Her bones are tired, so tired that they have created a new definition for an old idea. Night is slowly creeping across the sky behind her as she travels west. It stalks her like a horrible monster that is always just out of her reach. It carries with it the threat of isolation, and memories spun from another time. Meira does not dare to stop, she fears she will not be able to keep going if she stops. She believes she will succumb to her weariness if she allows herself any respite. Stars begin to appear in the sky ahead of her, each one twinkling into existence. Meira studies them as she moves, she wishes they kept their promises. The closer she draws to Delumine, the more obscure the stars become. Suspicion prickles along her nape as she peers into the smoke covered sky. The sun has long since set by the time she sees the plumes billowing into the heavens; And yet, reds, violets, and black clouds spill into the void overhead. Meira does not realize she has stopped a moment to study the potential omens in the sky until she looks down at her legs that have immobilized themselves.
She glares at them momentarily, as if to scold them for their betrayal. Meira sighs as she begins to move once more, the effort to shift into motion once more is noticeable. A grunt escapes her pale lips, lips that are more vicious than their colour would promise. It is the only part of her that lies. Every inch of her beyond her lips and daggers speak a brutal truth, just as her mind and heart do. Meira grows closer to the source of the colourful smoke plumes, she has a momentary revelation about them. When she had stayed in Denocte, she had read about the Fire Festival that took place between Denocte and Delumine. Meira recalled thinking it was a curious tradition. Now the festival sprawled out before her, inviting her to go and join the swathes of bodies. Meira began to feel the warmth waft from the bonfires the closer she got to them. The dull hum of voices became more distinct as she passed a few of the bonfires where mages were tossing some sort of metal into them. Meira has again stopped, she is mesmerized by the way the flames dance into the sky. She idly wonders if this is what stars look like up close.
Meira is hovering at the edge of the group, but never quite breaking into the circle of bodies that are gathering for the storyteller taking their place at the head of the circle.
@Morrighan | I hope this is okay/gives you enough to respond to <3
ire is a fickle thing. It's something that Morrighan has always been drawn to, even long before her magic had been born. It called to her and held a sort of power that she had always been drawn to. It's always been in her personality to be ambitious and impulsive, so to later be connected to the element itself, it only seemed fitting.
At the same time, fire is unpredictable and can easily get out of control. Much like her own personality, it seems. Back in her homeland before Novus, Morrighan had started a fire much bigger than she had intended. It had been to prove a point and led to many being pissed at her. She didn't really care since those who had been bullying her weren't planning on bothering her any time soon. She trained hard as a warrior after that and no one dared to test her again.
After being dropped into Novus and joining the Night Court, for a time, she still felt like she had to prove herself. Maybe she still does, but things seem to be more in place now that she's found her own place here. She had spent many years in Ourania but it wasn't until she came to Novus that she truly felt at home.
Of course, traveling so far from that home wasn't easy. The Regent still feels a bit sick from being thousands of steps away from the comforts of Denocte, but so far Delumine hasn't been too bad. Being surrounded by her element definitely helps, although it is tempting to draw from all the bonfires and make them bigger. Her magic is growing stronger by the day and it's much easier to manipulate the flames into doing whatever she wants. It still calls to her like it did before and it's tempting to listen.
For now, she keeps herself in check. She knows how important this festival is for their Courts, but especially to Maeve. Morr watches as her daughter joins the group gathering in front of the storyteller. She tries to decide if she wants to join or not since she tends to lose interest quickly. For now, she stays several feet away and maybe she'll catch parts of it here and there.
She then notices a woman who is also looking at the group but seems hesitant to move forward. It makes Morr curious, so she walks over to find out what her deal is.
"Scared of something?" she asks with a brow raised. Off and on she checks to where Maeve sits with the group just to make sure the girl is still there. It's unclear if the mare is worried about joining the group or is possibly scared of the bonfires like Maeve is. She doesn't look like anyone she's met in Denocte, so it could make sense if she's from Dawn and maybe not used to such a festival.
Of course for Morrighan, it's all normal for her. She takes from the nearest bonfire to form a floating ball in the air between them. It's not much bigger than an apple, but the small flames that flicker are just as hungry as the bonfire it came from. Maybe part of her is messing with the woman, but it also helps curb her boredom.
