[AW] dismiss the invisible

[Thomasin]

the bitterness of winter or the sweetness of spring

you are an artist and your heart is your masterpiece

Thomasin, with her lack of proper time around society, had such a difficult time deciphering whether Valan’s emotions were as true as they seemed. She wouldn’t think of such a refined, noble woman to lie to Thomasin, but perhaps that was her game. Was she playing with the lamb? Toying with her, a tiny field mouse caught in the teeth of a much wiser stray cat. There was a power she held over the littler one – she must have known it. Yet, Thomasin could not tell whether she really had her best intentions at heart.

It was a slap to the face to be interrupted like that. Wide deer ears drooped against the back of her minute head, eyes growing large, her facial features morphing into shame. She found her tail swept in between her hind legs, and suddenly felt so much tinier than usual. There was not much of a height difference between the two mares, which was a blessing because Thomasin got so tired of looking up at people. But in that moment, she was miniscule, just a speck of dust. Her gaze downcast as Valan called her brave for being able to speak in the face of a predator. Brave, or self-preservation? Her shame began to change into a strange sort of bashfulness. She had never been called brave before, even though she knew it was a lie, she couldn’t help but believe in it just a bit. 

Thomasin was quick to discard her own feelings as Valan continued, a sort of anguish in her eyes that made Thomasin’s heart ache with a need to reach out and touch her. She dare not, but there was a sort of longing in her gaze as she reconnected their stares. "I don't need love." The words stung.

Don’t speak like that. Thomasin’s face twisted into a grimace. 

Stop talking like that, please.

It was not her place to correct the way Valan spoke of herself, because Thomasin, too, was so harshly self-critical. She did not wish to be hypocritical, especially after she had just been called out for calling herself weak and scared. But, nonetheless, they shared that pain, and in that realization, made Thomasin second guess what else they might have in common.
 
Her eyes fell to the pink of her own toes. “Everyone deserves love.” It was a shell of a statement. 

She watched her speak again, of strength in her spirit. Although their woes different, they could recognize that they both had some troubles – burdens that weighed on their shoulders. The chai-colored dryad tucked her head, unsure of how to digest all the praise she had been given. She was great at giving, terrible at receiving. Instead she chose to distract herself with the thorny floral that clung to Valan's body - was it simply a fashion statement, or maybe she too had flowers growing from her skin? Thomasin was unsure, but the way that the pale woman touched the petals could have moved Thomasin to tears again. 

How could a creature meant for destruction, violence, and blood-shed, be so tender?

But then a proper introduction. Thomasin perked up, her ears rotated and cupped towards the vampire’s direction, thirsty to drink in her words. A sort of flutter tickled her stomach. It made sense she was a lady of a house, some ancient and mysterious title that shrouded her in an air of royalty. The lamb wondered, briefly, if she used to dance at balls, swept away by prince charmings as they tried to woo and court her. How could they not want to ask her hand to dance?

“Valantine.” The winter flame had a full name; it was like homemade candy on her tongue, it stuck to her teeth and refused to be forgotten - and when she spoke it, you could hear the saccharine way it dripped from her. Thomasin watched with a tender simper, her eyes - although glassy from her recent episode - glimmered in wonder as Valan folded herself into a curtsy. Was the reason she was able to move like that – so sinuous in even the most mundane of gestures – because she was vampiric? Was that part of her charm? Was that her end goal, to enchant and have Thomasin lower her guard?

Because unfortunately, it was working.

“My lady.” She whispered back playfully, following suit and giving a curtsy; even as she bent herself, Thomasin did not take her eyes off of Valan, her expression soft and thoughtful as she searched her rose-colored eyes. She wasn’t sure what she was hoping to discover, but she was adamant in staying there for a moment, staying in those eyes – was she hungry? Was she seeing how close her prey would get before the chase? Four to five hundred years of gnawing hunger must be getting to her. 

Thomasin chose to ignore the age, though she was bewildered and curious, she still was apprehensive of the answers she might receive. She wanted to know who this lady was, what her character was, before she dove into the physicality and chemistry of whatshe was. “I would be delighted to keep your company tonight, for as long as you will have me.”

Thomasin didn't wish to linger, she moved on quickly to the next subject in hoping of continuing to calm her nerves. The more she could find to relate, the more she got to know this stranger, the closer they could become; the was the goal. Whether a test from Caligo, or perhaps just a lucky twist of fate, Thomasin was determined to see past the veil of predator. 

“Tell me, Valan, did you dream when you slept? What does a vampire dream of?”

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"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?

Valan was used to trouble. You don't become part of the living dead with out expecting trouble. She knew what it felt like to be chased by those you had thought friendly. She knew what it was like to be betrayed by those you let too close. Her master was constantly worrying, fretting, reminding her to not trust the mortals. Yet, like a moth drawn to the flame, eager and willing to be burnt for a brief moment of brightness, she couldn't deny the attraction. The way the mortals just lived. It was beautiful, it was chaotic, it was imperfect, it was . . . it was everything she wanted, and everything she was denied. Perhaps it was why she was trying to cling to Thomasin just as much as she was trying to chase the poor lamb away. Away from the gaping maw of the predator. Away from the disaster Valan caused in interacting with mortals. Away from her, least she grow too comfortable, and the inevitable abandonment hurt all the more.

