[ CLOSED♥ ] NOVUS rpg
[P] when you hurt under the surface - Printable Version

+- [ CLOSED♥ ] NOVUS rpg (https://novus-rpg.net)
+-- Forum: Realms (https://novus-rpg.net/forumdisplay.php?fid=5)
+--- Forum: Denocte (https://novus-rpg.net/forumdisplay.php?fid=17)
+---- Forum: Archives (https://novus-rpg.net/forumdisplay.php?fid=95)
+---- Thread: [P] when you hurt under the surface (/showthread.php?tid=6251)



when you hurt under the surface - Katniss - 01-29-2021



If anyone has any doubts about their own self-worth, it is Katniss. So much has happened in her life, many of which she wishes she could forget altogether. She wishes she hadn’t abandoned her daughters, she wishes Metaphor hadn’t died, she wishes she had been a better mother, lover, and soldier.

Even at her core, Katniss puts so much stock in friendship. Deep down, Katniss is a genuine individual that seeks companionship in the form of friendship. She had Kibou and she had Fininck, but what Katniss craved even more than that was a connection with someone that wasn’t family or her bonded. She enjoys having idle conversations with others about nothing in particular. It’s freeing. It makes her forget all that has happened in her life and allows her to just be herself, if only for a moment.

So when she saw Kassandra in the champion gathering, she cannot help but wonder if something was amiss. She had spoken to the mare once before and she seemed friendly enough. But at that gathering, she seemed almost conflicted. Katniss couldn’t put her finger on the why or how, but she felt like Kassandra might need a friend or guidance.

It was this thought that brought her into the center of the court on his early morning. She meandered idly, looking for the blue and silver mare. She can hear the citizens as they awake and begin to go about their day. She can hear the laughter of children and the scolding of mothers. It brings her peace. But none of it belongs to Kassandra.

Eventually, she finds the mare and steps closer. Once at a respectable distance, she offers the mare a smile and a dip of her head in greeting. “Good morning Kassandra. Might I have a word with you?” She doesn’t know how to approach the topic and her mind is still sifting through all possible ways to start the conversation. She motions to her satchel and for a quiet patch of grass beneath a towering oak. “Will you share a meal with me?” Food was always something that won over her own heart, so just maybe she might appreciate the gesture. Katniss only wanted to make the meeting feel like a meeting of friends rather than an intervention.

@Kassandra





RE: when you hurt under the surface - Kassandra - 02-06-2021


what happens to a dream deferred?


Another night of sleeping eluding her, another night spent wandering around the Night Markets. There were tired lines in her face and bags beneath her eyes and a restless stirring in her soul that kept her legs moving. She had no answers, had spoken to a goddess and received no answers, and now, the worst of it, was she was beginning to forget the questions. They were losing their shape, becoming fuzzy. Why did it matter? What prodded her, ate at her so, to push her to such insomnia? Why did she matter? What of her dreams? Where had they gone? Had they ever really existed in the first place.

Though he would never abandon her, Oculos was one dumb comment away from letting her spend a nighttimes worth of meandering on her own while he slept. He had tried to tell her, over and over again: of course, she mattered; of course, she’d had dreams, and, honestly, who gave a fuck if they were actually prophetic? Why was her self worth so wrapped up in that? He had no answers, either, but mostly because he thought her questions were dumb.

It was a dewy sort of late summer morning when Katniss called upon her. The chocolate-colored mare had a complexion that always made her look like she was walking in the shining light of a honeycomb-glassed window; her flaxen mane and tail glittered like pale gold. She carried herself with the lift of a warrior and compared to Kass’ bulky, uncoordinated heft, she was like a fine blade moving through space.

Kassandra’s first reaction at being summoned by the Night Court Champion of Battle is an instant feeling of stomach-dropping terror, like she is a small child that has done some disrespectful thing and is about to be brought before the parent for a tongue-lashing, or a real one. It was something she had experienced more than a few times in her life for reasons she still could not understand, even when she sat and really, really thought. It was an odd occurrence, for someone who did not actually have parents.

