He blew in like a storm cloud on the breeze, though there was a slight hesitance in his step as he made his way right into the heart of the Night Court. He hoped that despite the smells of the desert that clung to his skin like a jealous lover, that it was clear that he was here as a visitor rather than on any sort of official business. He was not here to make trouble for himself, not when the Denocte citizens were some of his favorite customers. They were some of the few that asked him to make beautiful things, incredible wonders of beauty and practicality that made his heart sing like a hallelujah chorus. He felt that swell begin to rise in his chest, his sky-blue gaze flitting across the marketplace with an undeniable spark. The tensions between Day and Night had been troubling to say the least, given that his business tended to expand well beyond the borders of Solterra. His loyalties lay with the desert heat and the ones who raised him and such strife had been causing him great grief. He had friends in every corner of Novus and it was disheartening to see them fussing -- but now with Maxence dead (or so it was presumed), he had not the slightest inkling of how he would be received.
The delicate wings that bore themselves like a crown, set just behind his slightly curved ears, fluttered softly and ruffled the strands of ivory and charcoal colored hair. He could imagine this place at night, the torches lit and the streets full of music. It was starkly different now, most of Denocte tended to revel in the night and thus being mid-day he imagined that most of them were asleep. There were still a few citizens who were going about their business, but not as many as he imagined there would have been if he had come a little closer to dusk. Despite the full sun of noon, Solis' toiling away above them as he moved the giant ball of light across the sky, it was chilly as autumn's grip was beginning to slide towards the winter. He had noticed on his way here that many of the trees were empty, barren of their symphony of colored leaves. He did not mind the winter as much as others did, but he had the advantage of living in the warmth of Mors so he supposed his opinion on the matter did not count.
His feet clicked upon the stones of the street, his saddle bag brimming with months of work for various clients and hopefully just to sell in the markets tonight. The stallion turned his head, looking for a space that looked relatively unused as he did not want to be rude an d take up prime space, since he was not a regular patron to the court of Night. The place he chose was just off to the right of the general area, a particular booth that looked as though it had seen better days. He supposed it would be helpful if he cleaned it up a bit, thus he set his saddlebag down against the back wall and began the meticulous task of cleaning up. It would help kill time, and perhaps let the others get used to him before the night settled in and he had to actually work on his sales pitch.
t had been but two days since she arrived in the court of Night, but it had felt like a hundred. Denocte was a land where night reigned over day, a place where the sun’s heated rays only dared to shine down for mere hours before relinquishing its hold yet again to Caligo’s star-strewn skies. It was a court of mystery, a court where an ancient magic coursed thick and strong through the veins of every Denoctian. Messalina saw it linger in the candlelit alleyways, where lilting melodies streamed softly from the shadows; she felt it bloom in the lithe frames of gypsy dancers, their golden baubles clinking to the beat of their seamless movements.
Never had the girl been surrounded by more life and unbridled talent than in her short stay here, and even she, the epitome of an unwavering soul, found it harder by the hour to resist the pull of that wild magic. Notions of leaving strayed farther from her mind the longer she stayed.
A small satchel of fine velvet—her first purchase from the court’s bustling market square—held the remainder of her coin, and it thumped steadily on her side as she walked, ivory hooves adorned with dainty golden bands clicking against the cobblestones. The streets were quiet, nothing like the bustling crowds she had encountered on her first day. After a night of festivals and bonfires, she'd been curious of the city’s day life, and had headed out just as the sun rose to its highest point in the sky. It would soon descend, and the streets would once again fill with joviality. But right now, she found the calmness to be comforting. The familiarity of solitude settled back around her like a blanket, her steps regaining their measured grace as she roamed down a peculiar side alley and arrived at a narrow lane full of booths.
The merchants had begun to set up their wares, preparing for night's arrival and the foreign purses weighted with gold that would follow, hers among them. The Night Court's markets fascinated Messalina. Back in Algernon she’d been restricted from leaving the confines of the castle, let alone visit a market, and everything she owned had been selected by Mother. Every experience thus far had been novel, and along the way she'd discovered a newfound pleasure in purchasing and donning beautiful things; she had high hopes for improving her collection in a kingdom as famed for their goods as Denocte.
