Isn't it lovely, all alone?
Heart made of glass, my mind of stone
T
he desert did not see much of a winter. Throughout most of the year, it's hot and dry - only barely tolerable only once the sun has set. The cold and wet was not something seen in such unforgiving places. While other parts of the realm might see rain or snow, such things were unknown to those trapped by endless mounds of sand. Csilla had not known to mind the familiarity of her birthland's landscape. Built to withstand the nature of its wrath, the heat had been no more to her than the gentle touch of a mother. Not that she had ever experienced such a thing.
Often, as a child, she had imagined that the desert had been her dam. Foolish beliefs had brought her comfort throughout the loneliness of his childhood. Before the lessons, and the tutors, and the rules - there had been nothing but what the land could offer her. One thousand imaginings had occupied her mind and the mountains that locked them in may as well have been the end of the world. It wasn't until she grew older that she grew to desperately wish such foolish thoughts to be true. All innocence was lost the moment she left behind the magical kingdom of her youth.
Torn from a fate she had resigned herself to, Csilla had been thrown into a world that was as foreign to her as some other planet. All around her the land was covered in a thick blanket of white. All memories of warmth fled from the mare's mind, her beloved desert long forgotten. Instead, she was met by the cruel unforgiveness of true winter. Icy breaths stung her lungs, yearning to be defrosted by the heat of a fire. She had no way of knowing how long she had been walking - the journey directionless and never-ending.
For the first time in her life, the young mare was completely alone. There was no sour-faced governess to direct her path, no father's ambition to steal away her childhood - no husband's gifts to inflict pain. The silence was deafening. The howling of the wind serves as her only form of company. Although, Csilla finds its opinions far more welcoming than that of any other voice she'd been forced to endure.
With no other direction to go but forward, the lone mare cuts her through the layers of ice and snow. With every agonized breath, she hoped for civilization to arise. Desperation arose as, with every rise of the land, she was met with disappointment. For as far as the eye could see - there was nothing. The familiar gray-blue shapes of mountains loomed in the distance, though Csilla knew with absolute certainty that they were not hers.
Csilla's teeth chattered and her legs trembled. The land rose and fell, with no clear path to take. Around her neck, the golden collar she was forced to always wear dripped with ice. She did not belong here, a fact made evident by her sleek summer's coat. Conquering yet another hill, Csilla paused at the top - her eyes of evergreen surveying the land hungrily. Nothing but the occasional barren tree offered itself as company. Puffs of white breath gathered around her face as hot tears stung the edges of her eyelids.
She'd been kidnapped. And what for? To be dumped in some frozen wasteland with no hope of ever being discovered? The price on her head would have been a handsome one, and yet - they had tossed her out like she had been no more than a bag of rotten grain. Death by guillotine or frostbite - both seemed equally possible. Csilla's fate still swung in the balance.
The mare's heart pounded in her chest. Sudden movement stirred beneath the snow-laden branches of a bush not to far from where she stood. From beneath the confines of its shadow, a nearly imperceptive flash of white against black grabbed at Csilla's attention. A wild hare - camouflaged to match its surroundings. The creature, not yet aware of the equine's presence, hoped peacefully out into the open. Its nose twitched as it sniffed at the snow, no doubt searching for its next meal. The spotted dun held her breath. How wonderful it must be to have such invisibility. To be but another heartbeat amongst thousands of others. No more important than the next. Such an existence was unknown to Csilla - her every hour consumed by plans not her own.
In the end, she had played her part well. Thrown into the fray at an incredibly young age, expectation and ambition had been hers to fulfill. She'd not heard from her father since the day she set off to be married. No doubt he was happy - bathing in the riches of her sacrifice.
Without warning, the hare's body grew rigid. His black nose twitched, this time the gesture far more insistent than that of his relaxed foraging. In a blink, the little animal wheeled around on its powerful haunches and - in three hops - was safely back within his den. Something was coming and Csilla no longer cared enough to be afraid. Hers was naught but a wasted life - wasted potential. The executioner could take her now.
The stars are alive, child! Did you know that? Everything out there is alive, and there are grand purpose abroad!
Herstillian winters were not kind. While their houses were well insulated, being one with the earth, they had their own unique insulation from the cold and the wind. But one shortcoming was that keeping fires could be a dangerous affair. The Noble families were lucky in that regard, that they had servants who could attend to a fire at all times, and so they were spoiled. Luvena missed those fires, those she did not tend to herself. Those that existed in a time when the flames didn't send her heart into a frenzy. In the end, servants weren't nearly enough to stop the flames that had engulfed the kingdom. She wasn't enough either.