Still, Katniss seems amiable-- always has, for someone so respected on the battlefield. Before meeting her, Kassandra always imagined the Champion to be blusterous and burly and always in some stage of blood-covered. Children’s nightmares, she later found out. “Of course, my lady,” Kassandra says, a smile finding it’s way to her face despite her exhaustion. It is genuine, as she usually is. Kassandra likes living, and she likes people, and though she doesn’t realize it, the act of someone seeking her out fills her with more self confidence than she’d had in ages. “I would love to break my fast with you.”

She follows Katniss over to the grassy spot in question and waits politely for the higher-ranking mare to choose her spot before Kass chooses her own. “I apologize for not being able to provide anything for this get together, I… wasn’t planning on eating quite yet.” It was an obvious statement (who plans to bring fodder to an impromptu picnic?) and also a lie. Kassandra had not eaten a real meal in as long as she had not slept a full night.

Oculos tucked his haunches in a sit and took up a spot by his companion, waiting for the food to be doled out, ears at full perk.

“I have to say I’m really appreciative of how you’ve handled all the recent changes,” Kassandra said, earnest, “I can only imagine it must be quite difficult for someone as devoted as you to stand their ground while everything… shifts so drastically.”


@Katniss,
"Speech."





RE: when you hurt under the surface - Katniss - 03-17-2021



Even though the silver black mare is a warrior, she is a soft sort of creature. She is most certainly her mother’s daughter and it shows. Her mother had a kind soul and offered everyone she encountered some respect, even if they did not deserve it. Her mother’s feathers rarely got ruffled and when they did, it was because someone had threatened her own children. She was the best mother, a mother Katniss did not deserve. And yet, she loved Jaye. She loved her unconditionally.

It was because of her mother’s empathy that Katniss is softer than most soldiers. She has a way about people that makes them easy to talk to, easy to read, and always feeling relaxed in her presence. Katniss was a strange soldier in the sense that she used her honest nature to try to talk diplomacy before battle. Most would run hard into the front lines of battle while Katniss preferred less aggressive measures if at all possible. When those failed, she would act as she had been trained.

It was this empathetic side of her that had brought her to seek out Kassandra on this very beautiful morning. Katniss knew something was wrong, even if she didn’t understand the details. She wanted to speak to the blue and silver mare, but in a way that the mare wouldn’t feel threatened or pushed in a corner. She wanted to let her know that she had Katniss as a friend, an ear to listen to, and a shoulder to cry on. She wanted the mare to know that she was not alone, no matter what troubled her.

Thankfully, Kassandra was willing to sit with her and share a meal. Katniss offered her a fine smile, genuine and full of hope and joy. She leads the other to the grassy spot beneath the tall oak before lowering herself to the ground. When the other has finally joined her, she begins to unpack the spread she has prepared. It’s simple, bread and jam with some assorted fruits and nuts. It’s not the breakfast of a queen, but it’s an delicious one.

When Kassandra begins to speak, apologizing for not being able to provide any food for this picnic, Katniss shakes her head softly. “There is no need to apologize. I have more than enough for us both. Please, enjoy.” She motions at the food before she takes a slice of the fresh French loaf and spreads a heaping layer of apple jam on it. She bites into it, allowing the sweetness of the flavors to saturate her senses before she finally swallows. She gives Kassandra a little time to gather her breakfast, showing her that all was well by eating some herself. Finnick, ever watchful, perches himself in the oak as he looks down at his bonded. He hopes that there is leftovers because apple jam is his favorite. Katniss can hear the way he practically drools above her and for a moment, her eyes glance up at him, offering him a glare of warning. This was not for him.

But before she can breech the subject of why she has called Kassandra here, the mare is already speaking. Katniss turns her attention back to the other, listening quietly. She sighs softly when she is finish, thinking thoughtfully. “Denocte’s interests have always been my own. While so many things have changed, my goal still remains the same. I still want Denocte to thrive. I will always support my court, in whatever way it demands of me. There is no need to tank me for putting Denocte first, it is only sensible and right.” Katniss had always been uncomfortable when she was paid compliments. Never did she do an action for recognition, only because it was what her heart told her was right and true. Perhaps that is why she hates her title of Champion. Even in the core of her soul, she is just a soldier, fighting for her home and her freedom. The title puts her on a pedestal, something she doesn’t’ feel like she deserves.

