[AW] dismiss the invisible

[Thomasin]

the bitterness of winter or the sweetness of spring

you are an artist and your heart is your masterpiece

The night was cold: a kind of cold that sat underneath your skin and made its way into your bones. A kind of cold that demanded to be felt with your whole being. The sky was a particular shade of gray, sooty but washed-out, it was a tell-tale sign of the weather to come. Frost clung to whatever vegetation was still alive in the dark of winter.  
 

Alone, the milky shape of a unicorn appeared. Dark waves of hair fell on either side of her neck, providing little insulation to her fragile body. Her winter coat had barely managed to grow in – all the warm, coffee-house colors of her skin were still there, just a little fuzzier than usual.  

It began to snow; soft, fat flakes made their gentle descent from the muddy gray sky. She hesitated, a quiet sigh slipping through her pink lips as she turned her head to scope her surroundings – first to her left, then to her right. She was alone, blissfully alone. An unintelligible simper pulled at the corners of her mouth. She closed her eyes, breathed in the night air so deeply it made her lungs ache, then opened her mouth just wide enough to slip out her tongue and catch a single snowflake. Quickly she shut it, and in some foreign and childlike wonder, stood completely still so that she could relish the way the flake stung her before melting away and disappearing forever. Thomasin could stay there forever in that moment, wondering where the water she swallowed came from – did it journey far to reach her? Was it once running free in the rivers north of her homeland? Or perhaps it came from the ocean, once tangled up in the gills of a happy fish? If only she could taste its source.

After wistfully dreaming about faraway lands whose names she would never know, she opened her sad eyes to the path she stood on, watching the flurries begin to stick to the ancient stones that showed her the way. Straightening her posture, she moved forward towards the foreboding shape of a fortress.

The large keep would have turned most visitors away – but not the citizens of Denocte.  

With a gaping entrance that opened like a hungry mouth, stone walls that climbed to the heavens, and a glow coming from inside that was akin to fire in a dragon’s throat, even Thomasin would find herself nervous to approach from time to time. But not tonight, for she was homesick, and seeking guidance from the powers that were much mightier than herself. The orange candlelight from the brick windows flickered and blinked, like curious eyes, watching the wayward lamb make her way inside. Thomasin, despite her constant apprehension, would always make herself at home in the Night Court of Caligo. Strangers would feel as if the keep might devour them – but this little lady would argue that they were nothing but inviting.

Tonight, the walls were alive from the luminescence of the fires; alien shadows played and skipped along the mortars, balancing on the gables, beckoning Thomasin to come closer. Every time she came here, it felt like the first time: magical. This place was familiar to her; these walls the best secret-keepers who were always willing to listen to Thomasin and all her woes – no matter how silly they might be. 

She smiled a small, grateful smile, before making her way down the foyer to the center of the keep, where a large statue of Caligo stood erect, unchanged by time, each curve and edge of her shape still in perfect condition. Candles and tributes lay at the feet of the sculpt: flowers of different colors and sizes, jewelry and precious stones, pictures of loved ones. Thomasin admired each possession before setting down a small basket she had been toting with her. Removing the wrap, she revealed an assortment of muffins, along with some of foraging finds from earlier in the day: a handful of mushrooms, a few sprigs of rosemary, and a feather from a bird that was unknown to Thomasin, but nonetheless, pretty.

“Good evening, Caligo,” her voice was barely audible, just a half-step above a whisper as she began to lay her bounty out. “Forgive me, your muffins have gone cold –“ A familiar vice ensnared her throat. She was beginning to well with tears before gently shaking her head. 

Was she actually crying over cold pastries? Maybe. Perhaps that is what it would look like if you were on the outside looking in. But deep within her heart, the mare knew she was upset over more than just her tribute tonight – although the temperature of her muffins was most certainly the tipping point.

After placing her arrangement, she folded her legs and laid down at base of the altar. With glossy, gray eyes, she looked up at the face of her Demi-Goddess. 

“I could use some of your grace tonight, Caligo, if you might have any to spare.”

The heart in her exposed ribcage slowed its cadence as the lamb regained her composure, closing her eyes to begin her prayers. A few silent minutes went by, nothing but the wind whistling in the empty halls of the court. Once Thomasin was finished, she began to sing softly, a sweet and saccharine song that spilled from her mouth like honey, filling these lonely walls with a gospel that would make this place feel just a little less empty. 

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"talking." thinking.

tagged: for any and all ~ 

vibing to: X

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[Valan]

i'm insane
well, i can feel it in my bones
coursing through my veins,
when did i become so cold?

The mare had gotten herself lost. An amused smile touched her muzzle at the thought, the icy night wrapping around her lean frame with the embrace that allowed an abundance of comfort. She didn't mind of course - being lost, or the weather. She was enjoying both as one of her kind where likely to do. The cold flurries didn't bother her as they touched her own marble-cold skin, her muzzle parting to display the touch of fang as she breathed in the crisp air.

She preferred these little things, making her feel a touch more alive when she was fairly certain 'alive' didn't properly count for her. She hadn't been alive in centuries, after all. Her dear departed husband had made sure of that on their wedding night. Now she was un-alive, the living-dead, the un-dead. She tossed those thoughts away, to continue walking, wild mulberry wine curls dancing in a chaotic wildness behind her.

She continued to move about calmly, meandering smoothly through the streets of this court. She remembered it when she was younger. She'd seen it as it was built up. For a time she'd been part of it. Of course, times changed, rulers changed, she'd slept for a long time as well - stuck in a suspended state of hibernation for hundreds of years before her sire, her beloved master who had granted her this un-life had awoken her.

She pauses, to see a small, frail form in the distance, and almost instantly a bubbling emotions swirls to the front most of her mind. Concern, curiosity. Despite her rather grim fate, Valan was nothing less than a caretaker, a mothering individual who made it her life mission to set others on a good track, ensuring health and happiness for all of their time in this grand world.

And she was curious to a fault.

Valan was soon following, the vampiric mare light on her hooves, the soft clinking of the gold chains against her neck, as the ribbons tied around her tail, around her throat danced as wildly as her mane and tail did. She easily passes through the entrance as the one used to transversing the shadows unseen would be able to do.

She'd lost sight of the other, and so it is with a pause that she tries to figure out where to go before she sees the candlelight flickering against a form, and slowly Valan creeps forward, curious to see the slip of a mare stand before what appeared to be a statue, tributes at the hooves of the immortalized goddess. Valan may have slept for a lengthy period of time, but she recognized the relief of Caligo well enough.