A slight breeze blew a curled strand of her forelock across her frosted blue eyes, and she smoothed it back behind a slender ear as her attention was drawn to a booth tucked in the shadows. She would have missed it if it were not for the scattering of prismatic light that appeared on the ground in front of her, and the ivory mare drew closer.
A quiet breath escaped from her lips as her eyes feasted on the exquisite jewelry pieces laid carefully out on a velvet cloth. They were divine, the craftsmanship as fine as the ones worn by the noblewomen that she'd always secretly yearned for. Entranced, her gaze fell on an intricate headpiece of fine golden chains, dotted with tiny glimmering gems of the palest blue. It was only then that she registered the presence of another, and her startled eyes flicked up to peer deep into ones of a shade similar to her own. After a pause to gather herself, she spoke. "Are you the one behind these creations? They’re lovely,” and her gaze dropped again to the jewels, lips arched in the faintest trace of a wistful smile.
frozen hearts growing colder with time
@Zosimos hope you don't mind me dropping Messa in here! she's just a sucker for pretty things (simos included ;u;)
He enjoyed working with his hands, whether that was hunching over and peering intently into the face of his art like a mother looking at her child or swinging the hammer hard enough to beat the metal into submission. Sometimes he could hear the hammer strike iron in his dreams, or wake up next to a blazing forge on the nights when his mind was particularly unsettled. His creation was his therapy, along with the tiny greenhouse that he kept hidden in the forge’s back rooms. He worked now, though more now with the broom he used to usher out the dirt and cobwebs of the stall he had chosen to house his wares. He was so intent on the work that he hardly noticed the shadow pass over him -- his brows furrowed in concentration until her voice broke through.
He blinked, drawn away from his thoughts as he lifted his head to meet the eyes of a woman. His first thought was of her beauty, her coat like a luxurious cream sprinkled with cinnamon. He found himself struck by her, his throat as dry as if he had decoded to swallow all of the sand of the Mors Desert. Her eyes were like a mirror to his own sky blue ones, his work all but forgotten as he studied her. Had he any skill with paints, he might have tried to put her likeness to a canvas or if he had been any good with words he might have tried to pen a poem to explain it.
Instead, he swallowed roughly and forced a smile to his freckled lips and forced himself to look down at the piece that she was admiring. Ah, the blue one. It had taken him months to collect all the pieces, months more to create exactly the image he had held in his mind’s eye. It was one of those pieces that could imagine a man or woman wearing, one he might have kept for himself if he had not thought he would be judged by his fellow Solterrans. He closed his eyes for a moment as his smile grew into a wry grin, the pair of tiny wings situated just behind his slightly curved ears flared out. They often had a mind of their own, but he did not try this time to smooth them down. ”You have an eye for the exquisite, miss!” He said quite cheerfully, opening his eyes once more. ”Your words are too kind for a humble metalsmith, like I.” He dipped his head gently, strands of inky black hair falling forward into his face. He brushed them back, a little embarrassed by her praise. ”I gathered the stones from the bottom of the lake last summer.” He said, recalling the trouble he had went to to get them.
”I like to think that the stones drank from the summer sky’s reflection on the water.” He babbled, his smile still bright. He looked upon her again, the subtle scent of Delumine clinging to her skin like dew drops. ”I’m Simo.” He offered, settling the broom that he held telepathically aside, forgotten for now in favor of the potential customer. ”You’ll have to forgive me, I wasn’t quite ready for business yet. The markets don’t usually start until nightfall, but I suppose I should have expected the dawn-treaders to be out and about this time of day.”