Perhaps it was why she didn't necessarily halt herself when interrupting Thomasin. It was an unsightly act, and while she felt the need to correct the mare, to tell the smaller creature just what she truly was; what she truly possessed within her fragile body; that strength wasn't just physical . . . she knew it would have been proper to wait her turn, not to cut her off. But if she make herself unappealing, wouldn't it be sooner Thomasin would leave, sooner she would feel the sting of abandonment, and the sooner she could get over it again. No, that was a lie; she never truly got over it. Or she wouldn't be already preparing to protect herself again. You don't get over abandonment, betrayal attempts against your life. But the sooner they leave, the less it hurts. And she could see the way the little mare seemed to retreat into herself at the interruption.

And it panged Valan's heart to be the cause of such a distinct retreat. Even if that shame began to change, began to shift, a bashfulness that had Valan halting, pausing, uncertain. She had only spoken what she had seen in the young mare, but . . . but seeing that sort of bashfulness, the way her gaze turned downcast . . . there was a moment where even Valan had to admit the enactment was . . . was, well; cute. When was the last time she'd found someone's mannerisms cute? More often than not she was too busy trying to match them, to make sure she mimicked their small movements, to make herself seem more alive, less still, less dead. But for the moment, all she did was watch Thomasin, just watch her.

She knew, deep in her heart, Thomasin could be a friend, someone who could understand her, get her; see through the shroud of lady-like vampirism, to the mare that resides within her. If given the chance, had she been mortal, would a friendship have blossomed already? But she wasn't mortal. She mustn't for it. She needed to remember. She wasn't that special. She was dead. Empty. Lifeless. Nothing. And then the other spoke so freely of love . . . so, so freely. Valan had seen the dark side of love. She'd seen it, felt it, experienced it in its purity. She'd thought she'd found her forever, lost beneath the willows, playfully chasing each other around the roses. She'd been promised a forever with him, and then Nikolai had come in, had forced her into a marriage, had murdered her beloved when he'd discovered the truth of Nikolai . . . and then, Nikolai had killed her within their chambers hours after the wedding.

Love was pain. Loss. A black hole that would suck up your happiness and leave you a shell. A horrible, empty shell. And it was because of her that her beloved gardener had died, had found himself on the wrong side of a tyrant king content with making all others bow before him. It was her only kill, but it had been an avenging act of not just her own loss of life, but his loss of life as well. Her sweet gardener was among the flowers in the heavens, but she'd made sure that the individual who had cut him down as if he were a weed, and not a precious rose; would rot in hell for what he'd done.

She wouldn't put her heart through that again. She couldn't. She didn't deserve it. Not when her best friend had died in an attempt to protect, to save her. She couldn't do that to herself, or anyone else like that. Valan was a lovely creature, but inside, she was a mess of pain, hiding behind perfect smiles. The words spoken by Thomasin caused her to flinch, caused the slight welling of tears in her eyes, those tears as black as the marks stained into her cheeks, "I had my chance once . . . we both died, and only I came back." She whispered softly. She didn't continue, she didn't want to. Besides, there was something better, purer to talk about.

Thomasin.

And she had no issues to lay on those praises, to speak so gently about the coffee-hued flower just beginning to bud. The little lamb that didn't mind spending time with the lion. Did Thomasin know, know at all, how much these precious moments would be held in the highest regard within the pale dame's mind? These weren't moments she would just forget . . . even when Thomasin finally realized she was better off running away. These conversations would be replayed. Yet . . . why was Thomasin still here? Every moment, every second that turned into another minute where they were sharing company had Valan finding less, and less stable ground. Thomasin had seen her fangs, had learned the truth, had cried in fear. Why was she still here? Didn't she realize that Valan was a threat? A monster that could rip into her delicate skin. Could turn those delightfully soft colors of her pelt red with blood. Could tear her into pieces before anyone had any idea that a monster was feasting.

Why hadn't she left yet?

So she clung, she clung to the interactions, the conversation, allowing it to flow, to let the commentary continue, but this time . . . Valan offered a gift she hadn't given in such a long time. She offered her name. Her real name. Not the nickname she had used for so long. Saying those old words, a house, a family name forgotten to time, her own name not remembered in history except as an unfortunate victim to a tyrants desire for a crown. Forgotten, just as she; herself, so often was. And like this conversation, like this continued interaction, she gifted it to Thomasin, praying the little mare wouldn't cast the gift aside. She repeats that old name, and Valan's ears perk, listening to the way it fell from the other's lips. Had her name always sounded that . . . that enticing, unforgettable, delectable? Or was it that it came from the mouth of a lamb?

The curtsy was just as much about culture as it was about distracting herself from the way Thomasin had said her name - or she may beg her to say it again. And then the little mare said a title Valan hadn't heard in so, so long, and her head jolts up so quickly, all grace is lost in the extremely mortal motion, her eyes wide, shocked. She watched the other bend, but Thomasin's eyes never leave Valan, her expression soft, that playful whisper and Valan finds herself responding in kind, "I did marry a king, if only for a night; perhaps you should try 'Your Majesty."" Her tone was painful, but there was a brief flash of anger, pain, hatred at the mention of her marriage. Proof of how troubling that entire situation had been. The pain of losing her beloved gardener, her sweetest Rafie had yet to fully leave her.