The mare had set something down herself, a number of something, muffins, mushrooms, sprigs of herbs that smelled sour to the nose of the mare who struggled to drink anything beyond the nectar of life. It twisted her belly slightly, to know, to remember how the smell of a fresh-baked muffin once woke her merrily in the morn, and now it smelled sour and decayed, and taste of ash upon her tongue.

The other spoke to the goddess, and Valan turned away, beginning to feel like perhaps she was intruding, before pausing when she heard the falter, the slight intake of breath that signaled emotional distress. She pauses, turning back in surprise to see the other appeared crying now. It tugged at the heart strings of the vampire who couldn't bring herself to harm another (only one had ever felt the bite of her fangs, and she couldn't drink from a source since that first and only kill of the man who'd murdered her upon the marriage bed).

She was still silent but watching as the mare seemed to sink, legs folding until she lay at the base of the altar, looking up at the goddess. Silence stretched again, before the mare seemed to come about once more, a song leaving her muzzle. It sounded of the gospel, but it was a demonstration of how times changed that this was not a song Valan was familiar with. She remained still for a long moment more before finally stepping forward.

It was difficult to step with more purpose, but she made sure to do so, letting her hooves echo off the stone walls, rather than silently tread as most of her species did. She's careful to keep her face gentle, kind, rose-pink eyes watching the other with a softness that she was known for, the same softness that typically had her master warning her that not all mortals were so welcoming as she was to them. She kept her fangs well hidden to the best of her ability, so as not to alarm the other, "Good evening, child." The immortal whispered gently, smiling softly, "I hate to bother you and do hope you shan't rebuke my company. But you're song was simply divine. I'm afraid I'm not too familiar with the lyrics, least I'd have joined you in gospel." She pauses, both her words and her approach, eyes widening in slight dismay, "Oh, forgive my insolence, I've forgotten introductions. My name is Valan. Might I inquire yours?" That same soft, and gentle smile back in place.

@Thomasin

for goodness sake
where is my self control?
if home is where my heart is
then my heart has lost all hope

x | x

[Thomasin]

the bitterness of winter or the sweetness of spring

you are an artist and your heart is your masterpiece

The lamb might have noticed that she was not alone if not completely romanticized by her own gospel. When in worship, there was a special mindset that Thomasin treasured, for she was delightfully lost from the rest of the world. No worries, no strife. A pure belief that nothing would harm her in these sacred moments. Nothing could make her stray from the path of her Goddess - 

But have you ever seen someone so beautiful that it hurt to look at them? 

Thomasin’s gaze finger-danced up the shape of this creature’s elegant legs, following the curve of golden veins along her chest and up the swan-like arch of her neck. Amidst a sea of cranberry curls was a face so gentle, so inviting, and looking directly at her – no, through her, surely.  A set of black-rimmed eyes that reminded her of her mother’s rose garden; roses that Thomasin was never allowed to tend to in fear of damaging them. Look, but never touch, never indulge in. 

And so, if she was only allowed to look, then she would spoil herself with the privilege.  

“Good evening, child.”

Thomasin winced. For some foreign reason that sentiment stung. 

"I hate to bother you and do hope you shan't rebuke my company. But your song was simply-“ It was at that point that Thomasin rose to her feet, tone-deaf and unable to hear any other words, slightly entranced by the way this creature’s mouth curled to shape the sonata that spilled from her lips. She spoke like someone out of a well-loved fairytale: eloquent, refined, someone well-traveled and deliciously spoiled by the natural treasures of her journeys.

Bewitched, Thomasin took a step forward, all of her worries had temporarily melted away and were replaced with wonderment and gentle curiosity. This woman was winter fire.

A breathless spell of awe escaped her lips. “Wow.”

Her own voice startled her, misty eyes growing wide with the sudden realization that her thoughts had slipped right through her teeth. She shifted, growing uncomfortable under this abrupt heat that flooded her body and the blood that rushed to her cheeks, and retreated a few steps backwards - as if creating more space between them would spare her the embarrassment of this first encounter. 

“Forgive me,” she mused, lowering and turning her face away, like a turtle receding into its shell. Reality helped Thomasin gravitate back to the conversation, pleasantly in time to catch the woman’s name. Valan. The little toffee mare grabbed on to her name like a paper note in the wind, clutched it to her breast, saved it like a secret. 

With what little poise she could recover, she looked at the stranger from underneath a fluffy set of piebald lashes. “Thomasin Gray.” She took a peek down at her own legs: dusty from kneeling on the floor, her hair unkempt from playing in the thicket earlier this morning, her skin smelled of the earth she foraged in. She felt so dirty in comparison. Just a little mud sprite in the presence of some ethereal moon fairy. When Thomasin could no longer find a comfortable spot to rest her gaze, her raincloud eyes finally found peace in looking at the tributes on the floor. Her body language relaxed just enough to not seem afraid of this woman – no, fear was the wrong word. She was wildly intimidated by this pale lady, desperately racking her mind to remind herself all of her mother’s lessons: be kind, be courteous, act with grace. 

The lamb pivoted her body to face Valan, hoping that her thick hair would be enough of a curtain to shield the gaping, flowering hole in her torso. She did not think a lady of such class and demure would appreciate seeing her exposed organ.

“Miss Valan, have you traveled far to pray?” she asked, avoiding eye-contact. She opened her mouth to speak once again, thinking it kind to offer her one of the muffins from her tribute, but thought better of it, and swallowed the words instead. No lady of Valan's stature would accept a cold muffin. You would probably offend her, Thomasin. So instead she stayed quiet, but eager to hear her voice once again. 

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"talking." thinking.

tagged: @Valan

vibing to: X

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[Valan]

i'm insane
well, i can feel it in my bones
coursing through my veins,
when did i become so cold?

The small little thing had turned her attention to the vampiress, and as such Valan made sure to hold herself still (while making sure she wasn't perfectly, unnaturally still - she still liked to pretend she was alive, after all). So she allowed herself to breath, the slight shifting of weight, small things that were unnoticeable to most, but when you deprived yourself of them you became . . . peculiar, unalive, noticeably still. And with the way the slip of a mare was taking her in, Valan had the particular opinion this small creature would have likely noticed any such oddities. Yet, there was a noteably sense of slight unease about being looked over so clearly. Would she notice the unnaturalness? The way the veins of her skin were actual cracks. Would she see the darkness around her eyes was more than just cosmetics?