But this meeting was not to puff up her feathers or her ego. This was about friendship. As Katniss has said, she will always do what is right for her home. Right now, that meant showing Kassandra that she was a friend. “…but I did not call you here this morning to talk about myself.” Her voice is soft, and there is a sense of uncertainty present, much more likened to nervousness rather than true uncertainty. “At the gathering, I noticed you seemed a little off, not really like yourself.” While Kassandra was not her best friend and their conversations had never been deep or frequent, she still noticed that something was not quite right. “I won’t’ pretend I know why, nor will I ask you to share, but I want you to know my hut is always opened. I will always have the time to sit and listen. And if there is anything I can do to make you smile again, please let me know and I will do it.” She wants to see the sparkle in her eye again, the hope and joy filling her soul. She just wants to let her know that she is here and available to be whatever Kassandra needs her to be.

@Kassandra





RE: when you hurt under the surface - Kassandra - 03-31-2021


what happens to a dream deferred?


There is a hardness in Kas that was not there before. It forms at the edge of her width and her height, forming angles and sharp corners. Her patience, once an endless river, dries like water in the harsh sun. Her tongue is loose and envenomed. She snaps when bothers and snaps at things that aren’t there. Her body is a lash and she attacks at the slightest provocations of thoughts in her head-- dark ones, harsh ones, scalding ones. A heated juxtaposition to how she has been for so long. A lifetime of cruelty and side-eyes and forced distance had not worked to harden her and now, surrounded by some semblance of found family, with friends, a home, and a free life, now she had chosen to give herself edges.

Being raised in a silver cage and having access only to what others want you to know leaves one unprepared for the wide world at large, and, once upon a time, that had not mattered. Kas had been a cup brimming with questions that could not overflow even when topped up with answers. Now her cup was cracked and brittle, questions hurt, and gaps in her knowledge made her wince and feel insecure. She began to sweat, sitting across from Katniss, and feel like a silly little fool, some soft milkchild all wrapped in tattered blue silk. She wanted to apologize just for being, for breathing. Worst of all, she did not know where this writing sense of inferiority was coming from.

Katniss radiated warmth and a light, like a sunlit arrow flying true and constant, a projectile that was always on target. Kassandra was slightly unsteady on her feet, heavy with her words, and had to talk her panicked mind down from the ledge. There was no trap to walk into here. The Champion of Battle denies her apology and bids her eat.

Kassandra prepares a slice of thick bread and jam for Oculos and passes it to him. He takes his time to lick the preserves from the loaf slowly, savoring the sweetness, before he starts worrying on the crust. Kas, nauseated and ravenous at the same time, nibbles on a sweet summer apple. “Thank you, Champion,” she whispers, finding her voice somewhere, like stumbling over the fading embers of a dying fire.

The wizened champion gently admonishes Kas for her praise, professing she is only doing what is right, and what should be done. “Still.” Kas ponders, tonguing sour fruit in her cheek. “Still. At such a grand crossroads, there are many directions to go. I know you feel you should not be thanked for staying your path, but it is a comfort all the same.”

I did not call this meeting to talk about myself, and Kassandra’s heart turned to ice and, heavy and sharp, plummeted through her body. She listened, hardly able to breathe. I noticed you seemed a little off, not really like yourself. Kassandra laughed before she could swallow it, a high, reedy, nasally giggle that bordered on a snort. Oculos raised an eyebrow at her.

I won’t pretend I know why, nor will I ask you to share. “I am glad of this, because, in truth, I don’t know why myself.” Silver eyes gaze down at their meager but filling feast, head dipped in shame. She hadn’t meant for her darkness to be a burden on anyone else. “Ever since C-- the coronation,” she changes the words because Caligo’s name is fire on her tongue, “I’ve not… been able to settle.” She met Katniss’ gaze with irises that shivered, uncertain. She did not want to speak blasphemies though she wanted greatly to blaspheme.