So she clung onto everything Thomasin offered to allow her mind to keep moving, to not ponder, to not regret. And it was so easy to let herself get lost when those pale grey eyes, like the calming of a storm; met her own pale gaze. It made her ponder what Thomasin saw, what she was looking for. If she knew what to look for. Pale rose eyes compared to when her eyes grew darker, a deep magenta, or when they turned black with rage or hunger. And then she offered the sweetest of boons to the ageless being, and the vampire was eager to clasp the offering close to her chest. Thomasin was willing to keep her company. But the offer of as long as she would have her had a wayward pausing thought of how long could she keep her.

She shook such foolish thoughts away. Friends were made gently, not by possession. And she certainly had no right trying to take possession of the little mare who deserved so much more. So, she let herself be distracted by the question posed, and Valan grew thoughtful, even as she gently lowered herself to the ground, limbs folding beneath her, wild curls spreading across the ground, and a slight smile touching her face, warming the shadows from her eyes. She turns that bright, pure expression to Thomasin, "Life." She admits, "Or I do . . . When I dream, it's my memories. Going back in time, to my youth. Running around the gardens with Rafie as we avoided our parents and guardians." She sighed softly, gently, her muzzle reaching down to gently nuzzle her roses again, "I miss those gardens. They were burnt the night I died . . . or, almost died? I'm still not sure how to classify the situation." Her gaze softens, a melancholy expression at the memory as she breaths in the soft scent of those roses clinging to her pelt, "Rosario, I believe, is the last bit left of that garden." She added gently, her gaze on the dormant and unresponsive rose vines before looking back up at Thomasin, and adding, "Mis-, Er, I apologize; old habits; Thomasin . . . please, feel free to ask me anything. Provided, I may ask questions about yourself in return."

Her gaze was curious, turning towards the little mare, even as she kept her gaze soft, gentle; reassuring, "Might I enquire about . . . the garden in your chest? I've just . . . never heard of such a situation before." And she wanted to know why, what should be an open wound, did not entice her hunger, but instead enticed her curiosity.

@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

In her youth, Thomasin was not allowed to play with the children on the streets, or attend large gatherings at the capital. Occasionally, she was permitted to travel with her father in the very early hours of the morning, when most of Denocte had settled into sleep after their wild night-life festivities, and pray at the very altar she stood before. Otherwise, she prayed at home, helped her mother tend to the gardens and practiced cooking; she became domestic quickly. Instead of learning about the world and how all the people worked, instead of learning history outside of her religion, practicing trades, or making friends, she was told to be quiet, only sing when worshipping, and spend her free time painting or counting the stars. It was lonely, but more importantly, Thomasin missed out on important social skills. 

Because of this sheltered upbringing, the lamb wasn’t exactly the most adept when it came to conversations. She certainly wasn’t dimwitted. But the only way she learned about the vastly different types of personalities that the world harbored was from reading. Granted, Thomasin was forbidden to read anything outside of proper etiquette prompts or simple religious stories. And even though she truly titled herself as devout and a lady of faith, she craved excitement, she lusted after something out of the ordinary. And so, the little filly would stay up late, sneak out her room, hastily tip-toe to the herb fields, and read her mother’s stolen romance books. They were full of depth; well-fleshed out characters such as princesses, and knights, and dragons – lore and love that was dramatic and frightening. It filled her cup. These secret novels, where lovers would kiss in dark and slay monsters in the name of friendship, these fictional characters were the only friends Thomasin really had. 

She was really trying to make friends. Giving it her all her gumption – she had been offering samples of baked goods to citizens and children, attempting to join in choir for group worship. But navigating real relationships was much harder than she imagined it to be. 

The vampiress spoke a sad symphony of words, and in the dim candlelight, Thomasin could see that whatever stories of love Valan held within her were not ones with happy endings. In respect, she remained quiet. Besides, she only liked stories with happy endings – certainly not tragic.

But Valan had retorted with the fact that it should be ‘your majesty’. It seemed like Thomasin had offended her, even though it was unintended; in fact she was trying her best to lift Valan’s spirits – yet she was unaware she was digging into an invisible wound. Simultaneously, hearing the news that Valan was married created a small, invisible wound that Thomasin could call her own. It was alien to her, and she suddenly felt misplaced. Should she apologize? Should she really be addressing her as a queen? The silence was deafening, but inside Thomasin’s mind, she was racking for the proper answer so that she could still have a chance of gaining friendship. 

Her unrefined emotions would always get the better of her. She swallowed hard – if she could have swallowed her own tongue she would have. “Is that how you wish to be addressed, Valan?” Her brow knitted in confusion, slightly taken aback as it was in her nature to take everything so personally. 