@Messalina
No problem! Hope you don’t mind a chatty cathy xD
lready, the sharp chill of dusk bit into her skin as Solis’ rays waned in anticipation of Caligo’s lunar skies. Though she did not mind the cold—she’d always believed that winter’s frosted touch endowed a profound beauty upon the land—her time in temperate Delumine had worn down her tolerance. She shifted her cloak slightly, its rich burgundy folds retaining what little heat still clung to her pelt as she draped it higher upon her shoulders. Yet the dwindling light only accentuated the hue of the blue gems, their endless depths reminiscent of the mirror lake she had passed just before she’d reached the outskirts of the city. Messalina marveled once again at the piece’s craftsmanship before she reluctantly tore her gaze from it entirely, shifting instead to examine the boy behind it. What talents lay buried in his lithe, painted frame, she wondered?
The flurry of words that tumbled from him surprised the girl, as she had not expected her comment to be met with such earnest zeal. His aquamarine eyes shined as bright as his lovely creations when he spoke, and a pair of dainty wings flared out from behind his charcoal ears as if echoing his delight. She had never seen anything like it, her eyes widening a fraction in interest as she traced over the downy feathers—coupled with his nearly infectious energy, Messalina found him quite fascinating. But then she remembered her manners, and orbs of frost blue flitted away in courtesy as she received his greeting. "A pleasure, Simo. I am Messalina.” Casting her gaze down demurely, she tilted her head into an elegant incline, gossamer braids spilling forward and back again as they settled in perfect alignment across her slim neckline. "I have not come across talent such as yours in my travels. Your dedication to your craft astounds me.”
Simo was unlike anyone she had interacted with before. As part of her duties, she’d often accompanied Mother’s most esteemed clients to all types of formal events, a hollow smile permanently fixed to her countenance as she lavished flatteries upon the insufferable men. She'd had little choice but to indulge their insatiable egos the best she knew how; thankfully, shallow words whispered in a honey-sweet tone worked like a charm. But this boy, eyes as blue as a spring morning, possessed an innocence that radiated a rosy glow about his whole being, and Messalina found her lips quirking up into a smile as genuine as his. Words bubbled out of her easily, sincerity coating each syllable. "I see now why these gems sparkle so. To have their potential realized so fully would inspire any stone to shine as bright as the sun.”
As he fussed over the appearance of his booth (she was not yet aware of Denocte's odd hours of operation), her ears flicked forwards to catch his last words. How he had detected her Delumine origins mystified her, and she was not familiar enough with Novus to know which realm Simo himself hailed from. Though to Messalina, he fit Denocte’s reputation of artistry perfectly. "It is quite alright. The residents of Denocte rise with the moon, but I think the city is just as interesting in the day.” Glancing down at the piece once more, she knew she would not be able to pass up something so exquisite no matter what price the boy asked for. Gently placing her satchel in front of him, she drew out coin after coin with her newfound telepathy and aligned them properly. "Will this be enough?” She was acutely aware of how light her satchel was now that all her gold was spent, but that was alright; she would earn more that evening, as incandescent as the stars in her new treasure.
“A pretty name for a pretty lady, Messalina…” Simo said, his smile earnest as the damsel introduced herself. His bright gaze watched blithely as her eyes diverted, her tresses moving like flowers in the breeze against her skin. His realization of that gaze made him swallow with some difficulty, one of the tiny wings extending just enough to cover his face for a brief moment -- hopefully to hid the crimson stain that grew on his cheeks. “You flatter me.” He said, hoping she would think that his blush was from her kind words and not the lecherous thought that had crossed his mind just a moment before. “I am but a servant to the materials. It’s as though they sing a song, and I try my best to create the melody for them to sing with.” He did well not to stammer, though it was always easier for him to talk about his work. It was a subject he was comfortable with, and those that he met tended to be curious about it.