The moment of insecurity passed. Kassandra nailed her courage to the sticking place and picked up her head, averting her eyes and forcing bravado back into her voice as she busied herself with bread and jam. “I just haven’t been sleeping well, is all.” A bite, a gentle smile, and a swallow. “I appreciate your concern, but you needn’t trouble yourself with my troubled sleep.”

Oculos sat down and exhaled a tense breath, resting his head on his long front limbs with the quietest of whines.


@Katniss,
"Speech."





RE: when you hurt under the surface - Katniss - 04-08-2021



It is soothing to see the blue and silver mare finally begin to settle into her seat and prepare her meal. She smiles at the way she offers the food to the canine and already she can hear the way Finnick protests. If her bonded can have food, why can’t he? Katniss wants to bore her eyes into him but instead settles on words thick with judgement, but only for his ears to hear. “Not now, Finnick. You will get leftovers if you are patient. Please be so.” The branches rustle above them as the eagle hops onto a higher branch. He’s tempted to spread his wings and fly away, but he stays where he is. After all, his bonded needs protection…from what, he is unsure.

The other begins to nibble on an apple and Katniss wants to tell her to indulge herself, but she has this inkling feeling that the mare is eating all she wants for now. So Katniss says nothing, at least not about her lack of appetite. “Please, it’s just Katniss.” She has never liked the idea of titles, putting herself above everyone else on some sort of pedestal. Some like the way it makes them feel above the rest, but Katniss still feels like just another individual. Sure, she might have duties that supersede another’s, but Katniss does not feel as though she is above anyone else.

But Katniss continues, choosing not to focus on the title, or the praise the other offers her. While Katniss has never really considered herself a humble person, she supposes that many might call her such a thing when she was being was herself, true to her very nature at her core.

But again, they are not here to discuss herself. Katniss can see the way the other seems to recoil at the idea that she had come to talk about the other. Katniss can tell she’s made Kassandra uncomfortable and she tries to put the mare’s fears aside, telling her she had not come to any sort of explanation about why she did not seem herself. In the end, it didn’t matter. Katniss didn’t need to know why and it certainly wasn’t her place and she recognized that.

Kassandra begins to speak, saying that since the coronation, she has been unable to settle. Katniss looks at her concerned, her eyes soft and wishing only that she could make the other feel better. She goes on to explain that she had been unable to sleep, but that she shouldn’t trouble herself with her issues. Katniss sighs. “I may be a soldier, but I cannot help my desire to heal as well.” She quiet a moment as she take another bite of bread and jam. “I know a good medic here in Denocte. Maybe she can give you something to help you find rest - rest is so important for the healing of both physical and emotional wounds.” She knows that Kassandra is holding back, but she doesn’t want to be rude and pry.

In the end, Katniss knows that the best way to build trust was to offer up something in exchange. Not many know of her darkest times, when she felt as though the world was ending…of when she thought about throwing herself off the mountain. “I lost someone very dear to me several years ago. He was taken from me prematurely and left me with a son to raise without a father…” She can feel the tear begin to build in the corner of her eye and she blinks so not to appear as though she wanted to cry. “After his untimely death, I slipped into a dark depression. I did not eat, I did not sleep, I could not find joy in anything…not even the son I felt move in my womb.” She looked away for a moment. It was so hard to talk about the darkest part of her life. But she needed to share this information. She needed to build trust with Kassandra. “Many times I thought about jumping off the mountain so I might be with him again. It was a very dark time in my life and I didn’t have anyone to be a friend to me.” She sighed a moment before she rose her gaze to settle on Kassandra. “I just don’t want you to feel as though you are all alone. I am here for you. I can be whatever and whoever you need.” Whether it be a shoulder to cry on, an ear to listen, or just a presence. Katniss didn’t have to know the specifics, but she would be there for her herd - in all ways, not just on the battlefield. She could only hope Kassandra saw that and believed it.