Yet, the lady – this queen of the night – carefully gathered herself and laid down. In that moment, this dusty mare had forgotten about her feelings and followed effortlessly. Perhaps she was bewitched. She didn’t second guess the creatures movements, simply lowered her own slender body to the cold floor, crossed her dainty legs, and swayed the mass of hair at the tip of her tail closer to her frame so that she might cuddle in it like a blanket. With thirsty eyes and anxious ears, she listened to the stories Valan had to tell. Her piebald lashes fluttered at the mention of running through the gardens with another, a genuine smile gracing her mouth, only to eclipse into a small pout, and eventually a grimace as Valan continued. 

This was a story that didn’t have a happy ending.

Sympathetic tears rimmed her eyes, expressing her sorrow at a volume barely above a whisper, “Valantine, I am so sorry.” She was quick to dispel her weariness and followed up with, “I find it charming you’ve named your flower.”

As the tables turned, it was now Thomasin in the spotlight as she was asked about her condition. She grew hot under her skin, a sort of cold sweat beginning to dew on her toffee pelt. “Oh.”

She cleared her throat. “It’s really nothing, I’m just sick, you see.” Thomasin has never been sick, but when your parents treated you like blossoms were cancer for the entirety of her short life, she knew no different. “It’s just a condition. I apologize if it repulses you.” With a nervous nod of her head, she dismissed it swiftly in embarrassment. Her fear of rejection was beginning to bubble to the surface. She felt so unsightly when asked about it. Was it repulsion, or hunger? She was reminded that a creature like Valan might, at any moment in time, change her tactics and aim her gaping mouth at the displayed organ to quench her hunger. The lump in her throat grew, but determined to save this conversation, she ignored it. 

“Where is your home now? I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you in Denocte – I’m sure I would have remembered a face like yours had I seen it in passing.” Leering shyly, she returned her gaze to winter flame. 



---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"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?

Valan felt like she was wading through a pool of chilled water. Ice cubs brushed like searing heat against her limbs, and threatened to freeze her still. One wrong step would send her beneath the ice, and it would converge into a singular mass, trapping her in a suspended state beneath the chilled top. A trapped rose seeing the world through the sheer icey barrier. Held beneath the waves and unable to move. Talking with Thomasin felt like she was finally learning to tread water. But one wrong move could send her crashing back down the the freezing sea floor, unreachable in an instant. Her life had been a beautiful story when it started. Her life now was a tragedy that continued to write itself, even after others had stopped subscribing for the updates.

She tries to joke but she can see immediately that it falls flat. Too much of her own self-hatred had entered her words, pain at the memory of what her final moments at a mortal had been like. For a moment she could feel the flames licking at her skin, smell the smoke condensing around her like a cloak of death. And then she sees Thomasin's reaction to her attempt at play, and she feels her heart shatter at the expression decorating the little fawn's features. Her words, however; those confused words asking how she wished to be addressed. Valan is feverishly shaking her head before she can stop herself, her eyes wide, begging, imploring,  "Oh, no, please Thomasin, never address me in such formal matters. I'd be heartbroken, if you should." Her muzzle dips into a soft smile, but it's tainted with a sudden fear that she was ruining this chance of friendship, unaware that Thomasin shared those same worries,  "Besides, by all technicalities, I am but a mere widow, so just my name, please; Thomasin. It's . . . it's how friends address each other, is it not?" There is a fragility introduced to her tone, shy and uncertain; having almost forgotten over the hundreds of years how friends converse.

She knew how she spoke with Rafie all those many, many years ago. Before he died, before she became an undead . . . but that was an entirely different situation than the one she was in now. It had been easy as a little filly to make friends with the quite, abandoned little colt who had showed up in her gardens overnight. Now, as an adult, she's not sure if she remembers how. How to make friends, how to encourage those connections. Especially with a mortal. Prey and Predator. It only happened in storybooks, when that divide could be smudged, and something more could come from it. Was she foolish hoping to write her own fantasy tale, to try for a new happy ending when every time previously; those happy endings had crashed and burned.

She lays down on the ground, and that cool temperature of the cobbled stone seemed to settle her thoughts just a little. It was a moment that permitted her to ground herself, least her own fears obscure her desires once more. Her gaze lifts as Thomasin lowers as well, and Valan can't help but watch the graceful movements, the way those dainty legs crossed so elegantly, the way her tail whipped like a lion, but with so much more hair. How could Thomasin not see her own glory . . . in a moment like this, Valan couldn't deny that there was a certain elegance, a certain wildness to Thomasin as well. 

Valan distracts herself from such thoughts with stories of her dreams. The memory of those gardens were the only bright point to many of those dreams. They always turned to ash and brimstone eventually. The soft whisper brought her attention up, meeting those soft pale eyes, like spun silver, priceless and precious, and filled with such sorrow and sympathy. Valan ducks her head shyly at the voiced sympathy, before blinking at the admission of naming her flower. Valan paused, glancing at the dormant flower that slept to regain energy. She could feel the tugging of awareness slowly coming back. Acknowledgment that her bonded was almost recharged after caring for her health solely for the last few hundred years, "Rosario . . . is special." She admits, and she suddenly feels a shyness, knowing that not many would be able to comprehend that her bonded, once he rejoined her in his own unlife; wasn't traditional,  "Once he is no longer dormant, I'll introduce you proper." She adds casually, but there is a playful smile to her muzzle, a mischievous look to her eyes as she winks in silent confirmation of a secret the little flower held.