✦
i've lost a part of me ; tell your friends to sharpen their teeth
Meira's gaze quickly flickers away from the story-teller and the bodies gathering around him. She finds herself peering at another woman who is approaching her with an expression caught somewhere between curious and bored. Meira watches her, in silence. She is too tired to put up much of a fight now, or so she thinks. The traitorous stars twinkle overhead, begging for her irritation at their betrayal to surface once more. This woman is smaller than her, and has oceans of ivory strewn across her skin. She is no unicorn. Her eyes are mismatched, peering out at her with curiosity. The unicorn waits to find out what she wants. The words that tumbled from the woman's mouth did ignite the fire in her belly. It was a quiet ignition, but she felt it. It would take no time at all for Meira to burn as hot as the fires strewn carelessly across the meadow. Her tongue begs for blood or mercury. The sensation grows when the woman plucks a ball of fire from the circle. She holds it in suspension between the two of them, toying with Meira. The Delumine soldier barks out a sarcastic laugh. A snarling grin etches itself onto her face. "No, I find mages, and liars distasteful. Story-tellers are just liars for the sake of entertainment." Meira responds to her, the indignation is clear in her voice as she speaks. The sea inside her rumbles at the very thought of her fearing something so simple.
What kind of soldier would she be if she were not built for war? "And I'm certainly not scared of you. Do you have nothing better to do than try and get a rise out of strangers? Meira asked her, her tones shifting to boredom. The woman who is made from a sea of earthen hues wonders if the mage knows that the fire she wields will not bow to her. It is an entity of chaos and does not do well being bound. In many ways the fire was like the sea, it was ever-changing and unforgiving. The Roanne woman smirks as she blows at the fire that hung in suspension, casting a dull glow across both of their fronts. It is an attempt to extinguish the apple-sized orb of flame. "You know, I heard somewhere mages of the flame are probably the most reckless. Is that true? Do you believe that fire would forgive you if you forgot to respect it even once?" Meira does not know what prompts her to ask this question, but part of her wants to give the woman a taste of her own medicine. It is her turn to feel the way the irritation crawls beneath her skin.
would be an understatement to say that Morrighan is irritated. She hadn't been before, but it didn't take long once this mare started talking. The way the woman had been staying away from the crowd did seem like fear, so she had never considered that it would actually be from distaste.
Liars?
Then Morrighan laughs and the ball of fire grows bigger. It had been a toy at first, but now it's more of a weapon. If Maeve hadn't been nearby, it would be swung at this mare's face. "You're in the wrong place if you don't like magic and storytellers," she spits, her eyes matching the fury of the flames. Morrighan had never been in a land without magic and anyone who wishes that for themselves just seems like a boring idiot in her eyes.
"I could ask you the same question." Her retort comes swiftly and she wonders who put the stick up this mare's ass. It's far from the energy (and overall point) of this festival, so she is very out of place among them all here. Clearly, she is the one with nothing better to do.
Of course, her last remark is what really makes Morrighan bristle. The ignorance in this one is maddening and it's unfortunate that she chose this stranger to talk to. She doesn't seem worth being in anyone's company.
"You speak like you know how magic and fire work, but you think mages are distasteful and liars. Perhaps it's you who is the liar." As much as her anger is boiling inside her, she does not let her magic erupt. It's only for Maeve's sake really because she would so much like to see the woman cringe at the feeling of the fire on her skin. But she can't, she has to hold back.
"Why bother being here at a festival of magic? Why bother being in Novus?" Morrighan would love to hear the woman's logic on this one. Especially since so far, it doesn't seem like she has any.
✦
i've lost a part of me ; tell your friends to sharpen their teeth
Quiet, quiet sadness creeps upon her. It is the monster that chases her daily. The thoughts of not belonging here plague her daily. Meira has always doubted her place in Novus, but hearing it out loud has quieted the swelling storm inside. Instead she sinks into her internal sea. It is in each curve of her bodice, how the weight of her companion's words have begun to drown her. The silence persists, until the woman speaks again. The words are so undeniably right. Meira knows she has misread the intentions of this stranger. She knows she is wrong about most mages, but she can't help it. Not after what he did to her. Enamels grind into one another as she faces her folly head on. "You're right. I shouldn't have said that." Meira admits out loud, and it feels like acid as it falls from her lips. Her tongue recoils at the thought of apologizing to a mage. The woman continues on, the fire swells as she speaks. Her rage is visible in the way she wields her magic. Meira's storm does not swell in response. She is trapped in the same state of mind as when she was with him.
