i feel like the flowers in this vase,
he just bought 'em home one day,
"Ain't they beautiful" he said
Why was she here?
It wasn't her normal scene, but she'd wanted a change of scenary. A fresh breath of air. New sights to see, new people to meet. A festival felt right. But it also made her feel . . . odd. All around her others were laughing, talking, giggling over the effects of drinks being served. It was merry, it was vibrant. The fae in her was delighted by the careless laughter and fun out and about. But the Caelum she'd become, so refined, reserved, regal, didn't remember how to let lose like that. So instead she stood by the doors, a sheer shawl wrapped around her shoulders, embroidered with lace flowers. Ribbons were strung up in her long ivory mane and tail, gleaming through the locks in a silver, glittering shine, that sparkled like diamonds under the lighting, when it caught it just right. But the flowers that bloomed in her mane, occasionally shedding soft, pale pink petals, where based entirely off of her magic feeding of her anxiety.
She was a queen, technically.
So why did she want to hide. Briefly she wish that Israfel and Lu were there. That their own vibrancy together could lead her away from the shell she wanted to retreat into. Perhaps bring her back to life enough to let lose and have fun. Or Syn to be there to feed her drink after drink, tempting her to unbury the fae that wanted to dance among the crowd. Or Vikander, handsome Vikander who would see the paralyzing discomfort, recognize it. She almost could imagine him taking sympathy to lead her to a quiet corner. Perhaps they'd get to talking, learn more about each other . . . . She snorted, chasing that wistful thought away with a shake of her head.
No, she was a queen, she could do this.
No need to remember she was the queen of a ruined, dead kingdom. The fae fluttered through the air, careful not to touch the ground, knowing if she did, she'd leave flowers all about this floor, and had no desire to be kicked out for what she couldn't control. Flowers that bloomed with each footstep, ready to defend the Lady Fae of the Summer Courts. Instead she hovered just so, her wings dimly fluttering, flimsy and delicate, as they shed a small layer of iridescent fairy dust as she moved through the crowds. Those touched by the dusting would feel their own energies rejuvenating, those ready for a break from dancing suddenly ready to go for another few songs.
Her magic was always a healing touch.
She paid them little mind, heading to the tables heavy with treats and drinks. She took a chilled glass of what looked like some sort of shimmering wine. Taking a cautious sip, she coughed at the unexpected candy-like flavored, immediately worried she'd partaken of sugar, only to realize it was a type of sweet, sweet berry. She took another sip, slowly letting herself lower to the ground, only to find her hooves wouldn't touch the floor, the drinking forcing her to hover a few inches off the ground. A briefly amused smile crossed her muzzle, lighting up her chocolate eyes, as she finished the drink and handed the empty glass off to a staff. Grabbing a small plate of little sandwiches and fruit, she found a quiet place to stand, or rather hover, next to one of the pillars in the room, content to watch the others having fun, occasionally dipping her head in polite greeting, smiling gently at those who greeted her with familiarity.
Still, she couldn't help but just feel . . . lonely.
There is a grand celebration sweeping across Solterra like great tides of culture. A festival of the sun which has so many bodies gathered within the gates of the palace of the Sun. Caterers are strewn along the walls, just out of reach of the dancing and swaying bodies who are enjoying the music. Magic is alive and thriving here. His gravity is playing with the magic of others. Sebastien peers at the doorway, he is bored until she arrives. The scholar has only heard tales of the ethereal creatures known as fairies, or pixies in books. She catches his attention in very much the same way that Meira did. The dust that spills from her wings, and the flowers that pour petals upon the stone floor. He observers her casually from his peripherals, nibbling on a sandwich he grabbed before she arrived. There is a hunger to possess her, and it is overwhelming. The scent of her flowers floods his nares, not unlike the tides of excitements settling over the Sun Court.
Sebastien waits to see what she decides to do before he makes his move. He is readying his magic, willing all his attention to focus keenly on this stranger. He is curious to see that she hovers at the edge of the festival rather than taking part in the mirth. This is his chance to swoop in and entertain her. If he can just get her within his gravity long enough, perhaps he can ensnare her in his life. Sebastien is already wondering how exactly he can break her down already. He has been hunting for so long that he has forgotten what victory tastes like. Destruction, victory, and entropy always taste the same. The dark man approaches the fae with a warm smile on his face. The waves of his magic radiate out from him, reaching for her. It wants to pull her in close. It invites her to take an interest in him, almost the same kind that he has in her.