Valan does, however, see the wince at the terms used, and instantly a sense of regret flashes through the immortal's being. Everyone was but a child to her, however. She'd been alive so, so long ago. Stuck in an eternal half-life now for centuries upon centuries. To where she'd hibernated years, upon years, of her life away with little thought or regard to what she might have missed while she slept. She did pause her speech when the other, this delicate creature (smaller than even herself was), stepped towards her. Valan felt a pause, confusion by the awe that seemed to emanate from the other mare. Even if she knew that she shouldn't be too surprised. She was a vampire; they were known to be extraordinarily lovely - hypnotizing if only to draw in their prey before the bite.

Didn't mean Valan appreciated that nasty side of her people. It's why she didn't drink from the source, didn't participate in the hunt. Only the need to drink the nectar of life at all allowed her to sip from chilled goblets pulled from a reserve. Harvested so she might not starve herself in her desperation to not be one of the monsters the mortals viewed her kind as. It didn't take too much longer for the young creature to seem to take another shift in behavior. Her eyes had blown wide, and she shifted with growing discomfort, retreating even as she apologized.

Valan's features shifted into a mild amusement, the sort that was innocently given rather than mockingly directed. She didn't have the darkness in her to ever be mocking. Still, she offered her name, curious about the one she would be given in return. The full name, however, was a surprise. Thomasin Gray. Should she have introduced herself fully? Or would that too have been too much? Would she have been too much? Instead, Valan merely inclined her head, her smile twisting into a soft, friendly expression, "It is a delight to make your acquaintance, Miss Thomasin."

The other turned more towards her, but it was the way that hair lay that drew Valan's eye, though of course she could smell more than she could see, yet it didn't smell like a festering wound - which held her curiosity. The vampire was drawn back to Thomasin directly at the posed question, noting the dear's lack of eye contact. She smiled, closed-mouthed; to keep her fangs hidden still, her gaze turning back to the effigy in curiosity, "Not today, I do not think. I cannot be so certain Caligo, nor her siblings; would have any desire to hear from one such as myself. Though, I wouldn't dismiss the insight, that should any of the deities wish to hear the words and whispers of such a soul, it would be Caligo. After all, who else would ruminate upon the wishes of a being so confined to the night." The vampire's words had softened, almost to the point of being solely for her own ears, despite the fact they were spoken to Thomasin.

Valan paused then, her attention returning to the other, and a gentle smile returned, chasing away the shadows that had taken over her features for a brief moment. It was true, Valan struggled at times with what her life had become - of the darkness she was now enthralled by. So entangled by the webs of the night, the same brush of daylight could lead her to pain and suffrage. Her rose-tinted gaze watched the other, as she shifted, the slight clink of chains, the subtle brush of rose petals against razor-sharp thorned vines, "And you, Miss Thomasin, do you often kneel prone before the divine? I haven't entertained many who devote their lives to worship in my numerous years. Of course, many of the most enthralled by the gods consider my presence a slight against such consecrated ground." Her gaze returned once more to the patron of this Court, her expression gentling, "It's a tragedy, how often fear can corrupt devotions." And how often that fear can see her being placed in the crosshairs. Targeted by those who consider her a sinful being of evil.

@Thomasin

for goodness sake
where is my self control?
if home is where my heart is
then my heart has lost all hope

x | x

[Thomasin]

the bitterness of winter or the sweetness of spring

you are an artist and your heart is your masterpiece

"It is a delight to make your acquaintance, Miss Thomasin."

Over her four – almost five – years of life, Thomasin had naturally heard her name countless times. Her mother, Emmaline, had usually said it with disdain or indifference, yet her father Abraham called to her in a sing-song nature, very rarely did he raise his voice to her. But the lamb had yet to meet someone who spoke her name like it was molten chocolate. Out of the pale mistress’s mouth, Thomasin actually believed her name sounded beautiful – even if just for a fleeting moment.

She said she was delighted.

The dusty mare could feel herself glowing at that comment, a brief bout of bashfulness that she could feel in the leaves of her ribcage flora; the ferns and flowers of her vascular system perked up as if just watered, as if the words Thomasin captured in her large doe ears were liquid sunshine. She had once heard that if spoken to nicely plants will thrive, versus ignored or even worse – belittled. Respectfully, she was certain Valan was using her elegance and tact to speak, but Thomasin chose to believe that she genuinely meant it just a little. Her heart did a skip-happy dance, and sheepishly she raised her eyes to meet the rosy gaze of the mare. “The pleasure is all mine, Miss Valan.”

As Valan continued to speak, Thomasin awaited each syllable on baited breath, hungry to know if she was here to share the gift of praise. A flickering look of disappointment danced across her face as the other had admitted that she believed that neither Caligo or her divine counterparts would ever care to listen. Immediately, the petite dryad felt compelled to reach out in comfort, for the assumption that the Gods would be blind or deaf to her worship was a theory they once shared. She, too, believed at one point in her life that Caligo could never bless a meek and fragile thing like her. Instead of speaking, Thomasin chose to remain quiet and attentive – her stare no longer meandering and seeking comfort, but settled softly on the face of this stranger. With her shoulders relaxed, and her tiny head raised, she hoped through her body language that she could portray her willingness to listen. 

This lovely creature, for just a moment, seemed melancholy. A self-proclaimed prisoner of the dark.  Thomasin only gently tipped her head in acknowledgement, before lifting her chin to encourage Valan to continue speaking. Despite doing her best to be a good audience and a lending ear, trying to piece together the cryptic words that Valan spoke was like arranging the pieces of an unfamiliar puzzle. Who was this mysterious woman entertaining in the night? What kind of life was she leading if she was not welcome on holy ground? As she chewed on her thought process, Thomasin tilted her head at an acute angle, appearing a bit quizzical. Perhaps she is a lady of the night.

That made sense. The lavish accessories, her beautiful cosmetics, the way her presence seemed to silently demand your attention. Instinctively, she wished to recede. She knew she was not well versed in pleasures outside of worship, and was not sure if it was her place to comment on such a lifestyle. If she were to follow her mother’s example, she should chastise this creature for the career path she had chosen – redemption was not far if she would just ask for it.