She remembered a time when fire had meant something else to her. When she had come home from a day of walking the kingdom, to lay next to carefully tended flames. Her knees cushioned by the soft pelts of winter hares, her shoulders shrouded by tightly woven cloaks fashioned by the kingdom's finest weavers. Next to those fires, she listened to the gab of her grandmothers as they bickered lightheartedly of kingdom rumors. To the stories, her grandfathers would tell, stories she had heard so many times she could still recite them by heart. Her mother would fret and braid her mane and tail, and then she would sing saccharine songs of times long past. One stood out her, a lullaby, one she had sung to her own children, under her own image in the stars. Her mother had altered the lyrics of course. The old herstillian version of the song was not a lullaby, but a war cry. but it had been her mothers way of reminding her that there was more than one side to every story.
"Softly, and slowly, the willows sway. And without weeping, the women say Our souls are guarded, our hearts are drawn We will not sleep before the dawn
Forever safe are our children here Innocent, pure, without fear."
Back then, burning embers had meant safety. Now, they meant destruction.
Winters in Novus, as it turned out, were not kind either. Harsh winds roared over the plains, sending violent shivers down her rigid spine. She had survived one winter here, she hoped that her time in the temple had put enough strength into her to survive a second. Even if she had the courage within her to build a fire, the winds prevented it. She had come here to think. Her time in the temples had revealed some things to her. She didn't know if she was in the right place. She thought dusk was it. where she would settle for the rest of her years. She thought she was ready. To let go of what she was had. She had been given her year with Cavalier, her months of immortality. That should have been enough.
But then she had almost died again... and all she could think was that she wasn't ready. to stop living. What if there was more? If she could have another great love... another lifetime of happiness. But could she have it in dusk? or was there something waiting for her elsewhere? She didn't know, and she needed time to clear her mind. Just her. She had even left Picoro behind, something she hadn't done since they had been reunited over a year ago. A year.... she had been in novus for over a year. It had been... years... since she had been in Elysium. It was both a distant memory, and a vivid yesterday.
Novus was... it was beginning to feel like home. Yet it was still... empty. Her children... she wondered if anything could ever fill the hole their loss had left within her- She was pulled from her thoughts abruptly as a frantic crunching disturbed her. She watched a black hare tear across the snow away from her, past a young mare who stood ahead. A stranger looking creature, with both stripes and spots intermingling on a dun coat. An intricate collar of gold wrapped around the girls neck, and she wondered fromwhat noble lineage the girl came from. After all, she had come to learn that normal people tended not to adorn themselves with such fineries.
Luvena walked out towards the mare, extended her head in a gentle greeting. It was clear the girl was no threat, she seemed like she had been rather lost in thought herself. As she got closer she could see the girls expression more clearly. tears welled in her eyes, and fear grew more evident on her face. She tilted her head, concern washing over her. She picked up her pace slightly but stopped a few feet away. Careful so as not to further alarm the poor child. She didn't ask if the girl was alright, she had been there herself, and it was never helpful when to ask when the answer was clear as day. "It's rather brisk out" she started "And you look absolutely frozen, poor thing." she could see now that icicles had formed on the girls jewelry. how long had she been out here? "I'm Luvena, of Dusk" She folded her legs beneath her, settling into the soft snow, next to the bush the hare had jumped from, in attempt to shelter out some of the wind. "come, we can share some warmth at least"
Isn't it lovely, all alone?
Heart made of glass, my mind of stone
I
t was a fascinating point of interest on how memories could alter one's perspective of the world. Brief moments of time were forever immortalized no matter their varying significance. Often, it was those that should have been easily forgotten that lingered like an unwanted sickness. Again, and again the most minute details of a dream would become stuck on repeat. Eyes fixed upon the hare's hiding place; my attention was suddenly drawn to the dripping of the icicles that clung to the bare branches. There was a glassiness to them as they hung precariously in place. Almost completely transparent I wondered if they were as fragile as they appeared.
Surrounded by the frozen land, I remembered my mother's mirror. Drawn back to my brief childhood, my breath caught in my throat as every detail presented itself in my mind. For a moment it was as if I held the very object before me - reborn from the ice. Years had passed since I'd last looked upon it. The last surviving artifact of my mother's life left to me. Proof that I had come from something other than dust.