Rarely did others have malicious intent in the same way that he does. Yet he has not been found out. He wonders if anyone believes Meira as the first words leave his lips. He is about to repeat history. "Hello there." Sebastien greets her with a warm smile. His charm seeps out of him, and it is almost enough to fool anyone that he is genuine in his attempts at conversation. "Forgive my forwardness, but are you a Fae? I'm a scholar from Denocte... with a special interest in Fae. My name is Sebastien." The words fall from his lips almost identical to those he spoke to Meira, except that she was a Kelpie back then.
@Caelum sorry for the wait!! He is using his magic and how it affects her (if it does) is totally up to you c: usually it just makes others friendlier towards him.. more agreeable etc..
i feel like the flowers in this vase,
he just bought 'em home one day,
"Ain't they beautiful" he said
There was so much life in this place.
It seemed to breathe with its vibrancy. A bright glow that made the fae want to run for the hills, to hide back in Denocte, in the little slice of heaven she'd created for herself at her small teashop. She felt the need to slink away, to hide, to pretend she was safe, fine, securely alone delicately, and in the comfortable calm she had allowed herself to find quiet peace in. Instead, she was here, at this festival, feeling lost in a celebration that held the same energy as her own people. No, she wasn't lost or out of sort here. If she was honest, it made her mournful. It made her miss the way the fae were. It reminded her that her courts lay in ruin, the remaining summer fae trapped behind the safety of the winter court's barrier. It reminded her she was still hiding from accepting the magic that would bless her with the touch of Summer.
Her father once told her Summer required a champion.
A ruler. Someone to take charge. He'd told her as a little filly that he held the grasp of Summer in his hands, that he ruled it as King because Summer needed someone to take the reign. And one day, she'd embrace that same hold over Summer, rule over her as Queen, and when she did, she'd be like him. The champion, the Lady, is the embodiment of Summer. It was only natural for the leader of the summer court to be Summer itself, no? Caelum didn't want to imagine taking over what had been her father's. Did she even deserve it? Did she deserve any of the happiness she'd graced herself with?
She knew it was just the nerves trying to convince her.
Lu made it clear she deserved happiness too, was helping her see that with each day she passed. So, she forced herself to breathe, and she walked quietly into the room. It was odd, being in the Court of the sun. A part of her wonders, if she hadn't buried her most refined version of herself so long ago, would this have been the Court she'd chased, rather than taking residence in her beloved Denocte? The energies mirrored some of the purest forms of the Summer Fae, after all. And yet, she found comforts in the quiet, secretive nature of the Night. When had she become so much more like a Winter Fae? A brief smile flitted across her features at the thought, quietly finding a place to relax, to watch the interactions.
It's a ping of awareness.
An old effect from being in the spotlight so long ago, an instinctual awareness to when she had attention on her, so she knew when to present the perfect fae princess. She was being watched. She paused in her nibbling on fruit, her chocolate gaze sweeping the area to see whom it might be that was watching. Her eye finally stops on a dark form approaching her. Dark, but not quite dark enough to be the tall, dark and mysterious stallion she'd prefer to see parting the crowd for her. But she couldn't quite imagine Vikander in this crowd. His warm smile reassures her of his approach, and before the fae's own instincts can warn her of a shark's approach, it's smothered by the reassuring touch of his own magic.
It's a magic that seems eager to ensnare her.
But it is so foreign, so delicate, the fae isn't aware of it enclosing around her. Instead, she tilts her head with curiosity, quietly meeting his gaze with a cautious, small smile of her own. It's a guarded smile but a perfect, delicate one. A trained one. One meant for meeting a stranger within the courts, the castle she'd grown up in. His greeting is met with one of her own, tilting her head as ivory locks tumble in loose curls down the side of her face, the wild and chaotic waves at odds with her gentile outer appearance. Her regal stance. A perfect, delicate lady. "Hello." She replies, unaware as she lets that charm encourage her to trust him.
His following words have her feeling a touch of surprise.
A scholar from Denocte? Her smile turns a touch playful, and a rare spark lights up her eyes, warming them to a soft, enticing caramel hot chocolate hue, "A special interest in fae can be a perilous thing to have. One should be cautious of such . . . impish beings, you know. But yes, I am a fae. I am . . ." She pauses, hesitating, before visibly changing what she was about to say, "I am a member of the Summer Court." Still true, no need to let others know the Queen of Summer lives in Novus, in Denocte, "But, I am also medic of Denocte; so I suppose it must be a small world." She mused with a small smile.