She may not have a garden growing from her chest, but when Rosario was once more awake, aware; she had a plant she spoke to. It brought a moment of pondering if perhaps she was not so different to Thomasin as she had first assumed. Perhaps they had more in common, more alike than they might have originally considered. There was a moment of delight at the thought, before she had asked Thomasin about her garden she carried with her. Instantly, the pale maiden wanted to take the question back. She wanted to apologize, to sooth and promise she won't ask again. But instead she lets Thomasin talk.

She sees the discomfort, but it's a rare moment of selfishness that keeps her muzzle shut, allowing Thomasin to speak rather than telling her not to worry about it. She wants to know more about the little fawn just starting to grow antlers to defend herself with. She wanted to know more about the one who would shed tears for a monster. Who could assure to her that a goddess could love a disaster like she. She was not expecting Thomasin to claim she was sick. Valan tilted her head, her expression betraying her confusion. Thomasin didn't necessarily smell of sickness. She carried the scent of her garden, certainly - but not sickness. She calls it a condition, before apologizing if it repulsed her.

Valan's eyes went wide instantly, as she shakes her head quickly, this time she doesn't hesitate, her muzzle crossing the difference between them. She moves slowly, however, to not startle the little lamb, reaching out to touch one of those dainty, delicate limbs. It's a soft touch, meant to reassure, to provide comfort, confidence;  "It does not repulse me." She promises, her words spoken softly, gently.  "I find it remarkable . . . to carry a garden with you where ever you wish to go. You're . . . remarkable, Thomasin." For more than just the garden, even.

Ever time she thought she had Thomasin figured out, every time she thought she knew what the little lamb would do, Thomasin never failed to surprise her. In Valan's eyes, there was nothing repulsive about the little mare. She was simply amazing. She might not see it, but Valan did. And Valan silently made a promise to herself, she would do all she could to let Thomasin see it one day as well. The next twist to the conversational path was on safer ground, and Valan smiles at the correct assumption before she was surprised once more. Remember a face like hers? In a sudden, rare moment, Valan found herself embarrassed, ducking her head as that shyness suddenly returned. She was used to compliments, knew her beauty - but . . . Thomasin would have remembered her? Few seemed to unless they got to know her. A pretty face, fleeting as a leaf in the breeze. Gone from one's thoughts as soon as she has disappeared from sight for a few moments. But . . . Thomasin would . . . remember her, just by a passing glance.

It must be a saying, a mere polite conversational piece. She shouldn't think too much into it. It likely didn't mean anything, she was reading into it too much. Who knew how conversations, how dictation, and communication had changed over the years.  "No, I am from Terrastella, I have been there for a while now. Watched it be built up, once upon a time. But, I am curious about the world now. Only just awakened, there is a lot to learn, a lot to see. And I'm eager to experience it all. Well, experience it at night." She shifts, as if she can feel the rays of the sun, can smell the scent of her hide starting to burn from the light,  "My health can become . . . at risk, if I'm touched by sunlight." She offers briefly. It's more than just an explanation, however. She isn't sure if Thomasin will be aware of the precious gift offered by those words, willingly presenting a weakness that could protect Thomasin from herself and others of her species. A weakness that could be exploited and lead to Valan's doom.

She pauses briefly, before adding, "Of course, the world always seems much prettier in the sunlight. It's just unfortunate I must be spirited away into the Manor before the sun fully rises." She's grateful for her age, which means that brief contact with the sun only causes sunburn like trauma to her skin. But she hid away during the day regardless, because while brief engagement may only amount to a sunburn, the longer the sun touched her skin, the worse the burn would become. She shakes these thoughts from her mind, turning back to Thomasin, and returns a question for a question,  "And yourself. Where do you reside?" Her smile turns soft, playful;  "Just in case I should ever wish to pay a new friend a visit."

And it's not just words to say, Valan knew she meant it. Knowing where to go to find Thomasin again, her first friend, her first mortal friend in so long. She just hoped Thomasin would permit the visit, would provide the locations for how, and where to find her. Would continue to allow the companionship between them to flourish. It was already becoming remarkably precious to Valan, precious enough for Valan to refuse to give up.

@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

Friend.
 
This kind encounter between two strangers, between the innocent and the damned, had turned into a night that Thomasin would not forget. The flames around them danced in harmony with the whisper of winter wind, and while a bit chilly, budding excitement kept Thomasin cozy.
 
The creature in front of her spoke of the rose that clung to her chest and how it was dormant. With a prolonged blink, the lamb kinked her head, befuddlement twisting her mouth into a pout. As quickly as it came, it was replaced with a soft smile. “I look forward to the day we can meet.” Was Valantine insinuating that she could speak to flowers? Thomasin couldn’t help but feel slight jealousy – she wished she could speak to flowers. She gave a wayward glance to the flora that poked through the fibers of her thick tail. 

I wish I could ask you why you chose to grow here.
 