A pain in her heart made Thomasin turn her face away from Valan and the sculpt of Caligo. Her father’s words echoed in her memories: Don’t judge them, my lamb. It’s not the way of Caligo. When you leave home, you will meet a magical assortment of characters. All of them, every single one, whether they align with you or not, deserves grace. Show them grace.

With what little might she had, Thomasin took a deep breath to prepare herself. “Pardon my boldness, but I believe you might be a little . . . wrong, Miss Valan.” She deflated instantly, biting on her lower lip in hopes that she would not enrage the winter flame; she was thrilled that the hardest part of speaking her opinion had passed. “You are welcome here at all times. Worship works well in pairs if you ever need an ear to listen; Perhaps you are entertaining the wrong patrons.” 

A warm simper curled the corners of her lips. Her fawn ears drooped against the back of her skull in a humble fashion as she pivoted towards the monument that was her Goddess, temporarily exposing the gaping biome in her body. “Fear should not be our motivator when giving praise to the almighty. I make my affirmations daily - I choose to kneel because my devotions are simply an act of love and gratefulness for the life that I have lived.”

“I choose to respect you and accept your lifestyle – just as I believe Caligo herself would. If you are at home in the night, so be it. You are in Denocte. We all live in the night.” She faced Valan once more, the homeliness of her smile genuine, her raincloud eyes tender and inviting as she studied the way the candlelight played on the gilded veins of the other opposite of her. It would take more than an escort to push away Thomasin or her faith. She bowed her head a half-step in respect. 

“You are a work of the Gods, and like all tangible and wonderful works, you too deserve my praise.”


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"talking." thinking.

tagged: @Valan

vibing to: X

CODE IMAGE

[Valan]

i'm insane
well, i can feel it in my bones
coursing through my veins,
when did i become so cold?

The mare was delighted by the company so far, even if she wasn't entirely sure what to make of the odd, little being. She was such a sweet thing, shy and delicate, yet so respectful. The bashfulness had a slight smile tugging at the features of the night-risen being, amused gently as she dipped her head in acknowledgement to the words, "Please, just Valan, no need for formalities with me." There was almost a plea to the request, especially since technically, it should be Mrs; as my all technicalities, she was a widow, was she not? Although, perhaps her late husband had been widowed first. He was the one who tried to kill her first, and did succeed to point, as she's now more undead than alive. But she was certainly a widow herself, having successfully completed that task when she'd ripped into his throat. "I'm not one for titles, they always seem far more proper and expectant of high manners. Such caution to appear ones best can so often get in the way of true exchanging of pleasantries and conversation, do you not agree?"

Of course, she saw the disappointment on the smaller mare's face, when she'd commented on the likelihood (or lack thereof) of the gods wanting to give her even a second glance. But she knew the young mare wouldn't understand. Not when she tried so hard to keep the mortals from realizing just who they were talking with. Of course, she wouldn't realize her mistake just yet, when it came to the secrets to keep. Still, the young one had shifted position, quiet, attentive, and yet a relaxed stance, as if to show a willingness to listen. It was almost bittersweet in the eyes of the ancient vampiress, even as she allowed herself to speak. Of course, it was as the other tilted her head, expression quizzical that Valan began to sense perhaps she should be more cautious with her word choices.

How to describe you're perceived to be a creature of evil without declaring yourself a creature of evil - and so she tried, to figure out how to say it, how to explain it. Thomasin shifted, drawing her gaze back to the smaller mare. She drew in a deep breath, and Valan fell quiet, her expression curious about what would be said. She felt her muzzle twitch in amusement at the apology of her boldness, but nevertheless, the belief that Valan was wrong. The instant deflation was discouraging, rather approving of the boldness, the standing-taller Thomasin could show over the shy, sheepish countenance she seemed to prefer, "Hush, there is nothing to pardon when one feels the courage to speak their mind." Valan argued gently before she tilted her head when the other continued. Welcomed in the church - one must wonder would that be true if she arrived with black eyes, sipping blood from a goblet, with her fangs on display. Then she tilted her head at the comment of her entertaining the wrong patrons.

Her expression shifted, a confused; if not small frown. "Patrons?" She repeated the words, wondering how those monster hunters out to take her down for being a 'monster' could be confused as patrons. Sure, she was an entertainer, a dancer, a singer, a lady raised on the arts, but monster hunters rarely tried to coy their way in. They preferred a more violent approach. A creature of the night didn't have monster hunters playing patrona-. Valan's thoughts paused, her face shifting briefly, flickering through emotions. Patrons. Night. Being of the Night. Entertaining. Her eyes slowly widened, and if she was capable of blushing she would be. Instead, she shuffled her hooves awkwardly, shaking her head quickly, torn before laughing and squealing in denial, "Oh, oh! No, you've misunderstood me! I'm certainly . . . I'm not . . . I . . . oh, oh dear." Her ears flickered back, the well-put-together mare seeming to come apart in sudden embarrassment, even as she couldn't help but laugh.

Unfortunately, it's hard to laugh with your mouth shut, and her fangs flashed in her embarrassed mirth, "No, I, well; I am certainly not 'entertaining any patrons'. I am, most certainly, not a courtesan. I apologize for any confusion I may have caused." The vampire's smile dropped slightly, turning melancholy once more, "Though, perhaps to those who slander my existence; it'd be better if I was." Was a painted lady better than a fanged monster, with bloodshot eyes? Her smile turned gentle, as she glanced back towards the mare, only to pause, her eyes locked onto the gaping hole that seemed to be alive with vegetation. She doesn't comment, it would be unfair when one considered the sleeping roses that clung to her body as they rested. Thomasin was speaking once more, stating that fear should not be a motivator for giving praise, that devotions should be an act of love, gratefulness for life lived. She continued, to express respect for herself, her lifestyle, and Valan wondered if she would state that if she knew the truth. If she knew the truth behind the creature she saw. If she reached to her chest and realized her heart was silent, un-beating. Denocte, yes, they live in the night; of course, but the Terrastellan knew better to believe that everyone would see that, feel that if they realized who they spoke with.