A tiny world, yet she's surprised she'd not met him before.
As he introduces himself, the name doesn't ring any bells like she expected it to. She's built up quite the name for herself in Denocte. Owner of what was becoming a trendy tea shop. The best friend of Luvena, the mare courting the Queen of Denocte. A regular visitor to the Citadel. An extremely talented medic who was beginning to make all kinds of advancements in the manner of which to take medicine easier. She was curious if he would recognize her name, as she introduced herself, her words remaining polite, regal, elegant; "My name is Caelum, it's lovely to meet you Sebastien.."
How wrong she was if she had only known what he was really like.
But his charms were ensnaring her even as she stood conversing, her body language visibly showing a sense of relaxing in his presence. She turns to look at him more fully, directly; her gaze curious, "What brings you to the festival?" She asks, to keep a light conversation going, her wings fluttering a few times, dust shedding off; before they tucked themselves against her back, laying delicate and flat over the gossamer shawl she wore. Suppose that dust was to touch the mysterious stallion. In that case, he'd have a chance to feel its properties, the way it can revive the dropping f energy levels, soothe minor aches or pain, and any similar minor healing effects - should he need them.
Like the flowers that shed petals from her mane, it didn't turn off either.
But she kept much of herself, her identity, locked behind her kind, small smile. Secrets that remained quietly held at bay at the time, not yet trusting him for her mouth to run freely, remember to protect herself regardless of the odd sense of trust blooming for the stallion. But the longer she was staying in his company, the more that parasitic magic of his was latching onto her, encouraging her to trust, to be moldable to him, his words, his actions. Encouraging the fae to be receptive to the stranger she would have usually been cautious with.
"Speech" Thoughts
@Sebastien Notes: I figured Caelum's had minimal experience with this kind of magic, and so it'd definitely have an effect she wouldn't be aware of, to watch for. And since it's about making others see him better, it's going to influence her to trust him xP Where that goes, we'll have to see - but I love this already, so so so much. Also, her eyes are very, very open for her emotions right now, so feel free to have him pick up on any of her emotional/body language cues. :P
they've been here in the kitchen and the water's turnin' grey.
they're sittin' in the vase but now they're dead.
dead flowers.
The fae finds him long before he arrives before her. He can see the wariness in her eyes at first, and then as his magic slithers around her and settles, it vanishes. Sebastien can tell that it at least has some effect on her, but she is not at the level where she is totally receptive to him. He watches as the dust spills from her frame and he notices the invigorating feeling it produces in him. The fae greets him and then warns him that his interests may bring peril. A charming smile crosses his lips as he peers at her. It is perfectly timed thanks to his magic. She confirms that she is indeed a fae, and at first she hesitates. Sebastien wonders what causes the hesitation, but he does not allow his curiosity to reflect. If anything he seems oblivious to the hesitation. As if he is interested in a simple, pleasant conversation alone. She tells him that she is a member of the summer court and a medic of Denocte. Sebastien visibly perks up as she mentions this fact. The bronc waits a few more moments for her because his magic guides him to remain quiet. It is how he navigates most conversations, his gravity is always there to assist him.
Then finally, she divulges her name. He wonders how aware she is of the danger she is in. How those words will haunt her at night when she thinks of him. Sebastien hopes that they will one day fill her with regret. None of these desires are clear on his face, instead, he appears simple to her. Interested in the conversation, and that he has no ulterior motives buried beneath. "It's lovely to meet you too, Caelum Medic of Denocte." He smiles as he speaks again. It is not predatory, not to her he hopes. "As for perilous interests... I've never really been someone shy to potential danger. Knowledge of dangerous things can be useful, especially if it means you know how to protect yourself and your loved ones from the danger." Sebastien answers her, and his words are only half-truths. Half-truths because he does not intend to use the knowledge for protection but for manipulation and suffering. "But I don't believe all Fae to be dangerous by nature... I have healthy respect let's say." He grins again, the charm of his magic flares momentarily and he feels a pang of weariness from it.
