The fires burned into the sweeping canvas of night. The chill in the air was kept at bay by the immense size of the bonfires painted by strange metals. Meira gave in to her exhaustion, she rested at the edge of the light cast by one of the bonfires. There were a few bodies dwindling near this one, but most equines were attracted to the livelier locations. She never imagined the ground would feel so comfortable. Her nape was elongated and her muzzle rested upon the soft sandy ground. Her oceanic chasms studied the dancing flames. Each flicker was a mesmerizing movement of a complicated pattern. The wood beneath them shifted, the charcoal sounded hollow as it scraped against the wood. Flickers of firelight exploded from the edges of the flame. Meira sighs with contentment as she studies the fire. Her body begins to relax, after traveling from Solterra she sorely needed it. The warmth bathed her bodice as though it were an invisible blanket thrown across her earthen shoulders.
The voices drifting in the night become a dull hum in the background of the main event. Stories are being told, children are racing nearby. It's almost idyllic the way the night is progressing. Meira feels her eyes begin to grow heavy as she allows herself to enjoy the warmth of the flames. She drifts into a landscape much darker than the one in Illuster Meadow. She dreams of the monsters she has already bound. Her frame grows restless as she dreams beneath the stars. Not even the fire is enough to keep her monsters at bay. Meira wakes with a start and finds herself launching herself onto her feet suddenly. The world comes into a sharp focus as she glances around groggily. Annoyance stirs in her as she slowly realizes that she had been dreaming. Dreaming in the void again. The Roanne woman wonders if she will ever dream beyond the void that traps her each night. It swallows her each night, and each morning she wakes in a cold sweat.
Meira casts a glance over her shoulder and spots a hazy figure moving in the direction of the bonfires. She blinks a few times in an attempt to clear her eyes. Whoever is walking toward her is obscured by the darkness of night and the cloak of smoke blowing across the ground between them.
@Septimus | I'm looking forward to writing with you!
10-25-2020, 07:21 PM - This post was last modified: 11-10-2020, 12:34 PM by Meira
THIS MOUNTAIN'S POWER / LIES IN THE OPEN SECRET OF ITS REMOTE / APPARITION, SILVERY LOW-RELIEF / COMING AND GOING MOONLIKE AT THE HORIZON / ALWAYS LOFTIER, LONELIER THAN I EVER REMEMBER ❃
He drifts through the bonfire-strewn field, each long stride halfway thoughtless.
The sweet smell of burning wood and cinnamon is in his mouth – on his tongue just as much as it is up his nose. He slips between a blur of bright-burning fires and colorful smoke, navigating the festival without lingering on any one part of it for very long. Septimus pauses here and there to watch the embers and ash swirling into the smog-covered night sky, but never for long. He feels restless, somehow, and strangely discontent; more mortal than usual, so to speak. He catches sight of children darting between the trees, laughing like shadows, and something inside of him seems to knot in a way that he doesn’t anticipate.
(He wonders if this mortality of his isn’t beginning to have unintended consequences. He has never longed for company in quite the way that he seems to lately, never for connections, never to linger for more than a breath.)
Septimus is passing by a fire when he catches sight of a woman stirring to awareness in the grass. (He is more amazed that anything that she could sleep amidst all of the sound and the light.)
He thinks that he might have seen her before, in glances – a woman with tiger stripes and a twin pair of curved swords – like scimitars - for horns. He considers, for a moment, that he might leave her be, but then he thinks better of it. He has been meaning to get to know the Dawn Court and its denizens better, to not neglect his social life as terribly as he has for the past year, and, besides, a festival is as good a time as any to get to know other people. (In fact, it is practically blasphemous to spend the evening alone.) With that in mind, he readjusts his glasses on his brow, a gleam in his bright green eyes, and he drifts through the crowd until he settles a meter or so from where the mare, groggily, has stumbled up to her hooves.
As he draws close, he notes the silver spirals that tip each of her horns, and her earring full of stars; and, more than that, he notes the way that her eyes blink out from the dark of her as bright, sleep-muddled blue, as clear and deep as a quiet sea.
He offers a dip of his head, the green jewels dangling from his antlers clicking like a windchime. “Oh, hello there,” Septimus says, a friendly grin settling across his features. (He takes care not to pull his lips back far enough to show the sharp points of his canines; it is more polite that way.) “Enjoying the festival?”