@Kassandra





RE: when you hurt under the surface - Kassandra - 04-11-2021


what happens to a dream deferred?


The scant amount of food was making Kassandra’s stomach twist, pins and needles in the lining of her gut. Caught somewhere between the compulsion to take what was offered to not seem rude, but not wanting to take too much and seem rude, and ultimately not having an appetite, she dropped her eyes to focus on a snag in the blanket until the nausea subsided. Unfettered by her courtly concepts of restraint, Oculos had finished his provision and had set his narrow head along the trough of his narrow paws to watch the rest of the meal with raised brows, a soft sparkle of want in his brown eyes. A typical hound begging at the lunch table.

Kassandra is heavily aware of Finnick above her, hears him rustling in the boughs of the oak. She imagines the tree come winter, a barren and foreboding wolf oak, a sentinel of the Night Court and a symbol of Caligo. The thought brings a wry, sour smile to her face; maybe that’s why being in the Court unsettles her so. She is surrounded by facsimiles of the goddess who looked right in her eyes and mocked her. No wonder she feels so precarious on ground which once felt like home to her.

“Katniss,” Kassandra relents. As though that is all it will ever be. An impossibility. Katniss has been a stanchion of this community for as long as Kassandra had been in Novus. To separate the woman from the title? Hopeless. Still, Kas could imagine someone as humble and noble as Katniss flustering at being raised up, like the solid ground beneath you was far below and made of gold.

There is a tactile gentleness in the warrior radiating off of her in waves. It is comforting, despite Kassandra’s hesitancy to speak. The barrier is not outward. There is not an external force pressing her into such a corner. No, the palisade was existential, and a suffering from within. A hitch in her internal giddy-up that sent her wheels off-kilter. And while Kassandra does not imagine there is any ostensible balm which could be applied to her hurts and missed rhythms, she does admit that Katniss is only trying to help, so she listens. “It had not occurred to me to seek medical help,” Kass admitted, sounding a bit dumbfounded. “But perhaps a sleeping draught would help bring some… clarity.” Would her demons partake?

And then, to Kassandra’s great surprise, Katniss seems to waver, a flinch in the muscles of the hand knocking the arrow. There is a gleam in her eyes which shines of sorrow, and a vicious, clawed hand wrenches Kassandra’s guts as Katniss begins to spill her own. The Champion’s words were heavy and dug long furrows in the ground beneath them, like remnants of long ago glaciers shaping the world as they knew it; shaping the relationship between the two women.

After a time of silence, where Kassandra fought back her own tears, she inhaled a steady, sharp breath, and nodded. “I’m sorry you’ve suffered so,” she said, though none of the fault was her own, and, like outside forces on her own private pandemonium, her words could do nothing for the remaining scars. But even then Kassandra fought stubbornly against the offer of comfort. Katniss had suffered! She had lost love and been left with the remnants of it. Compared to that, Kassandra’s troubles cut like baby teeth at the gum.

“My own troubles are quite trivial, compared to that,” Kassandra explained, eager to assuage Katniss’ worries. “Mostly, they stem from the horrible thought that there is no one at the helm of the world-- at least, no one who cares.” And there, it was out, in as gentle of terms as she could possibly conure. The shame made her look away. But here was her fear-- that Gods were flippant and trifling beasts, beautiful and horrible, and looked upon them like ants on a log headed to a funeral pyre. And herein is the difference between Katniss’ hurts-- real, visceral, able to be touched and felt-- and Kassandra’s silly thoughts, dark monkeys on her shoulders digging invisible marks into her skin with vicious, intangible claws.


@Katniss,
"Speech."
idk what it is about this thread that makes me word vomit but i'm sorry





RE: when you hurt under the surface - Katniss - 04-18-2021



Katniss did not miss the way Kassandra was refusing the meal. She knew that feeling. She had been there. She did not find it rude, but she was very thankful she at least tried. Even if she did not have an appetite, her bonded did. Katniss could see the way he laid his eyes on the food, asking, begging, for just another nibble. While she could understand the other, his body language spoke volumes. “Help yourself…there is plenty.” Her eyes rested on the canine, encouraging him to eat his fill. He could hear Finnick in the tree tops above, mumbling beneath his breath about how he wanted some food too. Katniss had already told him he could have the leftovers and if there was not, Katniss would provide some for him. He clearly did not like that answer and jumped to a higher branch out of spite.