Then the mare spoke again, and this time Valan looked away, her tail brushing the ground, the chaotic, wild curls seeming to grasp at the tiled floor beneath their hooves, "Miss Thomasin, I'm no work of the gods." The vampiress turned to face the young patron of the gods, and this time, her rose-hued gaze was steady, unmoving, "Perhaps, when I was first birthed into this world, a precious soul; I could be called such. But . . . upon my death, it was not a god that gave me another chance. I do belong to the night world, but dear Thomasin; not in the way you belong to the Night Court." The vampire seemed to stand taller, her wild curls swaying and moving, even as she smiled gently as if to not appear terrifying, "I'm the construct of a monstrous species, and it's the hunters who wish to see the end of my kind, that use fear and devotions to the gods to drive the stakes through our hearts." She shook her head gently, hearing the soft clinking of the delicate gold chains, "You state you would respect me, accept my lifestyle, that Caligo, herself; would as well."

Valan's gaze grew soft but apologetic, "My people's lifestyle is of murder, of preying on others for our own wretched survival." Her gaze turned away, head bowing slightly, those dark trails of dyed tear tracks into her cheeks from the night of her death, and rebirth into this life; stood in sharp relief with the flickering light of the candles. Her eyes cut back towards Thomasin, this time, the predatory sheen of a night hunter reflecting off those orbs from the direct light of the candle, "I do not deserve your acceptance, nor your kind words. Miss Thomasin, I am, after all; a monster."

@Thomasin

for goodness sake
where is my self control?
if home is where my heart is
then my heart has lost all hope

x | x

[Thomasin]

the bitterness of winter or the sweetness of spring

you are an artist and your heart is your masterpiece

There was no shortage of wild embarrassment as Thomasin had realized her grave mistake. The elegant, moon-bathed lady before her was not at all a concubine like she had so wrongfully assumed. The tiny flower nymph was slapped in the face with bright red cheeks. How dare she, in her self-righteous tirade, make such terrible assumption.

“Mis- I mean, Valan, I am so regretfully sorry I meant you no disrespect! I am –“ Thomasin halted in her train of speech as she heard laughter rise from the winter flame. It was such a charming sound: if laughter could be a color, Thomasin imagined that Valan’s would be silver, a shimmer of dancing light. It was pleasing to realize that the other knew it was an honest misunderstanding. 

She was surprised when her own quiet laughter joined the choral. Though it did not last as long as she would have wished, for the mare thought she had caught a glimpse of sharp teeth in the mouth of the joyful lady. She blinked rapidly, sure that she had just made another mistake.

And then the tone changed: the atmosphere becoming stale, the air was now heavy as Valan began to speak. She denied being a product of the Heavens, mentioned that upon her death she had become realigned with a different breed of nightlife; perhaps insinuating that she herself was a different breed altogether.  “Surely you jest –“ She mused quietly, more to herself than to the other. How could she have died but still breathe air? Still stand intact, with her marbled skin untouched by decay? 

Monstrous. Murder. Wretched. All these words tied a twisting knot in the pit of Thomasin’s stomach. She remained dead silent as she listened. Caught like a deer in the headlights, transfixed; time seeming to stretch between them. A sort of numbness began to tickle her skin, seeping through her pores and running its course through her veins. Thomasin audibly swallowed, suddenly very aware of how vulnerable she was. 

Run.

She was scared. Fight or flight was beginning to manifest in her body, but for some reason, she could not will her delicate legs to move. 

Pick up your feet. Run to the entrance.

Her gaze darted in the direction of the doorway – back through the foyer, past the galvanized firepits. She could run it blind if needed to, having visited this great hall so many times before, her muscle memory would surely take over. Tears began to rim the edge of her eyes as panic infiltrated her body. Her heart began to beat at a frighteningly quick cadence, so hard that it trembled the foliage in her ribcage – as if desperately trying to escape the very roots and moss that held it in place. 

You s t u p i d baby why won’t you run!

Paralyzed, stupefied with fear, Thomasin knew that even if she could find the power to pivot and sprint away, that she would not be able to outrun her. A nervous string of giggles crawled out of her throat; her stare finally locked on to Caligo’s stone façade. Perhaps if she wasn’t scared stiff, she would kneel and beg for protection, she would cry out to be spared, that she had only just started to really live.

Knowing her options were limited, she placed all her bets on appealing to this pale woman’s better nature. “You must forgive me again; I am not sure what kind of creature you are talking about. I have been quite sheltered. . . “ Her voice quivered as she was reminded of the predatory reflection she witnessed in Valan’s pink eyes. Sure, Thomasin had heard stories of strange shapes stealing away your blood – your life – in the deep of night. To be honest though, Thomasin never stuck around to listen to those tales. She never did like scary stories. 

Although she was beginning to believe they weren’t stories; they were warnings.

A deep, rattling breath escaped her. She turned her face back to the winter flame. “I do not question why the wolf does what he does in order to survive. He is also a work of the Gods. Just as the tiger, or the mighty Gryphons in the mountains. They are not monsters for simply existing, Valan.”

She swallowed again, her knobby knees slightly shivering in growing anticipation of a chase. Despite the threat of her immenient crying, she spoke on. “They still deserve my praise. As do you. I see no monster here. Just a beautiful creature who has shown me nothing but kindness, who has kept my company instead of disposing it.” A falter in her gentle voice cause it to crack with emotion. Disposed. She was reminded of her breakable morality, knowing how easily it could be taken from her. 

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"talking." thinking.

tagged: @Valan sorry for the delay! 

vibing to: X

CODE IMAGE

[Valan]

i'm insane
well, i can feel it in my bones
coursing through my veins,
when did i become so cold?

There was a tremendous amount of joy that seemed to settle over that unbeaten heart. The knowledge that she was holding a conversation, even having another enjoy her company. Her form hadn't combust upon entering this hallowed ground, and the timeless beauty felt herself beginning to relax among it all. And yet, in the depths of her mind, she couldn't help but remember. The lamb before her, the innocent soul; who was she to trick such precious innocence into being friendly. Was it not the nature of her people to decieve, and was that not what she was doing now. Had she been a proper vampiress, she'd have decieved until the point where she could strike with out warning. Fangs would split the skin like butter, the blood would flow freely. And yet, to Valan, just the mere idea of such a thing turned her stomach and soured her mouth.

Monster, wretch, murderer, villain, disaster, danger. She was so much more than just a concubine who fluttered the streets for a bit of wealth and company. She was so much more indentured to the night, trapped in its web, forbidden from entering the daylight, lest she feels the burn of that righteous light. This precious little lamb, how Valan envied her for her life, youth, innocence, and fragility; oh how Valan envied her.