There is a pause between them, and then Caelum asks what brings him to the festival. Sebastien appears thoughtful for a few moments as he studies her. His gaze is warm and unassuming. He notes the fruits she has been nibbling on and the dust that continually falls from her frame. "While I might live in Denocte now, I am originally from Solterra. The festival brings me the nostalgia of my childhood. I'm a recent transplant in Denocte, I wanted to learn more about the world of Novus. I intend to learn in every court. What about you, Caelum?" He asks her and studies the way her bodice relaxes in his presence. He can see some hesitation still and so he does not press his luck. Not yet. Caelum needs to be lured into his gravity, and she needs to come to seek him out. That is the only way his magic will sink deeper and deeper into her.
"Would you maybe indulge a scholar? I can show you around Solterra if you'll tell me stories about your people. You're the first fae I've had the honor of meeting. I'd like to hear about your people from you rather than dusty pages in a library. First-hand experiences are vastly more important in my opinion. Books merely contain history, while living breathing individuals have lived it." It is easy to tell that he does indeed have a passion for knowledge. What is hidden below the surface is his motives. Sebastien is thankful he can easily lean into his very authentic interests.
@Caelum I'm also excited for this a;djf sorry for the wait <3
i feel like the flowers in this vase,
he just bought 'em home one day,
"Ain't they beautiful" he said
Perhaps, had Caelum been in a different place, a different mindset, she'd have been more aware of the dangers.
As it was, her inexperience was her own hindrance. Caelum was no stranger to magic. Her father had lived and breathed the essence of Summer. Caelum could kiss a plant back to life. But the enchantment that warped the mind - that wasn't something she was aware of. Sure, she knew of illusions, she knew of tricks and the likes, but the magic that Sebastien wove, ensnaring her with, was not in her vast knowledge base. It left her defenseless, utterly unaware of its first settled touch. The Fae doesn't lose all wariness, however.
Caelum has been a cautious being now, her trust in others dismal.
But those who knew her more deeply might have been surprised by how quickly she appeared to relax in this stranger's company. A settling she was not known for that could not be explained away by their shared patronage. She feels her wings flutter slightly, the nervous tick settling, even as she folds them down, flat against the gossamer of her shawl, iridescence against iridescence, even as she smiles in return to his charming expression. However, the fae queen could feel the slight warmth of the glowing ruby necklace against her chest. Despite the process of Novus's magical forces weaving into the gemstone, the spirit within was still too entrapped to warn the young Fae of her dangers. Tiana knew something was wrong, but the bonding between soul and equine hadn't manifested yet. Caelum would later recount how unfortunately unlucky she had been that day.
Instead, she foolishly takes part in conversing with the devil.
She mentions her court and her Court in Novus, watching him visibly perk, a slight smile of amusement at what she perceives to be honest and genial expressions. All the while, that gravitational pull of his magic is entwining her closer and closer, tangling up her thoughts, settling her doubts and fears before she can become aware of the effects of his charms. Each moment, it seems to settle heavier upon her, the weighted mantle of a magical compulsion on her behaviors.
She offers her name with little hesitation, and she laughs, the sound light, bright, full of the warmth of Summer she had yet to claim as her own birthright. As insightful as this stallion was, how long would it take for him to start picking apart what he was really conversing with. The magic of the drinks that had allowed her to float inches above the ground was waning. As her delicate hooves touched back onto the hall's flooring, flowers blossomed around her hooves, pushing through stone cracks to eagerly caress the Summer Queen's limbs. Her lack of disturbance at their arrival was proof of being a victim of his enchantments. Caelum had always done everything to ignore the flowers that bloomed in her trail, that clung to her in greetings to what would one day be the embodiment of Summer, should she only accept the titles.
He draws her attention as he speaks, her smile amused.
She tilts her head to one side, those ivory waves bouncing, exposing the star on her forehead, the speckling of where her roaned features faded into the pale blue of her neck, "Oh, knowledge of dangerous things can truly be useful, but Fae rarely share their secrets. We are rather selfish creatures after all. We like to keep what we obtain. We do not divulge." How ironic, considering whom she was talking to. Particularly when you consider that she did have similar means at her own disposal to do precisely as he was enticing. Fae music could ensnare the individual, forcing them to dance for eternity and never leave. A bite of food made from ingredients native to her realm would leave someone dependent on them, unable to eat mortal fairs.
How often had she playfully, and not seriously, tempted herself with doing the same to Vikander for a day?
