girl was terrified of the truth.
Lost in her recollections, Messalina failed to notice the presence of another until a faint whisper upon the ocean wind trailed past her ears. She stiffened in alarm—for who was mad enough to be here of all places this late in the night? Exempting herself, of course. Sharp eyes scanned swiftly across the pitch-black horizon, until she detected an anomaly in the starless void. It was… another girl? Considering the circumstances, the stranger was either hopelessly lost, or a newcomer whose legs still wobbled from the abrupt shift from sea to land. Messalina heaved a sigh of reluctance as her legs slowly moved closer towards the delicate, painted figure. She had received kindness from the natives upon her own arrival; it was time for her to repay her debt.
"Good evening. Are you perhaps… a newcomer?” she asked, tone clipped and distant, yet polite nonetheless. "It is such a bitterly cold night—please, I bid you to follow me further inland before you freeze in this ocean wind.”
Humor, humor. The solemn girl was learning of jest from the raucous Denoctians and their nightly war of words. In all honesty, she used to think herself a rather sardonic creature—that is, before she had spent countless evenings lingering in the shadows of Denocte’s pubs and markets. She had been limited in the usage of such language in her years with Mother, learning to hold her tongue before she’d ever reached the age of adolescent rebellion. Her mouth dripped honey and mead instead of the poison that leaked so superfluously from the lips of the sharp-tongued Denoctians—Messalina hoped she could learn their art quickly.
In truth, the ivory girl had developed a bit of an odd habit of visiting strange places well past their acceptable hours. (Case in point—her pre-dawn meeting with the Regent deep in the citadel of Delumine.) It had been a drab day, the sudden snowstorm keeping even the rowdy citizens of the Night Court off the streets, preferring to stay cozy and warm in their stone-cobbled homes. Yet dreary and uneventful days tended to lead to insomnia at night for Messalina, her dancer’s bones aching for her to do something, even if it was utterly idiotic and against her better judgement. So when the snow settled, a pristine white blanket encasing Denocte in an uncharacteristic hush of solemnity, Messalina bundled herself up neat and tidy, plaited her hair, and set off into the ominous night.
She heard the restless ocean miles before her cerulean eyes finally drank in its inky depths. Even an entity as vast and eternal as the sea could not avoid winter’s frosty touch—for a thick layer of snow lay undisturbed across what would be a golden bed of sand. Smelling the briny air, observing the white froth of the crashing waves, barely visible under a weakly glowing moon—Messalina was suddenly reminded of how she had entered the land of Novus, many months ago. Strange—it had felt a lifetime ago.
Panic and fear were the strongest memories. A night that seemed to last eons, in which she ran and ran and ran. Until she had lost all bearings and coherence, and boarded the rickety ferry that took her from the land of her birthplace, of Mother, of betrayal, to a strange and beautiful new kingdom across the tumultuous sea. An ache throbbed strong and steady in her chest. Messalina doubted she would ever come to understand Mother—the Enchantress—at all. No matter how many scrolls she scoured, she had found only a few that had mentioned Algernon, and only in brief passages that revealed nothing she didn’t already know. It’s better this way, she sighed. For deep in her heart, the girl was terrified of the truth.
Lost in her recollections, Messalina failed to notice the presence of another until a faint whisper upon the ocean wind trailed past her ears. She stiffened in alarm—for who was mad enough to be here of all places this late in the night? Exempting herself, of course. Sharp eyes scanned swiftly across the pitch-black horizon, until she detected an anomaly in the starless void. It was… another girl? Considering the circumstances, the stranger was either hopelessly lost, or a newcomer whose legs still wobbled from the abrupt shift from sea to land. Messalina heaved a sigh of reluctance as her legs slowly moved closer towards the delicate, painted figure. She had received kindness from the natives upon her own arrival; it was time for her to repay her debt.
eyes so blue,
I drown.
I drown.
@Noctiilucent
messa's thoughts are all over the place ^^;
messa's thoughts are all over the place ^^;