She could see the embarrassment color the little mare's cheeks, see the horror she felt as she realized her mistake. The other moved to apologize, and Valan couldn't help the laughter. She couldn't help the merry amusement nor the smile that graced her muzzle. "Oh, my dear; it is quite alright. It's not the worst thing I have ever been titled, I assure you." There was a warmth that blossomed in that cold heart to hear, to witness this beautiful, little creature laugh with her. To hear their voices, unbridled, join together. Valan could almost forget this wasn't a meeting between Predator and Prey for a moment. For a moment, Valan could almost pretend she was just enjoying her time, once more as a proper, young heiress, a lady who enjoyed walks in the rose gardens by the daylight. Who chased after a scruffy, handsome stallion who tended the gardens. Who hadn't died the fateful night of her wedding.

As soon as she had spoken of her death, she knew that things would change. Her gaze danced about the room before jolting back to Thomasin when she suggested that Valan was merely participating in a joke, even if an unsightly one. Valan didn't smile, however. Instead, her eyes turned mournful, apologetic, like roses downcast and dying. "I shan't lie." Was her only response, shifting slightly, her gaze moving away from Thomasin again, the small and subtle movements for show, and not a necessity. Like any Vampiress, she was capable of holding perfectly still a living (or unliving) statuette.

But she didn't lie, continued to speak, even as she could see Thomasin, from the corner of her eye, the silence, the transfixed expression, the audible swallow picked up by the ears of a predator. She watched those eyes dart towards the doorway, the twitch and tremble of muscles, the increasing pounding of a heart prepared to fly to safety, preparing to rush the body with the adrenaline needed to attempt a move for survival.

Valan didn't move, didn't even return her attention directly to Thomasin, but she visibly flinched at the nervous giggles, knowing she was the root, the cause of this fear. Shame flashed across her features, her gaze clouding with a self-loathing as she knew this was the part where the prey realized the predator shared space with them. This was the part where the quarry would try to run away, and a typical predator would chase. But . . . Valan wasn't normal. She wasn't a predator. She was just trapped in a predator's body. A rabbit that was masquerading as a fox.

When the little lamb finally spoke, Valan didn't respond right away, noting how the young mare quivered, seeming to grow more certain of the danger she thought she was in. "I once was rather sheltered myself. Still am, by some standards." She mused quietly, gently, as she took a soft breath in, unnecessarily breathing air when her body didn't require it. The other mare turned to face her, and Valan found her breath halting.

The vampiress seemed frozen, afraid even to breathe. At least she scared the little lamb away, especially as Thomasin spoke. The vampire tilted her head, finally taking a short breath, only if to keep up composure, her gaze trouble, hesitating. "But they have a place in this grand design. What sort of place do I have in this world?" The vampire asked softly, turning her gaze up to Caligo, "I often wondered, what the gods think of me now . . . What do they see when they look down upon me." She turned her attention back towards Thomasin, her gaze touching first the knees that shook and then the tears that welled in her eyes.

"You say I deserve praise, that you see no monster. Yet you quiver like a leaf in the wind, tears waiting to fall. You fear me, do you not, Miss Thomasin?" Valan's gaze lowered to her dainty hooves, kicking out at the floor beneath them, "I would not fault you if you did. It would be rather self-preserving of you, in fact." The vampire glanced up slowly, the wild curls of her forelock shadowing those soft, pale pink eyes, "I shan't chase if you were to leave, I assure you." Her features softened, delicate and forlorn, "I'm used to being ran away from. I certainly prefer it to being attacked." She shook her head, the soft sound of the golden chainlinks clanked together against her gray, marbling hide, "But I do swear, I would not chase . . ." Her gaze lifted, earnest, almost pleading to be believed, "I may be in a predator's body, but I could never prey upon another. I could never bring myself to harm, to end a life again." She flinches at the admission. She'd done it once before, even if she does not offer an explanation nor ask for forgiveness. "You ask me what sort of monster I am . . . as I said, I shan't tell you any lies.

"I'm a vampire, Miss Thomasin. But while I am a monster, I swear, solemnly I swear upon my own half-life, beneath the statue of Caligo herself, at least she cast me from this world for falsehoods in her presence; I am not a predator. I am not one to cause you, or any other harm." Valan just desperately wanted a friend.

@Thomasin

for goodness sake
where is my self control?
if home is where my heart is
then my heart has lost all hope

x | x

[Thomasin]

the bitterness of winter or the sweetness of spring

you are an artist and your heart is your masterpiece

The wind suddenly whipped through the keep, it stirred the candles and made their flames dance wildly. In the firelight, Valan was an unrecognizable shape to Thomasin. The winter flame was now a creature of lore and whispers, something that would go bump in the night, a bogey-man.

How weak the little lamb must have looked – fragile and breakable, as if the wind would push her over and shatter her delicate body into pieces scattered across the cobblestone. A familiar pain grew in her; all she was was a glass doll, try as she might to become anything stronger or braver, she knew deep within her heart that she was always going to be a keepsake: something pretty, sure, but something you place on the highest shelf in hopes of not breaking her. A porcelain vase, a family heirloom to watch all the action from the inside. Never touched. Collecting dust.

God, how she longed to be something more. Not just a frail treasure. How she wished to be a scarf instead – something well worn and loved, wrapped around someone she could share her warmth with. Maybe a coat so that she could always give you a hug – or a quilt that is dirty and starting to fray at the ends, but nevertheless a comfort – a needed item.

Her mother had always told her that Thomasin was much too naïve to last long in this world, and it would only be a matter of time before reality would turn her hard and calloused. Kicked out of her childhood home, Thomasin insisted that the world couldn’t be as wicked and cruel as her mother painted it out to be. She would find her place, she would grow braver each day, make both her parents proud.

But as Valan noted her shaking and emotional distress, as this moon wraith continued to speak about how she chose to never end a life again, Thomasin could no longer keep the flood gates closed. Fat tears spilled down the soft curves of her mousy cheeks. She quietly chewed on her bottom lip and looked at the floor with shame. Valan was right: Thomasin was deathly afraid of her. She wrestled with the whine in her throat, forcing herself to remain quiet and just cry. She couldn’t even find the will to turn towards the exit anymore, she simply had accepted that this was her fate. Enchanted, charmed, and then destroyed. She had finally felt like - just maybe - she was being picked up off her shelf, like her adventure beyond these self-constructed walls was going to finally commence. But whatever vice held her did not seem friendly, and it threatened to crush her.