(It’s as good of a way, he thinks, to break the ice as any.)
@Meira|| same here <3 || denise levertov, "open secret" Speech
AND RARELY, IF THE WOOD ACCEPTS THE BLADE WITHOUT CONDITIONSthe two pieces keep their balance in spite of the blow❃please tag Septimus! contact is encouraged, short of violence
She hears the tinkling of the gems strewn in the man's antlers before she can make out his form. He is painted in similar earth rich tones, but his patterns do not tell their admirer that he comes from the sea. Not like the earthen waves that ripple across her slightly smaller frame. Impressive wings sweep from his form, he is a son of the skies. Meira knows that it is said that the sea and the sky have their destinies intertwined. These are old sea-lore that she does not believe. It is impossible for such a vicious and turbulent entity to be intertwined to something so smooth. Meira feels her ears flicker forward as he greets her with a smile. It seems restrained, but she cannot discern his reason for this. He asks if she is enjoying the festival, it is a common nicety offered by some. Meira feels her own smile creep across her pale features. "Hello. Enjoying as much as possible. I am still a bit tired from my journey back from Solterra. Are you enjoying the festival, ...? Meira trails off as she speaks, because he has not given her his name. This makes her realize that she has not offered hers either.
"I'm Meira." The words fall from her mouth awkwardly. Part of her wants to shrink each time she utters her name to anyone. Delumine has been kind to the sea-born daughter, for not many know of the history associated with her name. That knowledge is reserved for Denocte, and Solterra. All the ties to those courts she has severed violently. She has pried them from her very soul so that she might start anew. Meira allows her gaze to flicker to the fire for a few moments before returning to her new companion. "Are those gems bound to the boughs atop your crown for the occasion, or something you wear every day?" She asks him, her lids flickering as she swivels her head to peer at her companion once more. Meira is surprised at how forward she is towards him. She is even more surprised by the fact that she has so sorely missed normal conversation. One where she is less tempted to glance over her shoulder.
Instead, some of her worries are laid out before her. Magicians, scholars of the arcane. She finds that she cannot trust them, they are something beyond her understanding. Yet they manipulate the world to their whim. Meira pulls herself from her thoughts, though she cannot shake the anxiety swarming every inch of her bodice. She longs to stroll beside the sea. "Would you mind joining me for a walk on the beach?" The question spills from her mouth abruptly, before she can dam the chords in her throat. It might seem she is propositioning him for a date. Meira yearns for comfort, and companionship so much that she spills her words too freely. Meira peers at him, curious about what he will say. It is a wonder that she has offered any vulnerability at all.
@Septimus | This will get better ;__; Septimus looks so huggable
THIS MOUNTAIN'S POWER / LIES IN THE OPEN SECRET OF ITS REMOTE / APPARITION, SILVERY LOW-RELIEF / COMING AND GOING MOONLIKE AT THE HORIZON / ALWAYS LOFTIER, LONELIER THAN I EVER REMEMBER ❃
He is relieved to find that he doesn’t seem to have startled her, sleep-dazed as he expects her to be. She tells him that she is enjoying the festival, and she begins to ask him the same question, but then she trails off, seeming to realize that she doesn’t actually know his name. “Septimus,” he says, a gentle smile settling on his lips. “I’m a scholar here in Delumine – and I’m quite enjoying the festival. The fires are beautiful.” And, though he’s seen plenty of beautiful sights in his travels, he means it; Novus is not the most fantastical or advanced land that he has visited, but it always seems to find ways to surprise him.
She introduces herself as Meira, a hesitant smile barely curving up the pale corners of her lips; he returns it, a bit more broadly. “It’s nice to meet you, Meira. Are you also from Delumine?” He notes that she said that she’d returned from Solterra, which means that she probably is – if she isn’t some kind of vagabond or traveler, that is. She asks after his jewelry, then, and he gives a little tilt of his antlered head, jewels resounding like chimes. The enchantment on his earrings doesn’t work in this land, and they can be a bit of a nuisance while he’s trying to work, but he can’t imagine being without them after all these years. “I wear them all the time.” His expression seems to soften. “They were gifts, so I try to keep them on.” Some of them were gifts, anyways – mostly from his relatives. The others he’d picked up along the way, and they were far less precious as a result; mostly, he kept them to keep wandering eyes away from the more sentimentally (and, in some cases, literally) valuable ones. His eyes creep to her earring, and then to the silver spires around her horns. “Do you always wear your jewelry, or are you dressed up for the festival?” It only seems fair to return the question.