With the slight distraction of her own self-loathing, she didn’t notice the slow and careful snaking of Valan’s head closer to her body. By the time she had turned her head back, it was too late. She touched her.
 
It was a snap of white lightening. All the hairs on Thomasin’s skin were standing on end as she stiffened into a petrified husk.
 
In this slice of time, she had forgotten that the pale one was a hunter, designed to kill her, crafted and suited with the tools to seduce and destroy. It would be so simple to understand why a fawn might freeze as a wolf sniffs them. Preserving your own life was important, if not instinct. But alas, Thomasin had become a statue not because she felt like her life was in danger, but because a beautiful, strange woman had touched her. And then followed with calling her remarkable.
 
The lamb could have sworn her eardrums imploded: deafness flooded her ability to correctly process the events that were unfolding in front of her. Friend, remarkable, and a gentle touch that left a warm sting upon her knee. She blinked once, twice, then looked down at the spot where the velvet muzzle had made contact with her skin, wondering why Valan was lingering – only to realize that she had already withdrawn herself. The heat of her touch stayed long after she pulled away. Her heart danced catastrophically in her chest, creating a softened cadence against the mossy membranes and fragile roots that held it in place.
 
A thousand sentiments bounced in her head. A part of her wanted to brush off the compliment, argue with it, because it was something so difficult to accept. She used to get into heated debates with her father whenever he would shower her with affection. Her mother chastised her every single time. Accept it, don’t dwell, move on.
 
I don’t believe you.
 
“Thank you.”
 
The dazzle of Valan’s touch would eventually subside, and Thomasin would be able to decipher herself more clearly. “I have never been to Terrastella, though I’ve heard stories about their medical practices.” Thomasin hadn’t indulged in the histories or cultures of the other Kingdoms, she wouldn’t be able to tell you their patriarchy structures – or matriarchy, like the one she was currently in. But she did know that Terrastella had a hospital that was well guarded and protected; her father once traveled to the swamps in order to seek knowledge on her condition. But when he was turned away, he had come home angry at the Terrastellians, speaking to his wife that they didn’t actually know as much as they gloated about, upset that they were insisting that Thomasin was just fine.
 
The familiar smile would touch her own mouth, but eventually blossom into a heart-warming grin. She spoke playfully, “You live in a manor? I’d expect no less for a lady.”
 
At the mention of the sun, Thomasin instinctively turned her face towards the entrance, relieved to see that the sun had yet to break the horizon. The harbinger dawn was still out of sight, but she knew that time was not going to be on their side. There would not be enough minutes to fully indulge herself in the pleasure of learning more about the vampiress. And it vibrated her to the core when the pale one teased at visiting.

Thomasin was quick to respond. “You wish to visit me? I’m currently housed in a small brick cottage at the foot of the mountains – the Arma mountains. It’s humble, but it’s home. You’ll know its mine because the roof is completely covered with moss, if not snow.” She giggled quietly. “I’ve never been outside of Denocte, but perhaps with a willing friend, I might be given a tour of Terrastella?” The vulnerability in her pitch matched the other’s. “Either way, it would please me to see you again.” 


In her gleeful naivety, she followed with, “If you host, I’ll be sure to bring dessert.”
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"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?

It was like a calling to stay close. To continue to get to know the little dove of a mare she’d stumbled across. She was soft, gentle, pure. Everything Valan wanted to be, everything Valan wasn’t. And yet, it was necessarily envy that kept her close. She couldn’t bring herself to truly envy such a gentle, such a soft creature, whose wide doe eyes could still her thoughts without effort. Whatever it was about Thomasin, Valan couldn’t imagine ending this meeting early.

The interactions hadn’t been easy to begin with, but as time grew, it settled into a comfortable companionship. A relaxation Valan hadn’t been able to experience with a mortal in such a very long time. Every little thing about Thomasin kept her firmly rooted to these hallowed halls, eager to learn more about her, to learn why she carried so much weight on her shoulders. Why she couldn’t see how beautiful she was, an elegant doe with all the regal grace at her disposal. Did Thomasin really not realize how extraordinary she was? And she thought Valan was the stately one. Valan was a product of a cursed life, a half-life. Thomasin was the breath of fresh air after a torrential downpour. Refreshing, and invigorating. Valan was only capable of destruction.

Would her presence lead to destruction for Thomasin as well? She was but a monster, a demon stealing the precious time of an angel. A cruel creature of darkness trying to bask in the light of a being who radiated with purity. And yet, her ears couldn’t help pitch forward, catching every soft whisper from the maw of the earthen goddess, who wore a garden in her chest. Valan smiled softly at the tilt to Thomasin’s head, the pout stealing a giggle from the vampiress’s pink lips, "It shall be the first thing I do upon his reawakening.” She promised. And then she noticed the glance, the look towards the hole in the chest of the lamb.

There was one avenue of concern that her mind couldn’t help but follow. Not only was Thomasin unaware of her own prowess . . . but she seemed too loath the very things Valan couldn’t help but be in awe of. It was a silent thought, as the vampire moved too slowly; a silent acknowledgement that she wanted to help Thomasin see her own worth. She surely was worth much more than Valan.