Vampire. Thomasin cataloged this name in her brain: blood-spiller, blood-drinker. Thomasin listened carefully, flinching at every candlelight flicker, waiting for Valan to come closer and rob her of her life. Yet, to her surprise, she did not move closer. In fact, the pale one swore in front of Caligo, that while a monster, she would never harm. The dusty mare kept her head down in submission, but those red-rimmed sorrowful eyes lifted to look at Valan. For a moment, she felt fear begin to be replaced by a different feeling: it was empathy. There was a sort of sadness in the other woman’s voice that sounded so achingly familiar.

Monster. The meek mare was used to that word – not used quite in the same context. For Thomasin would never be capable of harming a fly, but she did have others judge her based on her appearance – based on what they thought they knew about her. Memories of childhood tormentors fluttered across the back of her eyelids, children trying to pick the flowers from her ribcage, taking sticks and trying to poke and prod at her heart. Disgusting. Unnatural. Freak.

Thomasin lifted her chin, sniffled, and shook the tears from her eyes. She spoke at a whisper for it was all she could muster. “Forgive me, Valan.”  She rapidly fluttered her lashes, trying to expel the last of her sadness. “You are right. I am very scared of you.” Her breath shook with every syllable she forced from her mouth. “But to be fair, Valan, I am afraid of everything. I am not brave. I am very weak and – “

Thomasin choked up again, but straightened her posture, and turned her raincloud eyes to Caligo’s likeness. “But I choose to believe that you would not harm me; I choose to think that you’re not a monster, just unfamiliar, and I feel like most of us are afraid of the unknown.”

“Caligo would love you.” Thomasin could feel her glow returning. Her heart was slowing and content in the bed of her moss. “You can’t change my mind on that. I am not a masterful work like the Gods. I have a terrible habit of my emotions getting the better of me, but if you could give me grace. . .” She finally returned her eyes to Valan – it pleased her to look at her. The glimmer of her necklaces hugging her marbled skin – why, it made Thomasin realize that there are delicate things out there that are probably well-loved. 
 
“Valan, you scared me before you felt the need to tell me about yourself. You’re so lovely, well-put together. I would assume you are a woman of high stature, who enjoys the finer things. You intimidate me. ” A sigh of embarrassment puffed up her lips. “I have always been a bit of a scruff; elegance and beauty has seemed to evade me. Perhaps I am not meant to be ethereal, I am learning to accept this. My heart-“ The lamb shifted, blaringly uncomfortable. “My heart hangs exposed and I grow a garden from my bones. I am not the best at first impressions either. I have been looked down upon in disgust, like an oddity, like a burden because I am so vulnerable.” Her feet grew hot against the floor, screaming at her that there was still a chance to leave, but instead of listening to them, she chose to deliberately disobey her instincts.

Thomasin took a few steps forward to try and eat the distance between them.  Her gaze was unfaltering as she drank in the creature's wild, cranberry curls and her pastel eyes, following down the valleys and depths of her body, to the collection of roses she adorned herself with. Despite her nerves, despite her body desperately yearning to leave, she felt compelled to stay, compelled to give Valan the chance that Thomasin so eagerly wanted herself. “I may be weak, and I do not carry the burdens you carry. I do not know your purpose in this life, I cannot tell you your place or where your fit in the puzzle. But I know Caligo loves me, and I know in my heart she loves you. So you don’t have to figure it out alone.”

Still a bit bleary, a small chuckle escaped the lamb’s pink mouth. “This has turned into quite the confessional, hasn’t it?” Her smile, though small, was warm and inviting.

“Please, it’s just Thomasin. I think we can move past the formalities.”

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"talking." thinking.

tagged: @Valan

vibing to: X

CODE IMAGE

[Valan]

i'm insane
well, i can feel it in my bones
coursing through my veins,
when did i become so cold?

The air was changing. The very feeling of this meeting. What had started out as friendly seemed to be continuing to sour, and Valan found herself in a state of expectation. Expecting the fear, the pleading, the tears, the eventual running. The wind whipped through the area, whistling off walls. Flames seemed to dance, and Valan looked towards those candles briefly, unaware of the altering of her own image in Thomasin's eyes. Unaware the lamb was seeing the predator, and was now waiting for the attack.

There was a lot about Thomasin she wasn't seeing yet, she wouldn't be able to see without more information on the young mare. So much unknown that it reminded Valan, she herself was still an unknown. A stranger to even her own court, despite how long she'd been there . . . She'd been part of Dusk for ages. But she had grown bored, she had grown tired, and so she had slept for years beneath the soil. Until her beloved master had woken her ever so gently. The kind stallion who'd given her a second shot at life, and didn't fault her for her unique way of living as a vampire.

Even among vampires, she felt odd. She was too weak for a vampire, unwilling to hunt, to feed, to dominate. She was too much of a monster for mortals, tainted by the blood lust of her fellows. She was in a slot all her own. Alone, but desperate for a friend. Afraid, but desperate to prove herself. And wanting, oh how much she wanted so, so much. She'd thought she'd found a sense of that with Thomasin. A friend, someone to turn to. And now, because of her own foolish mouth, she'd ruined it. Her fault. Soon the young mare would run, would escape, and Valan would be left alone in the dark - again.

What kind of life was that, that she was leading? Her heart tore in half, seeing the tears start to fall down the other mare's cheeks. Instantly Valan had taken a step forward, her muzzle dropping open in horror, shame; reaching it to comfort. She paused, however, hesitating, and then drawing back, taking a step away. Her fault, it was her fault. Thomasin was afraid, so afraid with her. The tears were proof. Valan turned slightly, her head ducking towards her chest, wild curls falling around her face, obscuring the pain, the shame on her own features in those brief moments.

She couldn't risk touching, breaking something else. So instead she'd told the truth. What little else could she do. Still, Valan was frozen as the other flinched at the candlelight, the way she seemed to wait for Valan to attack. Wait for Valan to prove her monstrous tendencies. To prove she was such a dangerous being. So Valan did the only thing she could do, swearing before the goddess the little lamb seemed to care so much for. When her eyes lifted slowly, Valan found herself frozen in them. She didn't move. She didn't breathe. The one look seemed to have turned her into a statue as she stared back into those reddened eyes, the tears having made dark tracks against the fur of Thomasin's cheeks. Valan couldn't bring herself to do anything - waiting for the hateful words, the cries to never come near - the coming escape.

