There are too many things on her mind. It swirls around and around, traveling from her head to her stomach, giving her a headache and nausea at the same time. It sucks and she hates it.
There are too many things she wished were different. Not being pregnant is up there as one of them, but even that she isn't so sure about. Becoming a mom had never been on her agenda. Neither was falling hard for a girl that may never truly love her back. One who also didn't share much joy in the idea of starting a family. It was a silly dream Morrighan thought up and even as she was thinking it, she knew it was too far.
Maybe she's not meant to find love. It feels bitter on her tongue now. So much so that she'd rather spit it out like it's poison and never deal with it again. Now she feels the anger boiling and the fire within her begging to be released. She grits her teeth, but does not let the beast go just yet. If she does, she's afraid the markets might set on fire again.
As she walks (or rather, waddles) down the street, she's nearly trampled over by two young hooligan kids. "Watch where you're going!" she snaps at them. Without hesitation, her fire appears and reaches out to the kids. If they were to look at her eyes, they would think she's a madwoman, but really she's just hormonal and crampy. Either way, they don't stick around long and run away in fear. To many, it's a wonder how Morrighan will manage to be a mother. She's not even sure herself.
The Regent feels eyes on her and she turns to see a pale colored mare staring at her from across the way. Morrighan narrows her eyes. "What are you looking at?" she growls and begins to step closer. She doesn't recognize her and is curious to find out who she is or what business she has here.
take this burden away from me and bury it before it buries me
Time had gone by, as it always does, seeking permission from none and caring little as to who it affects in the process. The sun rises, and Elena lives for the moment that it sits in the sky of blue, bright and unrelenting, it is a promise that things are still bright and beautiful. But then it falls moon take its place, only reminding her of night and that man of shadows. The stars though, they stand there too with a softer glow and a kind smile, and she remembers them too, fondly.
Elena was no longer a long legged youth, running on awkward limbs with and insecurity about who she was and where she belonged. (Terrastella has given her this, Dusk has provided her this.) She is not tired of life, she has not grown weary, but there is still a weight that aches on her bones. She tries to ignore what has followed her here, from Windskeep to beyond to Hyaline to Novus, but it is not so easy when her legs shake and her breathing grows hard. Sometimes she likes to pretend that she has always been here, that Elena before Terrastella never existed, but the bruises on her heart tell another story.
She is looking for Moira. At least this is what she tells herself. Tells herself that she is not trying to find a shadow boy who shattered her heart like snow globes across the glass. Elena wishes the man of stars would appear, but she doubts if she would find him here in the city. There is a restlessness inside her, and that is why she is here when Night should be the last place she comes to.
Instead, she finds a girl.
A girl who was also not looking for love.
They do make such an unfortunate pair.
Silver blue eyes turn to the woman making a disturbance, and though her empathy reels against it, she moves towards her. She is yelling at two children who perhaps had been at the wrong place at the wrong time. She can feel anger leaping within her, causing her teeth to clench and her muscles to twitch, though it is immediately followed with the fear, no doubt from the children as the woman suddenly unleashes her fire against the unsuspecting night court youths. Elena steps back with wide eyes and a terrified facial expression. She had never been afraid of flames, but the children’s fear becomes her own.
The woman’s anger, frustration, whatever it truly was, regardless, was strong enough to fuel itself back into Elena. Her boldness marches her forward, but it is Elena’s own bravery (or stupidity) that keeps her rooted to the spot, even as the fire wielded turns to face her. “You’re the one making the commotion,” she snaps back at her with bitterness that did not belong in her mouth, but that within her newfound companion. Elena has only borrowed it for a moment before she hastily attempts to return it, stuttering out her next words. “Sorry, sorry,” she says shaking her heads, blue eyes glancing down apologetically. “I don't know why I said that,” she offers uselessly. “Please, is there something I can help you with?”
You cant see it, but there is a tiny white flag waving amongst the flames in gregarious surrender.
so take away this apathy bury it before it buries me
The closer Morrighan gets to this woman, the more she is annoyed by her face. She doesn't exactly know what about it makes her annoyed, but it just does. Then when she talks back to the Regent, it only makes her more furious, as evidenced by how wide her eyes get.
"Excuse me?" she growls, almost in disbelief. Clearly this girl is not from here or else she would know who she's talking sass to. Soon, she will know and realize how big of a mistake she's made. After a moment, it appears she's already realized it and is apologizing up and down. Maybe this is what Morrighan is feeling truly annoyed about- how quick she is to be submissive.
The Regent remembers the scene she had made last time with August in these streets. It started to attract a crowd before they slipped away to the bar. She so badly wants to raise her voice and hurl a painful fireball at this woman, but she very reluctantly holds back. There is no Bram by her side either to be the extra muscle she often finds helpful. The pair are especially intimidating when he's showing his canines and she has her fire magic, but she'll have to go at this alone.