After this fateful meeting, her determination to not accidentally ensnare others would only increase dramatically. "Oh, dear Sebastien, most Fae are dangerous by nature. We just obscure our intentions far better than most." There, for a moment, she was free of the enchantments, those brown eyes darkening, her muzzle twisting briefly into an expression far darker than might normally be seen upon her delicate features. It's a look borrowed from her truest love, from the demonic stallion who had been her everything. Who had taught her that it was okay to allow the darkness some control because balance made your place in the world. She wasn't just the Light of Summer anymore. She was something more.
Her features soon softened, the weight of his magic quickly settling over her once again.
She settled soon enough, tilting her head, her features softening, an elegant, delicate, and proper lady who looked at home among the courts. He explains that Solterra was where he was originally from, speaking of nostalgia from his childhood and wanting to learn everything about Novus and the courts. Then he asks about her. She turns her gaze to the celebrations around them, and for a moment, a flicker of mournful familiarity crosses her face, "Nostalgia." She agrees, "Solterrians live life with the same vibrancy as my people did." Before she'd led the destruction to the Summer Court's doorstep. An unintentional invitation to those who would burn her kingdom to the ground in retaliation to her own conservative war efforts. She knew there were casualties in war. She had not been prepared for how tragic and all-encompassing they could be. She turned her attention back to him, her ears perked forward slightly, twitching as the motion caused them to brush against the flowers embedded into her mane, "I can also not deny my curiosity of how others handle coronations, and how it compares to the methods of my own people. Does Solterra typically find any reason to hold a celebration, or is it a function reserved for moments like this?" She adds with a curiosity, her head tilting to the side to observe the celebrations once more. Her people found a way to celebrate anything. Ironic, considering she'd missed her coronation, unaware she'd been raised to 'Queen' upon her parents' murder until she'd seen the graffiti praising her in the face of the heathens still ransacking her home.
When he speaks of indulging a scholar, she pauses.
A promise to see Solterra in exchange for stories of her people. She tilts her head, her expression thoughtful, "I suppose I can grant such a request. Naturally, not all of our stories can be spread. I am honor-bound to not indulge all of our secrets." It's proof of the depth of his magic's control, when the next sentence slips out without her notice, "I will not betray my citizens again." The possession is spoken without her notice, as she turns to observe the celebrations around them, really not finding any fault in the idea of leaving this place that hurt her heart to watch. She turns back to Sebastien, a beautiful smile stretching across her features.
Sebastien studies her as his magic drifts around her before it pulls her in. It takes time, but it is obvious she seems a little less wary to him. He smiles at her warmly. At least his expressions are something he can control. Caelum doesn't know that his smile is because he knows she's been pulled in close enough to succumb to the tides of his magic. He listens as she explains the Fae don't often like to give up information, and they favor coveting it. His visage tilts slightly as he listens to her explanations of the Fae. Sebastien is not surprised when he corrects him on the nature of her people. They are inherently dangerous, and he frowns thoughtfully in response. "It would seem that my books do not do your people justice. What little I have been able to glean has not alluded to the Fae favouring knowledge. While I understand that certain types of knowledge can cause catastrophic events... other types should be shared. Do the Fae see all knowledge as equal?" Sebastien asks her next, and while his intentions are to make her his next prize, he is intrigued to learn more about the Fae. He allows a pause before he makes another comment on the Fae and the dangerous intentions they have. "Sounds like the Fae would make good politicians... What are the intentions of the Fae then? If they are dangerous, are they always dangerous? Are they only self-serving for your kin as a whole... or do the Fae seek to do intentional harm?" The questions may seem loaded, but the way he asks the questions, it is clear that he is simply seeking to understand.
Caelum offers that her people and the Solterrans are similar. Festive with a vibrant culture. She asks about the coronation and the festivals. If they offer festivals for certain dates, or to celebrate certain things. "Coronations in Novus are always different. While there are persisting cultural norms in each court, it largely falls to the ruler how coronations go. Most tend to provide speeches about what they envision as the future for their new subjects, and others have said few words. Some throw lavish parties. As for festivals... Solterra is indeed a festive culture in my experience. What the court celebrates can fall on the shoulders of the Sovereign, or the people. Solis is a staple of the court and celebrations in his honor are familiar. I view Solterran festivities as a celebration of life, and the way we live." Sebastien offers the information to her based on his own life experiences. Sure, she could find it in a book but hearing it from a native of Solterra was another thing entirely.