The fact she was about to be left alone. Again. A friendless vampire who just wanted to feel connections. Why wouldn't they leave? She'd seen it before. Get to close, see the fangs. The stallions would come together as a mob, waving torches, and shooting at her with silver-tipped arrows, chasing her from whatever home she'd claimed with stakes of any random bits of wood. The screams that she was preying on the children. Seducing the husbands. Murdering the herds. Would Thomasin leave, only to return to a mob. Would she be chased out of Night Court, unable to return? Would Thomasin aim a stake at her heart? Monster. Villian. Murderer. Blood-Sucker. Leech. Vampire

What she was not expecting, however; was the apology. It was a whisper, intermingled with sniffles. Valan wondered if this was the apology before the betrayal. Could you be betrayed by someone you only just met? Did it require more than a little bit of time conversing? Valan, however, had finally found herself drawing in a breath again, shifting away, finally unfolding herself from the embrace of the other's eyes. Instead, her gaze returned to the ground, pale pink eyes seeming to lower as she paused, she waited, she expected the dismissal. Her ears perked, her entire body seeming to flinch when Thomasin admitted she was afraid of her. Of course, she was, why wouldn't she be. She could hear it in the way her voice shook, in the way her breath seemed to wobble. And then . . . she called herself weak.

Valan was raised a lady, a lady of extremely high society, meant to be a queen of a country. She had impeccable manners, was well learned, and knew to put her best hoof forward and always be presentable. She knew to be courteous, she knew to be gentle, she knew to never be insulting. And she knew you never interrupted in another. For Thomasin, she broke that rule, "Miss Thomasin! How could you ever condone calling yourself weak? You stand before me, now; despite being afraid; I believe that, in and of itself; to be bravery. When you look a predator in the eye, and you refuse to give in, no matter the fear. That is bravery, that is not weakness!" It hurt, calling herself a predator, but perhaps, the more she encouraged these thoughts, the faster Thomasin would leave.

The sooner Valan felt the coming pain of abandonment, the sooner she'd get over it again. The sooner she could try again, move on, and eventually understand that solitude would just have to be her future. But that didn't mean she would sit back and allow Thomasin to deny her own strengths. The smaller mare turned, her gaze on the goddess, and at her next words, Valan found herself frozen once more. Choosing . . . to believe that she wasn't to harm her? That she was not a monster, just . . . unfamiliar. The weakness was back in Valan's eyes, waiting for the ball to drop, the coming cruel laughter as she was led into a trap, for surely that must be what came next.

Valan was never accepted once others found out who she was, what she was. Then those words and Valan's gaze moved up to the statue, swallowing hard at the cursed four-letter word. The word that seemed to have ruined her life too many times to count. "I don't need love." The denial came quickly, but it was spoken with a quiver to the vampire's voice, a weakness, a fair of that four-letter word that had destroyed her whole world. "I do not deserve love."

Then she realized why she was so on edge, why she was waiting - Thomasin was calming down. Was this to be the calm before the storm? The pause before her destruction? And then those eyes met her own pale ones, and the mare with a garden to her chest startled the vampire into silence. The words spoken were what Valan tried so hard to achieve, and yet, all of a sudden she felt like it was a sham, that she had played a part, and now Thomasin had a copy of her playbook and was pointing out all the areas where it was wrong. To think, her mannerisms would be a cause of fear even before her fangs were seen. To be intimidating . . . . it was not what the vampiress wanted.

And then Thomasin spoke of herself, of elegance and beauty she couldn't reach, of not being ethereal, being one of disgust, oddity, burdensome. Valan didn't know what to say, not at the moment; because the words that were leaving Thomasin now, were the last ones Valan would have used. And then Thomasin was moving. Once more Valan froze, not breathing, not moving, turning herself into a living statue and she suddenly found herself far more afraid than she'd been in front of any other being.

The approach slowed, but Valan didn't immediately relax, her ears still pitched forward, listening to everything the little mare was saying. But . . . but those words, perhaps they were what she'd always wanted to hear, to not have to do it alone. Paired with the small smile, so warm, so inviting, Valan felt herself blinking, and in that rare moment, despite her vampiric nature, the tears welled up in her own eyes, dripping slightly down the stained black marks along her cheek, "You're wrong." She whispered so softly, it was like a breath into the distance between them. "You're not weak." She repeated, her words soft, but sure, "You're body may not be as strong as others. I cannot fathom the struggles of growing a garden in one's chest; surely. But if you've shown me anything of yourself today Miss Thomasin, it's that you have a remarkable strength of spirit. You ignore your fears, to stay here, to talk to me. You don't beat around the bush, you speak to get your point across, no matter what the content of your story may be.

"It is true, you do not know my burdens, or where I'm meant to be in this world, but you have the strength to admit it as well." Valan admitted softly, before she took a soft breath, her muzzle dropping, gently touching the dormant flower at her shoulder, caressing the petals that would have snuggled back if not for the fact they slept. Even with Rosario clinging to her body, she felt so alone, or she had . . . prior to this moment now. "You are correct, it has turned into quite the . . . conversation." She does smile back, but Valan's muzzle is closed, carefully hiding those shameful fangs, even as she pauses at the request, hesitating, uncertain, before finally nodding, "Of course Mi-, Thomasin, as you wish."

She pauses then, unsure of what to say, what to do, before she looks up slowly, cautiously, "If I may allow me to introduce myself properly then." Valan feels a sudden shyness, a sense she hadn't felt in a long time. It was like she was back in time, a young mare introducing herself to proper society for the first time again, "I am Valantine De'Chrys; Lady of House De'Chrys, although the name itself has been forgotten in time." She shifts into a playful curtsy, even as there is a vulnerability in her gaze, "Perhaps, you'd permit me the time that way may continue . . . our discussions. It's . . . been a truly long time since I've been able to have a company with another . . . and I have only recently woken up from four or five-hundred-year hibernation." She pauses, before she smiles beautifully, a controlled smile that keeps her fangs hidden, "And I find myself curious of the mortal who is willing to keep company with a vampire." Maybe for just a bit longer, she could keep this feeling of not being alone.

@Thomasin

for goodness sake
where is my self control?
if home is where my heart is
then my heart has lost all hope

x | x