"You can help me by watching that tongue of yours," she says with a hiss. It's a warning for what could come if this girl continues acting reckless. Her eyes look around at others walking by and, thankfully, no one really seems to care about their conversation. "You could also tell me who you are and why you feel the need to confront Night Court's Regent." At this, Morrighan straightens her stance so that she's looking down on the girl, clearly showing her dominance. Maybe now this newcomer will realize she's on thin ice.
take this burden away from me and bury it before it buries me
Elena remembers the first time she meet the ruler of Woodlands. She can remember thinking: He is a king. Her brow had furrowed because Caunion had not looked like a king. There had been nothing about him as impressive as Valerio had been, nor had he been graceful and as sharp as Aletta. He had not been hard and there had been a softness to him that Elena did not fully trust in a leader. Had it not been for Aerwir, Elena would have left the moment they met. Perhaps, it had been cruel of Elena to make this impression right away, but the world had hardened Elena to an extent, you cant be an orphan and live soft. She had left it to Caunion to prove his worth to her and build her respect as a leader.
But she had been right all along.
Broch came in the night and stole her away and Caunion never even gained the courage to right the wrong.
Caunion had been a charmer, and Elena had to wonder how many mares had fallen for his act. He played the part of knight very well. Elena was sure, if she had been a damsel in distress she would have loved for him to rescue her. But she was not a damsel, and in times of distress she dressed herself up in an iron armor and charged her enemies head on.
Elena was nervous; she seems to fidget under Morr’s fiery gaze, her own blue eyes shifting right to left before looking at her with those same bright, doe eyes. A weary smile vaguely haunts her lips, the corners of her mouth upturning only slightly. Those large doe eyes watch her carefully. Everything in her says she is surrendering. “My apologies,” she quips. She is truck by a firm wall of emotions, anger flashes in her mind like a blood red, but Elena quiets it, biting her lip in an effort to keep emotions that were not her own in check.
Her face grows calm, but inside a storm rages and Elena watches the woman as a doe may watch a wolf. But, Elena feels something else, swarming in her stomach. There is some kind of emotion—and Elena recognizes it instantly within herself, her emotions so easily affected by others. So she listens to the mare talk, but Elena cannot help the way the ghost of smile hinges on her sun kissed face. “I was startled,” is all she offers, and those blue eyes trace the angles of her lips, the way her eyes are set upon her face, trying to find any shadow of the emotion that ripples off of her and onto the empath. “I was just in town visiting a friend,” she says. A friend, right, Moira.
She wants to go now, move past the woman, and she hesitates a step before something stops her, and that faces grows soft, despite the way her brows tinge with concern. “You seem…” Her words, perhaps more here than in other situations, need to be chosen carefully. “On edge, Would you like to join me for a walk around the markets?” Elena smiles. “Retail therapy can sometimes prove beneficial, and I think you would look stunning with a new scarf.”
so take away this apathy bury it before it buries me
Somehow Elena's submissiveness only makes Morrighan more irritated. She's not sure if she would prefer someone who retaliated. Between her usual short temper and fluctuating hormones from the pregnancy, she wouldn't turn down a fight. It probably wouldn't be in the baby's best interest, but it would surely help her let off some steam.
However, the woman apologizes and it's likely that things won't escalate to that point. The lip biting does not go unnoticed and, at the least, this mare has figured out her place here. It doesn't take most long and then she usually never sees them again as they high-tail it out. For whatever reason though, this one isn't leaving, even after she explains her reason for being here (which is a pretty bad explanation anyway).
"A friend?" the Regent asks, raising a brow. "Who is this friend? And what's your name?" She realizes the woman never gave her identity, but she's also curious if she might know who this "friend" is. It might provide more helpful context (such as if it's Antiope, Morr won't have a reason to interrogate her so strongly).
There is a moment that Morr thinks the woman is going to leave after all, but she hesitates. Instead, she comments on the Regent's demeanor. Morr's eyes grow wide from the nerve this stranger has. Who does she think she is? She's about to ask this question when the palomino goes on to suggest they go shopping and get Morr a scarf.
"What?!" is all she manages to spit out at first, blinking a few times out of disbelief. In what world would she ever want a scarf? They're itchy and bulky looking. It would just end up being quick kindling for a fire she'll very likely start soon. "I don't wear scarves," she scoffs. This is getting ridiculous.
Her eyes drift to the direction of the bar and she so badly wants to drink after all this. Yet another thing that would not be good for the baby. The thought has crossed her mind anyway, but for whatever reason she wants to keep the baby alive and healthy.