Meira is quiet, so quiet. The stranger continues to speak, and her hate spills out. Meira wonders if this is what she makes others feel like when she indulges in her hate and disdain for mages. It is the first time anyone has accused her of being a liar. Her expression remains quiet, sinking, sinking. It is the only thing the woman has been wrong about so far. Meira knows intimately the pain of the fire, of the destruction magic causes. Pain cannot possibly lie. Meira is smart enough now to know what was done to her was not her fault. It makes her ache in ways she never could have imagined as a bright-eyed youth. She does not know if she can ever forgive him for robbing her of who she once was. The woman asks why she is in Novus at all. Silence permeates the conversation. She stares at the woman and her fire. Meira feels as though the sea has frozen her tongue. Part of her storm does rise to life, because she resents the idea that she should have to give up her home for what someone else has done to her. The silence continues until it would seem she may not speak again at all. As if she would steal away into the night rather than risk the truth she knows lurks inside her. Sometimes the sea spills its secrets, and she realizes this is why she chose Dawn.
She wants to start over, but that doesn't happen if she makes no changes. "Let me explain to you, so maybe you can understand my reaction to those who are like you. I know the pain of magic, the suffering it can bring. I know it is unfair of me to cast judgment upon all mages for what was done to me, right here in Novus. My home since my birth. I resent the notion that I should leave my home, that I love beyond all measure, because of what someone else did to me." Meira feels the threat of sharing her truth with a stranger. She knows she cannot hide this for the rest of her life. Meira knows that the sea will always return, but her tides have grown so low. "I am no liar. But I guess that is up for you to decide. So I will tell you a true story of my own if you enjoy them so much. Perhaps it is the fictional stories I find no comfort in. Do you know what it is like to fall in love with someone who seems so right, so right that your soul screams and aches when you are not with them? I do. A mage, before I ever knew what magic could do in the wrong hands. He promised me the world, and for a time he gave it to me. I thought he saved me, but instead, he robbed me of peace. All it took was for him to take me far away from my home, to Denocte. He kept me trapped there. My sweet love changed so quickly. He bound me to him with his magic and promised no one would believe me. He was right. They didn't believe me. I had to fight for my life to get here. I have survived terrible things at the hands of one mage, things perhaps you can't even imagine. So I will ask you, who are you to tell me I don't belong in Novus? Who are you to tell me that I should leave because of what someone did to me? I will admit my own shortcomings in making assumptions about you and all mages as a knee jerk reaction. It isn't fair to you all either, but tell me honestly. Why do you love magic? What good does it do, when it is just as capable of irreparable damage?"
Meira has nowhere to hide now. She has no idea why she has shared her past with a stranger who will undoubtedly not care about her. It is a struggle for her to accept that she needs to change, but that will not happen if she keeps her truth a secret. "Teach me then, what is magic like in the hands of someone who does not intend to use to destroy someone in front of them just because they can. I will not change if I hide from my truth, or allow myself to judge all mages as inherently evil." Meira wonders if she will entertain the idea of educating the mare who has been so unkind to her. The sadness creeps, creeps across her frame. It seeps into her bones as she stands before the mare who will undoubtedly leave. "I know you didn't ask for my story, and you probably don't care given how I treated you. It isn't your job to teach me, but I will appreciate it." The words are so foreign and thick as they tumble from her mouth. Every inch of her screams for her to attack or run. To fight. She is too tired to fight now though.
orrighan had been so caught up in her accusations that she almost missed the woman admitting she was wrong. She stops and looks at her in a bit of a shock. The mare had been so set before that her "kind" were so bad, so it's surprising how quick she was able to change her mind.