I'd treasured the crystal piece. Delicate in every way, it'd been entirely unsuitable for a child's hands. Thinking back to it, it was obvious that Father only ever intended its presence in my room to be decorative. Leave to a filly of my imaginings to think otherwise. For hours I would sit and stare into it, imagining that it was my mother's face that stared back at me. Late into the night, she would listen as I divulged the most mundane details of my day. Peaceful and quiet, I stole a new reality for myself - my own reflection as real to me as any mother could have been.
I did not know how long I could have continued in that way. Governess's arrival saw the end to many of my childhood daydreaming’s, and I often wondered what she would do if she discovered the secret of my magic mirror.
The day that I found it shattered upon my vanity was the day I knew that I would never again be allowed to enjoy the bliss of childhood. In the depths of my sorrow, I had not thought to consider the hands behind such a momentous event. Now it appeared as plain to me as anything. Its destruction had not been an accident. I remained as devastated by it now as I had been then.
For the first time since I'd been thrust out of the only world I'd known, I found myself feeling gratitude. Those days belonging to my stolen childhood felt as far away to me now as my beloved desert. How many years had it been? Ten, twenty - two? Just as the mirror had been made of glass, it seemed that my past had been formed by ice. Cold, unwelcoming, and finally melting into whatever next season awaited me.
Behind me, my tail flickered and sent the gold ring that sat at its base spinning. The remainder of its presence was not yet lost to my past. It still remained - just as potent as ever. Soon, I mused, it would become yet another broken mirror. A relic to the brittle nature of the love that could never truly be. By spring's awaited thaw, its true influence might be long forgotten - replaced by whatever else I might discover.
From behind me, another voice broke the silence of my thoughts. Not entirely unexpected I could only assume that it was the owner of this voice that had startled the hare. Its gentle cadence was not entirely unwelcome. The first equine I'd met since my kidnapping I felt my loneliness being replaced by reluctance. Slowly, I turned my evergreen gaze to look upon the face of the mare.
Nothing, however, could have readied me for the sight I saw.
For the briefest of moments, I worry that my expression is too easily read. Startled by the skinny creature at my rear, my ears flickered with uncertainty. Nothing but skin clung to the bones that made up most of the mare's jagged mass. Colors diluted by her poor condition were made wet by the snow that surrounded them. It was miraculous that the wind did not carry her away. After being exposed to riches and bounty, there were no words adequate to offer the stranger.
Poverty I had seen before. Skinny orphaned foals too weak or young to work the quarries. Father had not been kind to them - likening them to the vermin that ruined our fields. In his strict mind, there was no such thing as a free ride in life. Luckily, my opinion differed immensely from his. Every moment I could, I would sneak scraps of food out to the beggars that gathered at our gates. Mercy I had in plenty, though now I had no more to my name than the mare before me.
Despite her condition, she did not seem to fit the mold of what I had come to expect. Much older than any beggar I'd known, there was a glistening of wisdom that burned at the back of her dull eyes. The stories she could tell, I imagined - and the lessons she could teach. Stiff as a board I moved to silently accept her invitation. I hungered for companionship, knowing that there was little she could offer by means of warmth. Almost immediately, I felt my countenance relax.
"Yes," I agreed with her, the sound of my voice almost startling after the time I'd spent in silence. "I've never experienced a cold as unforgiving as this."
The stars are alive, child! Did you know that? Everything out there is alive, and there are grand purpose abroad!
She found it harder and harder these days to conjure up images of her past. Herstial was vivid, its woven structures forming effortlessly... but the people, their silhouettes wavered.. She used to see them so vividly in her dreams, mother and father, side by side, poised, dignified, noble. But as time wore on she found their forms wavering. Were her mothers eyes green? or blue? What color was fathers hair? was he tall? slowly they faded until they were little but white ethereal forms walking about, no different from the commoners who filled the empty space. And yet the one form she wished she could forget remained as clear as day, white stripes over a chestnut coat. He didn't look like a villain, and yet he was the worst kind, at least in her story.
She thought about them constantly now. and her children.... and she wondered, if she had stayed in the temple, would she be free of such burden? She had felt free there... no burden of her past on her shoulders... She had made friends, had been able to let go of Oberon, IO, Syrilth, Kodarki... Cavalier. She loved them all dearly still... but there, she had been able to let them go, keep them as cherished memories rather then fragments of loss.