His gaze wandered again to the lady’s pearlescent skin -- a thing that he was sure was as smooth as a river-run stone. Her dappling was a compliment to her, rather than a blemish. He had the briefest, fuzziest memory of someone with spots in his mind’s eye -- though he doubted it could have been this woman. But who was it? And why did he think of them so suddenly, without any memory as to the context? The solterran-born took a deep breath and brought his attention back to her eyes, as lovely as the pale summer sky on Solis’ brightest day. He brushed back the entanglement of ivory and charcoal colored hair away from his face, the unruly bunch of tresses falling back into his face once more. The feathered appendages had put themselves to rest, furrowing beneath them tresses to seek out their warmth from the encroaching night.
“I suppose it could be.” He agreed, glancing around them towards the other booths. "I've never thought to look much at it during the day..." Some had come early, but others would not even grace the market until the stars began to shine. The last markets of the season were always crowded, and he hoped to garner a lot of business. He watched silently as she placed her satchel upon the counter, bringing out her coin one by one until a fair pile had gathered there next to the piece she had been admiring. He chuckled, meeting her eye briefly before reaching out to take just one of the coins she had offered. “I don’t give things away for free. But I can’t say that I’ve ever seen you before...and if you promise to tell your friends where you found this, I’ll accept this one signo.”
The storm-colored stallion flipped the coin, catching it again before it hit the ground. “What do you say, Messalina? Is that a fair trade? Your kind words for one of my pieces?”
imo’s compliments elicited an odd tingle along the girl’s pale cheeks. It was not as if flattery was a novel thing to her. No, they were much too common, offered countless times in countless occasions; and what a bother they had been to receive. Compliments came with their own set of strings—a web of intricate coils, as elusive as spider’s silk yet as suffocating as a constrictor. Messalina had always received them with more apprehension than pleasure, a delightful smile stretching her lips wide as she swiftly reflected the flattery back again, an extra dollop of nauseating sweetness coating her words in honey gold.
Because that was what those shallow men had sought all along; their loosely tossed flattery was meant to serve nothing but their own egos in the end.
Sincerity, then, caught her wholly unprepared. As the boy’s words rolled off his tongue in a manner that demanded nothing but her flushed cheeks in return, Messalina found it unusually difficult to keep her composure. With a mighty effort, she succeeded—partially. The remaining tinge was certainly due to the heat of the sun.
As ivory tipped ears flicked forwards at his words, she could not help but wonder if his painted coat would leak flowing rivulets of sterling silver, if Solis’s rays continued to cascade him in such scintillating showers of light. Solterra. It was then that the girl realized he had to be from the court of Day, for the sun to love him so.
"Then, on a day where you are free. Will you accompany me to see the sights beneath Denocte’s elusive sun?” Cerulean blues gazed steadily into those of a mirrored lake, a demure smile tinting her lips as she dared to hope for his acceptance. It was a completely novel experience, for her to offer instead of to receive—but towards him, it came as natural as breathing. Could she hope… for him to become her first true friend?
As her stack of golden coins sat solemnly between them, she hastily wondered if it was excessive. Never once had Messalina bought anything for herself before fleeing the castle, never once had she even set foot inside a market. Consider the girl aptly clueless in material prices—and it was utterly miraculous that she had yet to fall into the clutches of a greedy, cunning merchant.
And it seemed that her worries proved true, judging from the peculiar look she detected in Simo’s clear gaze. He must think me hopelessly sheltered, she sighed. She would not blame him in the least if he did. Not able to keep from glancing away in momentary embarrassment, only the boy’s lighthearted comment stirred her from her woes. "Just… one? Is that enough?” she breathed, her bewilderment far too evident to bother concealing. And I do not have many friends to tell anyhow. But it was in her best interest to keep that revelation to herself.
"Then I shall accept, Simo. I am glad to see that flattery works more wonders than I originally thought it to,” she jested in quick recovery, curtsying gracefully once more as he charmingly stashed her coin away. Yet as she rose, hesitation clouded her actions. Once he handed the jewels to her, then there was no more reason for her to linger. It would be time to bid him farewell.
Oddly, that conclusion affected the slender dancer more than she thought possible.
frozen hearts growing colder with time
@Zosimos this thread is so cute >u< and messa's naivety entertains me to no end xD