She almost laughs in her face as she begins to tell her story. Another contradiction- hating storytellers so much and yet she becomes one herself as she unravels it to Morrighan. There are some parts of it that she can understand as she can see the fear in Maeve's eyes whenever there's fire. That's partially because of her and the kind of wrath she's shown towards those who piss her off. It's why she tries so hard not to lose it here tonight because her daughter doesn't deserve to be scared again (especially not after the island).
So the Regent listens and the more she does, the more there are bits and pieces that she can relate to. A love that you feel so strongly about that your heart aches, only to ache even more when it falls apart. She thinks of Al'Zahra and how much of a disaster that had been. Maybe it's a good thing the woman didn't have magic because she could have been capable of so much more.
Then there are more of those accusatory questions and Morrighan is back to being irritated. She narrows her eyes while she waits for the mare to finally be done talking. Then she snuffs out her fire ball with a puff of her breath before speaking.
"Where I'm from, if you did not have magic, you were weak. I used my magic to save my life and my ass. It saved others' lives too in battle. Unlike you though, I don't feel like telling a stranger my entire life story," she says, rolling her eyes. Perhaps she's stalling and skirting around the truth of how dangerous her fire has been too. How her own daughter is afraid of the very thing and she has to be careful not to let it out in front of her. Sometimes it fuels her own impulses too and the wound on her leg starts to throb a little as if to remind her.
She doesn't bother to give the woman pity for what she went through. It doesn't seem pointful in this conversation and after all, it's in the past. There's probably no changing this mare's mind about all of this. "There are many in Novus who use their magic for good. If there weren't, then this world would look much different. We wouldn't be having this festival either. Who do you think lit all those bonfires? Who do you think created all the decorations in the meadow? Your very King can reach into the earth and bring to life as many plants and flowers as he wishes. Are you going to go against your sovereign and not trust him either?" Morrighan feels herself getting heated again and wonders why she's bothering so much with this conversation. There's nothing in it for her, but at this point, she just wants to get in the last word.
"You're in a world full of magic, so you're just going to have to get over it some day and put the past behind you."
✦
i've lost a part of me ; tell your friends to sharpen their teeth
The woman does not snarl like the fire that roars into the sky. Meira is surprised that she is able to share her story, uninterrupted. But she sees the storm brewing in the face of the mare. The fire is quickly stamped out with a rush of air that escapes from the mare's lungs. It is her turn to listen. She is quiet, so quiet once more. Meira does not understand what the mare shares with her, because she is not a mage. She has so rarely seen magic used for good, so rarely that she can hardly believe it. The woman rolls her eyes and Meira laughs. There is no ounce of mirth in the sounds that pours from her lips like tainted wine. "Perhaps you should someday. I was kept silenced when I was trapped in Denocte. I refuse to be kept silent any longer, and maybe I can help one of the many others I know of that are trapped there too. Maybe your story could continue to do good for those weak like me." The words taste like mulled wine as they burn on her lips.
The woman who is made of fire, and so reluctant for anyone to get too close, does not give her pity. She bristles again as she speaks of the mages, and asks Meira who she believes to be responsible for this festival. Again she is quiet, allowing the monster to devour her from the inside out. It is clawing its way to the surface, but her anger is a gentle hum for now. "Is it so strange a concept to you, that Novus is a terrible place if you know where to look? Especially because of some mages... For every good and beautiful thing magicians do, I can promise you that there are others out there who are doing heinous things twice over. Can you honestly say that there is not a single individual who fears you? What about your friends, imagine what it would be like if you had lost your magic? As for my king... I do not need to trust in order to serve. Blind trust is a dangerous thing." Meira almost laughs, but the warning falls from her lips instead.
The woman speaks once more, telling her that she is and always will be surrounded by magic. Telling her that she will have to someday put the past behind her. It is her turn to laugh, and a smile like war crawls across her face. "No. The past will not go quietly. I will not move on until I have erased every last memory of their existence from the face of Novus. There will be none who will remember them, and there won't be a soul who will forget what the heat of my wrath feels like. Meira promises the woman as if she has any sort of personal investment in this matter. Then she turns, turns from the woman made of fire, and disappears back into the shadows.
@Morrighan | Editing to closer.
12-23-2020, 11:49 PM - This post was last modified: 12-30-2020, 10:00 AM by Meira