She asks him, rather abruptly, if he would like to go take a walk with her on the seashore. If he is being propositioned, Septimus doesn’t seem to think much of it; thoughts of kelpies briefly cross his mind, and of the dangers of the coast at night, but he is quick to take her up on her offer. “Sure,” he says, easily. “I’m sure that the seashore is beautiful, this time of night…and it’s gotten rather smoky here besides.” It’s true – the trailing fires have left the night sky cloudy, and the scent of burning wood and incense is almost dizzying. With that, he gives a nod of his head in the direction of the shore, and another reassuring smile (because she seems terribly nervous), and he starts off across the meadow, towards the distant shoreline.
AND RARELY, IF THE WOOD ACCEPTS THE BLADE WITHOUT CONDITIONSthe two pieces keep their balance in spite of the blow❃please tag Septimus! contact is encouraged, short of violence
Septimus he inserts his name in the space she has left for him when she trails off. The smile on his face is gentle, so gentle she almost belives it. There is still time for her to find the thorns in his existence. Thorns that will make her ache, and writhe, and bleed. He speaks again, informing her that he is a scholar here in Delumine. He enjoys the fires. "They are beautiful. A scholar here? What is your favourite subject to study?" The question surprises her, because normally she has no interest in getting to know others. Meira has spent so long holing herself up in her new home in Delumine that she has made no friends. Her wounds too are still raw. The wounds she has given herself when she confronted her past. When she told him he had no place in her life anymore. That was a mere week ago. He last walked across her heart then, with all his charms and lies. Meira pulls herself back to the conversation. He exchanges more pleasantries and then asks if she is from Delumine. "It's nice to meet you too, Septimus. No, I am not from Delumine. I am a recent addition to the court. I grew up in Solterra, then transitioned to Denocte before I came here. I'm a soldier here now." Meira answers him.
She wonders if he will believe that means she is a barbarian. Because she prefers the stains of blood over the stains of ink upon fresh pages. It has never captivated her in the same way that violence has. Meira wonders if she would be the same if she never met him. He still infects her every waking moment, and she yearns for a time when she can forget him. Replace him with equines who drag her worth into the depths of oblivion. He is the reason for her abyss that threatens to consume those who dare to get too close. Septimus humors her and answers that he wears the gems that are strewn in his antlers like stars in the sky. His too were gifts like the items she wore upon her own frame. Septimus surprises her by returning the question to her, and she judges this as a fair question to ask. "Yes, I wear mine all the time. They were also gifts, but perhaps a bit more bittersweet than some." Meira admits to him, there is something about him that invites her to open herself up. Slightly, because she cannot risk the pain of letting anyone else in. Not when she is still so raw from the events of her past.
Septimus agrees to join her for a walk on the beach. He comments about how the smoke is trailing here. It fills their lungs, it leaves no space for the sea inside her. Meira gives a nod in agreement before she takes a few steps toward the shoreline. She gives pause to allow him to join her, although every inch of her is screaming for her to run from him. The silence continues until she feels it is too uncomfortable. She wonders why a stranger would indulge her. How can someone be so kind? Meira casts a glance his way, her eyes lingering on the gems that hang from his antlers. Septimus is indeed handsome and had she met him at another point in her life she may have asked him to join her for a night out. "Tell me, what is Delumine like? I know only of the court's favour for knowledge, and neutrality. Sometimes it feels a bit out of place to call yourself a soldier in a court like this. I sometimes wonder if I will love it as much as I do Solterra." Meira prods him cautiously while sharing some of her worries about joining this court.
The sea is quick to greet them. She can't help herself when she sees it. As soon as her daggers fall upon the soft sands, she casts a glance toward him before she begins to run. Run, run, into the embrace of the sea. The cool water rushes up to her until it caresses her chest. Fearless the water whispers to her. She knows about the kelpies, but they do not frighten her. She was once a part of their world, and she would be again. Meira turns her gaze to Septimus, the sea acts as a balm to her internal wounds. Her smile makes an appearance as she peers at him. Meira doesn't plan to ask him to join her, but she doesn't plan to discourage him either. "I never can seem to stay away from the sea whenever I'm near." The fondness is clear in her voice as she studies him. She searches for disgust or judgment in his features.