The conversation easily moved to Katniss suggesting that the other see a medic. A sleeping potion of some kind might help her. And when she finally seems to agree, Katniss cannot help but smile softly. “Her name is Luvena. Tell her I sent you for some sleeping tea.” The herbs in the tea would help her sleep and the warmth of the tea would soothe her digestion. Metaphor had made a tea for every ailment and injury. He always said tea would cure anything with the right ingredients. Oh how he missed him! Her heart ached for him in this moment, but it was overshadowed by joy at the thought that her son was quickly picking up the knowledge his father had left behind.

It is in this moment that she speaks of her loss, of her fight to be happy again, of her will to live. While her story starts off as one of sadness, she hopes the other can see the promise of hope and a future. Despite her depression, Katniss has overcome her obstacles and now, she wouldn’t dream of leaping off the mountain. She found joy in her son, in her court, and in the relationships she had. The curtains had been pulled open and just in time. For any longer in her depression and Katniss would not be here sharing her story.

What Katniss had not anticipated was for Kassandra to feel as though her troubles were less than her own. Everyone had their own troubles and it was not right to judge them on the same scale. Everyone was different and their degree to cope varied. “I care…” It may not mean much, but Katniss cared. “I have never been one to believe in gods. The soldier in me does not like the notion that they can sit up in the stars and order us around without having suffered through what we have.” She pauses a little, her eyes resting softly on the other. “It is hard for me to respect a leader who does not fight alongside her people.” And there it was, the truth about her feelings on the Gods. While she respected that many held them in such high standards and elevated them on pedestals, Katniss could not truly respect them until they too came to live amongst their people.

@Kassandra – because this is an amazing thread <3





RE: when you hurt under the surface - Kassandra - 08-15-2021


what happens to a dream deferred?


Try as she might to present a facade of frosted stone, Katniss still looked at her as though she was a possibility. A hope. Kassandra allowed her lunar silver gaze to slip over the warrior’s muscled, tawny shoulders for just a moment, threatening to go somewhere… else. Somewhere beyond, where the visions took her.

Katniss’ voice anchored her, and Kas dragged in a breath, exhaled, pulled herself back into her physical body. Her steely eyelids fluttered, and then her teeth were a white string of pearls. "I fear you may regret that soon,” Kas said, her voice rising into a giggle, as Oculos’ tongue lashed against his lips with a snap and he dove into an open jar of what appeared to be marmalade. "Ock, your fur. It’s going to be a mess.” But he paid his companion no mind, and went happily licking away.

A sigh escaped her then, her first, unmeasured breath of the encounter. A knot released in her chest. She settled into herself, slightly, and felt more stable than she had for a while. The branches above her rustled with Finnick’s movement but did not drive chill fear through her skin. She helped herself to a larger bite of the apple, focusing on its snap and taste over the lingering nausea in her stomach.

At the mention of Luvena’s name, Kassandra’s eyes lit up. "I know her!” She smiled again and found it came easier. “I met her protecting a beggar in the night from a foul gentleman. She’s quite lovely.” Kas had a vague notion Luvena was some sort of healer-- but she was, wasn’t she? She was the healer. For the entire Court. Certainly a point Kas overlooked. When she spoke to Luvena she’d been exhausted and bedraggled. She hoped she had not been rude.

When Katniss spoke of her own relationship with belief, and religion, and the higher powers lording over them all, Kas sobered. She listened with focused ears, trained eyes. And the words she spoke rang true in Kas’ heart like a pealing bell. Still, she was quiet, when she spoke. "What do they know of our minds? Of what makes us?” She asked, wanting to be assured, to be explained. "How can they, when they are stardust and suns and intangible things?”


@Katniss,
"Speech."
blasphemers