Caelum's next words are the ones that interest him the most. She explains she is honor-bound not to divulge secrets, and that she will not betray her people again. Despite the now insatiable curiosity bubbling up from his core, he knows he cannot ask about this yet. This is just her first experience with his magic. The more often she's exposed to him, the better it will work, and the more he will be able to learn. Instead, Sebastien smiles at her with a chuckle. "You say that like I'm going to be asking for secrets when in reality I would like to hear about your culture. What do your people love and cherish? What does it mean to call yourself Fae? Things like that. Things you can share. Sometimes it's nice to share cultures because then you can make friends who know what is important to you... After all your culture is an important part of your identity is it not?" He offers to her. Sebastien is satisfied with his choice of words and can focus on the continual use of his magic.
i feel like the flowers in this vase,
he just bought 'em home one day,
"Ain't they beautiful" he said
She feels his eyes on her, it's an unfamiliar feeling.
To have someone's attention so fully. It had been so long since she felt this . . . enthralling to an individual. In another place, another time, such attention would have alarmed her, but as his magic swirled and pulled her closer . . it felt, well it felt right. Like a moth to the flame, she couldn't resist, even as the heat would begin to burn her. Right now, that heat was just a tickle of electricity down her skin, a subtle warmth that made her feel more alive than she had in such a long time. He smiled, the warmth of it seeming so real that she couldn't help but be reeled in, inch by inch. She couldn't know it was a practice act, meant to capture her in his web, like a spider watching its prey buzz closer, closer, closer.
She doesn't hesitate to speak, telling him of the fae.
Yet she can't help but smile, to be a bit more playful with the information. Her ears perk when he tells her that books don't do her people justice, and she had to grin her expression dancing, and at that moment, those brown eyes warmed to molten chocolate, and her voice lowers to an almost purr, so uncharacteristic for her 'regal Caelum's persona she wore so well. But in this instant, in that brief moment, she was a little more than prim and proper, a little more than the Crowned Princess, the Runaway Queen; at this moment, she couldn't help but just be Caelum, "Well, if all of our secrets lay open in the books, how else would the fae ensnare our victims." She asked, her tone low, playful, eyes dancing as she stares up at him, practically bating him to ask how a fae ensnares someone.
Had he read of those old stories?
He did speak of how his studies didn't mention fae favoring knowledge, and of how some knowledge should be shared, asking if Fae saw all knowledge as equal. She is thoughtful for a moment, long black lashes sweeping shut over cocoa eyes as she ponders his words. Those unusually expressive eyes flutter open again and she smiles coyly, a playful tug to her lips as the woman gently shrugs her shoulders. The motion sweeps a dusting of faerie dust from those wings, encouraging the growth of the flowers around her hooves, "I would not say we are opposed to sharing knowledge, but Fae do not appreciate giving things away for free. It is give and take, and most importantly, fae like to feel like they get the better end of the deal." She pauses, expression thoughtful, trying to think of the right way to explain it further, "In short, we want to come out of a bargain with the best hand, and do not fear holding back." She pauses again before finally sighing and giving in toothe slight push to explain properly, unaware that push wasn't her own conscience.
"It's like saying thank you to a fae."
The simple sentence was followed with a pause, "It should never, ever be said, because it's alluding to you owing the fae a favor. Or, should a faerie ask for your name, and I do mean literally if one says 'May I have your name.' You must never give your name freely, you should only answer with something like 'you can call me' but never just hand over your name - it would be giving the fae true ownership . . . " She pauses again, this time frowning in confusion for why she was going into so much detail, on why Fae don't share their secrets. Because, in the end, the fae likes to be on top, "Unfortunately, with so many . . . careful ways to phrase or do things around a fae . . . we can make enemies when we play with the wrong sort . . . so we like to obscure and hide our weaknesses as well." She doesn't go into detail here.