She wasn’t expecting the reaction to her touch though, even if she should of known. Of course Thomasin wouldn’t welcome it. She was a monster, a demon, murderer, hunter, killer. Valan was quick to withdraw, if only to reassure the damsel she was in no danger from the vampires. Had Valan known the real reason Thomasin had frozen, perhaps she would have lingered. But just as Thomasin had her own issues with worth, so did Valan. And Valan still couldn’t see past the fangs and blood-thirsty eyes.

It didn’t stop her in her goals of letting the angel see what she was worth – calling her remarkable, as it was the only truth in Valan’s eyes. Thomasin seemed to blink, looking down at where Valan had touched, and the vampire felt the need to apologize, to promise not to distress her again, to not reach out where her touch was unwelcome, "I . . . sorry, I was only wishing to obtain your attention, to reassure. I . . . didn’t mean to cause you any distress Mi, er; Thomasin.” The vampire stated gently, her gaze sweeping to the floor between them, ears pinning back as if waiting for the barrage of disgust. How long could she truly keep the company of a creature of purity, before she’d be inevitably swept back into the darkness and forgot. Perhaps, just a few minutes more. For some foolish reason, the idea of bidding Thomasin fair well, to never see her again was such an obscure thought.

It was only then that she remembered that the little lamb had thanked her, before she’d felt the need to apologize, but by now the conversation was flowing again, and Valan tilted her head at the comment of the medicinal practices of Terrastella. The kingdom had only just began specializing when she’d turned in for a long period of rest. "You’ll have to forgive me, I’m afraid I’m not too familiar with what any of the courts currently specialize in. Everything was only really setting off prior to my rest.” The vampire admitted quietly, before smiling at the playful tone, her gaze softening when that grin touched Thomasin’s muzzle, when it was directed towards her. "Oh, I cannot take claim of it. It’s my master’s home. He likes pretty things, I’m certain it’s why he keeps me around. I’ll have to be careful he never catches sight of you, least he steals you away as well.” The ghostly mare stated with a playful smile.
As Thomasin turned to take in the time of night, Valan couldn’t help but laugh, the sound sweeping around them like the merry clinging of bells, "Oh, fret not, dear Thomasin. I try to keep a close eye upon the time. I am sure you can imagine, but I’m not too fond of being caught out when the sun starts its climb to the zenith.” Of course, no matter how much she enjoyed the time together thus far, every night would have to end, and perhaps earlier than she may prefer, as most mortals tend to sleep at night.

The thought spurred a touch of concern, immediately looking towards Thomasin, "Oh, I’m being fairly inconsiderate, keeping your attention as I am. Are you certain you are alright keeping me company this late into the night. Surely you will need your sleep, will you not?” The knowledge of where to find the mare was a gift Valan would hold to her heart – a small brick cottage, at the base of the mountains. She, however; was not expecting the returned response of a tour of Terrastella. Valan’s eyes lit up, her entire face transforming into a look of pure delight at the thought. Someone would be willing to come and visit her, to spend time with her? "I would be delighted to host you any time you wish to visit, Thomasin. My master’s manor is on the outskirts of the Dusk Court capital. It’s the only manor in the outskirts, so it shan’t be hard to miss, as we prefer our privacy and do not wish to be among the elite in the ‘obnoxiously rich district’ as my Master calls it.” The vampire shares.

Her gaze softens then, smiling gently, "I do swear, should you ever approach the manor, I shall gladly host you for as long as you wish to stay. And upon my honor, no harm shall come to you while you are visiting my home.” Her gaze briefly turns more serious, a determination to assure the doe-like creature of her safety, "I’ll be certain the others know, you’re not the dessert.” After all, she wasn’t the only vampire who lived there.
@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

Like a distraught and wayward balloon, Thomasin could feel herself expand with the growing dilemma of her emotions; does she tell the winter flame that she wasn’t distressed – frustrated might have been an appropriate and interchangeable word, but maybe starved would have been ideal. Touch starved. She flamed at the thought of this new friend finding out the delusions she was constructed in her head. When Valan apologized, her ears thrown back as if waiting for a scolding, Thomasin just grew redder.

Did she tell Valan that for just a fleeting moment she had daydreams of sharing hair secrets and long walks in gardens untouched by time? How they would name the flora together? How would she tell her that? How do you say you have already made plans for moonlit beach picnics, or visits on rainy days when the fireplace was warm and the company even warmer? What of the wildflower crowns she wished to braid with her, would they wait?  Could Valan teach her the delicate way she ties her bows, guide her in how a lady demands all eyes when she enters a room, know the lessons of womanhood and help her settle into these aching bones? 

Thomasin took a deep breath, though surprised she hadn’t already burst from the anticipation, and she looked at Valan with the intention of sharing how she was simply caught off guard, how she was just honestly desperate for the promises of her company. But the words were trapped in her throat, and instead she strained, an unintelligible wince as instead she stared at her. The firelight painted each burgundy curl with a subtle orange glow; the shadows created shapes that followed the ebb and flow of the vampire’s body, licking the cracks in her marble skin. They looked like sunlight that threatened to break through the walls that dared to contain it.