This child too seemed plagued by the same fragments as she came to lay beside her. "You aren't from Novus" Luvena observed out loud. "Me neither. Not originally. What's your name?" She was in no rush for an answer. Clearly the girl had been through something recently, and though she seemed poised, all facades fell apart eventually. She began to hum softly, the tune of the herstillian lullaby, sweet, and yet vaguely haunting, a reminder of its past lyrics.
@Csilla
Sorry for how short this is, I was struggling a lil bit.
Isn't it lovely, all alone?
Heart made of glass, my mind of stone
T
he past burned. Holes in the skinny mare’s eyes grew wider, and – for a moment – I felt as if I was looking at my own reflection. Just as easily, I could be the half-starved creature that now stood before me. Surrounded by ice and snow and relentless cold, anything felt possible. Was the faded mare an illusion? A ghost sent to torment me and escort me back to my grave? I’d escaped death, but not because I had been afraid. Its cold breath haunted me still. The cruel snarling of a hunter as it crept nearer to its prey. Stranded and alone, I was helpless and lost. Exposed against a canvas of pure white. Perhaps I should have turned tail and fled. Submerged into a world that felt cruel, I was frozen. Lying next to a mare that had, at first, appeared incapable of warming herself, my mind slowed. So much had happened to see me delivered to such a state. Uncertainty clouded my judgment. I didn’t know this mare, and yet I chose to trust her. What other option did I have? For days I had been wandering alone, sticking to the paths cut by deer and other such wildlife. My rescuers – my kidnappers – had not wasted a moment to explain themselves before turning to mist and disappearing. I could have followed their tracks back to wherever they led. Why had I not? Death stirred. Suddenly uncomfortable I rose to my feet and took several steps away from the strange mare. I did not know her name, her place of origin, or the stories she carried with her. She could be everything to me or nothing, the choice was mine – I supposed. Ears flickering, I gazed out at the wide expanse of land that stretched out endlessly before me. I had no way of knowing which path would lead me to salvation. More than anything I required a warm bath and some food. Suddenly bashful, I cast my eyes of rich emerald back upon the kindly creature in the snow. “I do not mean to trouble you,” I explained hurriedly. “As you say, I am not from Novus and I do not know this land.” Me neither, she had said. Uneasy, I shifted my weight from one leg to the other. Once again, I saw myself reflected in her words. Sweet music slipped past the lips of the stranger. The song was unfamiliar and haunting, though I felt as if I almost knew its words. Again, I felt the tension retained in my body lessening. Could I trust this mare, or should I simply forget her and continue on my way? Inhaling, my mind was made far easier than I had expected. “Csilla,” I supplied after a stretch of contemplative silence. “My name is Csilla.”
The stars are alive, child! Did you know that? Everything out there is alive, and there are grand purpose abroad!
She saw herself in the girl. She too had once been lost, wandering barren lands in search of… something, though she didn’t know what. Sometimes she thought she had been made like a house of cards. Carefully put together, assembled with grace and poise, but, just one soft breeze could send all the cards flying. Scattered in different directions, left for her to wander about finding them, or to build a new castle. Ultimately… She had chosen the latter.
She wondered how this child had come to lose her way. She had met so many over the years who had found themselves lost. One woman… She couldn’t even remember her name now, but she remembered her golden coat, her lithe physique. She had been a princess once she thought… but had somehow found herself a slave later on. There was the pirate woman, who had come in on a raft, landing in the worst part shore of Elysium, one that few dared to walk upon, for the tides were swift and strong. It seemed tragedy lurked in every corner of the world, waiting to sink its fangs into the soft and innocent.
Suddenly the girl scrambled to her feet, and she forced herself not to flinch in surprise. The girl was like the hare it seemed. Like any movement just slightly out of place would send her dashing across the snow-covered fields.
“Not much you could do to trouble a feeble thing like me” she murmured with a gentle smile.
She stopped humming as the girl gave her her name. “It’s a beautiful name. It sounds as ancient as the world itself. Does it mean something special where you come from?”
Though her words were always soft, drifting over the wind like cherry blossoms, she made even more of an effort to keep the usual rasp out of her voice. Fear curdled in her heart, terrified of what would happen should Csilla run off into the dangers of the plains alone. “Luvena means beloved one, or so I’m told.”