Though, should he ask, the magic may push her to reply,
She was falling victim quickly, with no mental defenses to protect her as the magic encourages her to relax, to be herself, to not be nervous. To trust him. She laughs when he comments on fae making politicians before she pauses at the intentions of fae, "No . . . not dangerous." She responds, "The Winter Court is hidden behind a barrier to keep outsiders from bothering them . . . and while the Summer Queen walks free, she is . . . not looking for trouble. She would be happy if no one knows who she is. But, she is also not afraid to ensure no fae threatens others. Or, so I have heard . . . but, more importantly, there is . . . not much left of the Summer Court, of my home. It was destroyed recently, by enemies of the Summer Queen." Caelum flinches at the memories, shaking her head briefly, "The fae not behind the barrier are more concerned about protecting each other, defending intruders on fae land . . . they are no threat. Most importantly, fae do not really ever wish to harm. We mostly just enjoy pranks and teasing others." She shakes off the final feelings of the past, once more smiling as his magic soothed the upset her words had caused her.
Perhaps the first good thing his magic had done.
Even if it had been to keep her relaxed and comfortable with him. "I apologize, I do not normally speak so openly, or at length . . . I guess you are just easy to speak with." She apologies, her chocolate gaze lifting back up to his lavender gaze, ears perking when he speaks on Coronations, of the differences in the rulers and how different ones hold things differently. Her ears did perk at the idea of festivals, however; being part of the culture of Solterra. Her smile softens, saddens again, "I can understand that. The Summer Court had many festivities focused around the sun, and summertime. Considering our King held the very essence of Summer, it is not much of a surprise how important it is for us." Her gaze is still on the festivities, watching the way the people of Novus interact, even as her ears twisted towards Sebastien, so she wouldn't miss what he had to say. "I suppose, the Summer Court would have many similarities to Solterra indeed." She whispered softly.
She turns her gaze forcefully from the scene.
Looking up at him, she tilted her head at the sight of his smile, the sound of his chuckle. Her eyes warm again, chasing the shadows away, and she marvels at how . . . better she suddenly feels. When he leaves, when his magic can't reach out so easily, the return of such negativity would hit her hard, would have her searching out his comforting presence all the more, like a drug addict looking for their next fix. "You never know when someone surprises you with a question you are not prepared for." The idea of talking about the culture of her people, of what it meant to be fae had her smiling slightly. She nods at his words, motioning for him to walk with her, "I guess, fae; to the depths of our beings are playful creatures. We love to play. To dance, to laugh, to sing. We love to interact, to draw a smile. We hold festivities for any reason. A new birth. A new relationship. A successful harvest. Because it stopped raining. Whether the reason is worth a celebration or not, we enjoy the ability to have fun together." Her smile with a fondness, "When I had originally been planning to marry my childhood sweetheart, the entire kingdom celebrated for a week straight."
She stops walking, turning her gaze back up to him.
"But, we are also selfish being. We do not care being taken for granted, for being made the fool. We are entirely too possessive, we cling to what we believe is ours with everything we have." She laughs, ducking her face in old embarrassment, "The amount of times I have make a fool of myself from jealousy is almost laughable. I would hate any woman getting to close to the man I was with." That had been no truer than with her demon. "But we are also proud. Proud of our heritage, we do not like being dismissed, or ignored, or made to feel as if we are second best." There's a pause, a moment of uncertainty, those very words stirring up feelings she was conflicted with now, "Sorry, I distracted myself." Her gaze returns to him, a shy, apologetic smile, "Relationship problems. Or . . . well, maybe it is a lack of a relationship? Perfect proof, I suppose of how bothersome to myself, to my people, it is when we feel dismissed, or second to other things." She added, embarrassed.
When was the last time she felt this comfortable showing emotion?
She briefly knocks her shoulder against his, a casual touch from a mare who typically avoided it, "I feel like I have been doing all the talking . . . What about you, what are the important attributes of your identity?" She asked curiously, her muzzle twisting into a playful, teasing smile, "I cannot be the only one sharing secrets and tales." She adds, before kicking up her heels, continuing their stroll in a prance, the flowers in her mane growing a little bigger with her good mood, twirling into a flower crown around her temple, as she looks back at him, "Perhaps we can play a question for a question. I ask you something, and in return will answer a question, so neither of us do all the talking." Her gaze is curious once more.
"Why did you approach me out of everyone at the festival?"
"Speech" Thoughts
@Sebastien Notes: She's just like 'why am I talking so much?' followed by 'none of this is flirting, nope, I'm being friendly. I don't flirt.' and yet I'm like 'I think you're flirting a bit, stop liking the bad guys, please.'
they've been here in the kitchen and the water's turnin' grey.
they're sittin' in the vase but now they're dead.
dead flowers.