"Now if you can find me something as strong as alcohol without the alcohol, I will gladly take that," she grumbles. Morrighan's not even sure why she's still here herself. Maybe it's because she has nothing else to do but puke for the billionth time today. It'll be a miracle if this woman might actually know of the remedy she suggested, but she's curious to find out.
take this burden away from me and bury it before it buries me
Fire flickers at the corners of her mind. Elena is never sure if another’s power comes as a word or as an image, but it sits there in the back of her mind as if she has always known. She remembers the fire wielder back home, Davina. Wind and flames, the girl would have been able to throw fire balls had she wished. But, thankfully, she was much more docile than the woman in front of Elena now. She is strong, the palomino can tell that much, it simmers there, stronger than embers below her skin. Elena watches with heedful eyes.
She felt the sharp sting of empathy. This is why she bites her lip and halts her words. Elena was not immune to losing her temper or to displays of pettiness—though, thankfully, she’d managed to rein herself in a little. She just sighs, the sound impossibly sad in her mouth, because she knows what it is like to fear losing that which you love. She knows what it is like to cling to the sun and watch your fingers crumble as you try to hold onto it. She knows, and she recognizes it as the feelings rolling off the Regent. Elena cannot pin point it exactly, especially it is fleeting, buried beneath anger and ferocity. But there is something else too, a nervousness, but where it comes from, Elena isn't sure. She knows she is assuming too much, knows she is putting her own emotions on top of the woman’s, blaming the heartache on empathy.
(She winces with her emotions, and feels suddenly jagged inside.)
“It..” she starts. “Doesn't matter.” Moira, she should just say, but she cant bring it in herself to lie right now. “I am Elena though, and who are you?” She asks, the question turned around and facing her. The Night Court Regent, but Elena knows little of Denocte’s politics, she had been far too concerned with shadows and starlight.
Elena, despite herself, despite that this may get her killed, she lets out just a fragment of laughter. “No, no maybe you are not the type to go shopping for scarves,” she says. The palomino follows her eyes to the bar and she offers her a smile. “I don't think I know of such a drink,” she says with laughter, and her eyes cross the street to a small building.
“Have you ever been axe throwing?”
so take away this apathy bury it before it buries me
While Elena may not think it matters, Morrighan would still very much like to know why exactly the girl is here and who she's meeting. But, maybe that would be something she'd have to find out another time as the conversation has shifted.
"Morrighan," she says in a disgruntled tone. Maybe she's not quite as well known as she thinks she is.
Thankfully, Elena doesn't press more on the shopping for scarves idea. Morr's never been into much of what would be coined "girly". Maybe some would even call her a tomboy, but really she just didn't care for any of it. There were more important things to do and always more training to do.
Although she's not exactly surprised, Elena doesn't know of a drink that could work in place of alcohol with the same effects. If Morr gets desperate enough, maybe she'd have to consult a witch to create a potion, but she's not even sure if she could put a lot of stock into that stuff. For all she knows, the potion is actually poison and she'd really screw herself over.
"Have you ever been axe throwing?" Elena asks and it makes Morr's ears perk up. Somehow it even makes her bring her guard down.
"Now you're speaking my language," she says with a new spark in her eyes and begins to trot past Elena to lead the way. "Follow me. Also, if you try anything, don't think I won't use the axes against you."
Despite the threat, the idea is actually a good one and not even something that crossed her mind before. If Elena proves to be fine during their competition, maybe she isn't so bad after all.
take this burden away from me and bury it before it buries me
She smiles in response. A nice name. Fitting, for a woman of wild fire. Elena has always been fire, but where Elena is blazing embers, this woman is a burning forest. The flames flicker at the back of her mind, she wonders if she has ever burn something that she wishes could then rise from the ashes. Elena almost ignores the disgruntled tone, takes it in stride. Elena is too easy to forgive at time, while others, she holds fast, dragging down a grudge until she ends up on the floor. But this mare, Elena just waves her hand, and away it goes, as if she said her name as pleasantly as Elena had.
The palomino can feel the woman’s emotions, even if she does not know the cause of it, it still thumps against her heart like water hitting a docked boat. Elena hopes whatever is driving her to drink, or the desire to drink would be resolved. She thinks for a second, a moment of realization passes over her eyes, she wants to say something, but she thinks better than to. Elena think Morrighan may not be the type to like another person knowing her business. She should have been more careful with her words because if Elena had to guess, she would think this mare was pregnant.
But it really is just a guess though.
She tries to keep her smile from being so knowing as she offers her secondary idea. An idea that seems to hit it off with the fire wielder. She watches as those cupped ears come forwards—so they were not glued to her head as Elena had initially thought. It seemed she could be interested in things more than just yelling at children on the street and demanding answers from a strange passerby. “I thought that might be a more interesting idea for you,” she says with a faint hint of laughter. She watches with blue eyes as she moves past her, clearly leading the way on this excursion. Elena picks up next to her side, shaking her head in good humor. “I don’t think I would doubt it,” she says—although, there is something in the mare’s eyes and Elena thinks there is a list long before her that would have an ax before the golden girl ever would.
so take away this apathy bury it before it buries me
Elena and Morr played with axes the rest of night. Elena out.
@Morrighan
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