Love, love is a verb Love is a doing word Feathers on my breath Gentle impulsion Shakes me, makes me lighter Fearless on my breath Teardrop on the fire Fearless on my breath;
There was a subtle comfort in the silence that surrounded the forest around Suriel. She took a deep breath of the clean air, and even though the trees around her were thick and tall, she still felt nice here. She still felt at home. Her white muzzle pressed against the air and she took another deep whiff, closing her eyes with a satisfied feeling curling up inside her. Sometimes Suriel even wondered about her mother, Catarina, and whether or not she felt any guilt for what she did to her. But there really wasn't any need to concern herself with that. She had friends, well, she had some friends. She had a purpose in life or she hoped to find one. She took in another breath before opening her eyes.
She hadn't been traveling for too long, but now the darkness was slightly lighter though still considered 'night' and she wondered if she had been out here all night, she couldn't remember. Time seemed to fly by so fast sometimes, out alone in the woods on the border of these lands she had come across. A soft breeze ruffled through her little spot and she was brought back to the present. It was still dark, but the moon was hidden behind some sneaky clouds.
Of course, the night was beautiful, and she could stick around until the sun came up at least. A little tune slowly began to burble out of her, in just a soft little hum, so she wouldn't make herself fall asleep. Slowly though, words began to form and she couldn't help herself, but she made sure not to fall asleep herself, trying to turn it outwards. The words always came naturally to her, like it was her own little language, but that's what had helped her get through her day. It seemed silly now, yet the song still came so natural and easy. She kept it soft though, without the gusto she usually sang it with, merely singing it to herself. The sky didn't seem to be getting any brighter, but Suriel didn't feel as tired anymore, even a little more awake. Perhaps her songs could do what they liked for her.
he used to wonder what a forest was like. Towering trees like silent guardians, reaching up to the heavens. Rabbits hiding in their burrows as their pelts, still mottled with wintry-white, warned against careless excursions in the open. The sweet serenades of finches and thrushes and warblers. Was a forest really so beautiful as to inspire the thick volumes of poetry she had purused in her spare hours? Messalina had once brought the idea of visiting a forest up to Mother, on a lovely spring morning—it was rejected with the same unenthused “I think not, my sweet,” that ended all of the girl's propositions.
Well, after picking her way through a never-ending stretch of forest for more than a week, Messalina can effectively conclude that forests are not, in fact, as wonderful as they are made to sound.
It was day twenty-five. Twenty-five shivering nights since that nightmare of a day, and here she was, still hopelessly lost and probably never finding her way out of this blasted forest. She ducked her head to pass under a low branch, and winced as a strand of her braid caught onto it. Stamping a hoof in frustration, she carefully worked her hair loose while sweeping the long locks of her tail out of the way to avoid another entanglement.
Though she had been on the run and far from any sort of civilization for weeks, that didn’t give one an excuse to let one’s physical appearance reflect the direness of the situation. It took her many mistakes and silent curses (never aloud, that wasn’t proper) to learn how to bathe herself in the lakes she encountered, and to work out brambles and twigs from her flowing locks without ruining the strands. She frowned at the piece that now protruded from her braids. Her morning’s labor was ruined by one branch, and that was almost enough to sour her already dreadful mood.
As she prepared to unravel her plait and redo it, a soft melody reached her ears from among the trees. The presence of another? Messalina's breath stilled as she willed herself to repress any expectations. The last time she expected something, that ended in Mother vanishing into thin air and enraged citizens brandishing torches at her. She would remain wary until the stranger proved to be without hostile intent. Silently, she followed the voice until it originated from somewhere just in front of her. Through the darkness of the night, she made out the form of the night singer.
A maiden of white feathers, edged with blush pink, stood under the light of the moon. Her eyes were closed, evidently lost to her melody as she sang. Messalina surveyed the maiden, from the way her snowy wings folded elegantly around her, to the graceful arch of her neck. From the way she held herself, Messalina assumed she was of a noble's status, or at least educated at that level. It made approaching her more desirable, but the girl sighed as she took in her own appearance. The stranger was a thing of beauty, and Messalina despised having to face her in her current condition.
However, survival came first. With resignation, Messalina approached the mare until she was a respectable distance away. She lowered herself into a short but elegant bow as she spoke. "I am sorry to interrupt, but I wish to ask if you are familiar with these lands." She hesitated for a moment before continuing on. "I am a traveler, and weary of the restless nights. I would be pleased to learn if there was a town nearby where I could stay."
frozen hearts growing colder with time
@Suriel suriel is so pretty! excited to rp with her ^^
Love, love is a verb Love is a doing word Feathers on my breath Gentle impulsion Shakes me, makes me lighter Fearless on my breath Teardrop on the fire Fearless on my breath;
Suriel had been so distracted by her song that she hadn't completely noticed anyone else out and about. But just as she neared the end of her song, she heard the voice and tensed slightly..afraid it might have been one of the warriors of dawn come to lecture her for being out here so late. Turning her bright gaze toward the voice, she was a little relieved to know it was just an..stranger? She assumed she was anyway, she didn't know her at any rate nor remembered seeing her face anywhere within the city. No time like now to get to know her she supposed. Her ears twitched forward slightly when the newcomer began to speak. The mare was pretty though..if not a little worse for wear, nothing a good washing couldn't help with.
Remembering her manners she gave a slight nod of her head in greeting and managed a small smile to the girl. "You're not interrpting, it's quite alright. I..am not very familiar with these lands I'm afraid however, I'm rather new myself but I do know where a city is." Suriel offered the girl as she glanced over her for a moment. "If you would like I could take you there, I've recently made a home for myself in the city. And before I forget my manners, I am Suriel." The young princess introduced herself as she remembered she hadn't given her name to the girl yet. She might come from royalty but here she was just a simple woman, no land or title to claim here..yet.
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. “That would be lovely. I am glad to hear my journey is close to reaching an end.”
She let a smile grace her face, dipping her head in acknowledgement as the maiden revealed her name. “A pleasure, Lady Suriel. Please, do not fret about your manners, for it was silly of me to forget my own introductions. I am Messalina, and I hope to make your acquaintance along the way.”
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.