She hurt to look at.

The gingerbread mare felt her shoulders slump, knowing how foolish she must have looked, and her line of sight fell to the floor as the heat in her youthful cheeks dissipated. “Of course. No apology needed. I was reassured, so thank you.”

Valan was a lady.

Thomasin just a line without a hook.

And the dusty lamb would need to learn how to control her desperation for a companion, for a true friend. For now, she would take each whimsical fantasy in her mind and fold them away, like heirloom linens, saving these wishes for a lonely day. 

As if clockwork, her wet eyes were beginning to haze with the promise of sleep. Her eyelids were a little heavier, mottled lashes quivering with each prolonged blink. She nodded in encouragement, a soft smile of contentment playing on her rosy lips. She would listen with her full attention; a giggle at mention of politics and sleeping, a playful yet hidden eye-roll at the mention of being whisked away as if part of a doll collection.

I’d keep you around too.

Her spirits lifted with the silver sound of Valan's laughter, and then her brow furrowed at the mention of the estate, wondering if she had any garments that might suit an invitation to a manor. Surely, she’d find something at the night markets. She briefly wondered about the other vampires that keep Valan’s company: were they just as friendly? She silently gulped. Maybe doing some reading would help her prepare for dinner with a keep full of vampires. She hadn’t thought about how she might be the most appetizing thing at the table. She chose not to dwell on it, lest her fear suddenly multiply and spread through her body and convince her to stay away from the moon lady.

If there was a will there was way, and Thomasin would study how to appease to these creatures’ better natures. 

“It is growing late,” she mused to herself, afraid to look at Valan, afraid to draw their first encounter to a close. But that was the beauty of budding friendship, was it not? Distance would make one grow fonder, and it certainly wouldn’t be their only encounter. A yawn split open the dryad’s head, where a perfectly pink tongue would show, and sleepy tears rimmed her eyes. She blinked at Valan, before quietly giggling at her timing.

“I wish to see you soon, friend”, she drawled as her knobby knees straightened and lifted her onto the delicate stilts of her legs. Her body turned towards the direction of the exit, weary with the impending journey home, but her face was still fixated on the pale one. A tender simper, her sauce-pan ears awaiting to cup her parting words.

“I won’t forget you Valantine – the gentle vampire.”

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"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?

They say it takes time to learn the moods and switches of someone new, just as it takes time to be able to understand the way someone things, the way the live, and experience life. Valan was well aware she didn't know Thomasin enough, at all. Not yet, I'll just have to strive too. Purely because one should know their friends well, that was all. She was determined to know everything that went own inside the lovely doe's head. All of her thoughts, her secrets, her hopes and dreams. She wanted to know the Thomasin beyond the quiet mare. Her favorite food, and color, and hobby. What made her cry, and laugh, and love.

Despite their time together thus far, there was still just too much she didn't know. Thomasin may no longer be a stranger, but Valan wouldn't stop here. She yearned for more. But the little lamb was delicate, a gentle spirit who couldn't be pressed too far, couldn't be rushed. And Valan thought it would be time well-spent to nurture this friendship, to watch it grow.

She watched those delicate shoulders slump, those sterling eyes fall, and Valan found herself yearning to reach out again, to draw those lovely eyes back up, to see this bud open up and flower into the prettiest blossom in all of Novus "Thomasin . . ." She whispers the lamb's name like a prayer, the most perfect word she could ever know. "I may not know what thoughts run through your mind, but your body language speaks volumes, darling." The endearment slips free of her maw without concern, too focused on wanting to see this mare look less like she's trying to hide within herself, "Our friendship may still be new, but I do not like seeing you look so reserved. Please, Thomasin, do not hide yourself from me." Valan lowered her own head in an attempt to catch those soft moonshine eyes, her own pale gaze reassuring, "I want to know you, Thomasin. All of you. Every thought, wish, desire, dream, favorite things, and what draws your smile. But I will be patient, waiting until you offer these things one by one, freely and on your terms. So please, do not hide from me - You shall never do anything that warrants such behaviors."

She didn't know if Thomasin would believe her, but she didn't hesitate to admit it, feeling no shame for being so forthright. It was all in the name of friendship, right? But she did see the little flower starting to drop, eyes growing hooded, before finally agreeing upon the late hour. A pang shot through Valan's still heart at the thought of farewell, and this time she could almost think she may understand. And then Thomasin yawned, and Valan couldn't help but laugh fondly.

As Thomasin rose to her feet, so did Valan, who couldn't stop the smile at her words, as Thomasin turned to the exit, "And you shall." Valan's hooves carried her forward at the other's final words, and in a moment of boldness, she briefly brushed her cheek against Thomasin's, the gentlest of nuzzles, "Of course you won't, little flower. This is merely farewell until next time, not goodbye. You'll have to visit me soon, darling, or I'll miss you too dearly and will have to come to steal you away for a few hours." The vampire stated, winking gently, before she kicked up her heels and let herself disappear into the night -Staying in the shadows of Denocte only long enough to ensure Thomasin would make it home safely before returning to Terrastella.

@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