Summer was growing far too warm for Morpho’s liking, and the butterfly mare was due for relief. Sweat glistened on her black hide, dampening it to darker hues of ink and gold. She fled to the sea cliffs, longing to feel the wind on her face and smell the salt of the ocean as it crashed below her. Even in the short time she’d been at Novus, the Sage had grown to appreciate the beauty of the Dusk Court… and nothing was more beautiful to her than walking along the edges of Praistigia Cliffs, where she could leave reality behind and become one with nature.
Here, the demons that plagued her seemed to flee, and she was left in the peace of the quiet. As she walked along the rocky cliffs, she closed her eyes to really feel the world around her – to hear the birds sing louder, to smell the damp sea spray, to taste the faintest hints of pollen on the wind. This was her place to stop and reset, and she found herself a bit surprised (if not disappointed) to hear another approach. Turning toward the sound, her meadow green eyes opened to find the flower girl, and while her body had once been tensed to flee from the intrusion, it relaxed and she offered Florentine a hint of a smile.
She didn’t know the mare, but had heard of the Emissary of Terrestella, and nodding to the girl, Morpho offered a kindly sort of greeting. “It’s a good morning to follow the sea.” She stopped, and turned back to the cerulean blue water with a whimsical sort of sigh. For the briefest of moments, there is an overwhelming urge that comes over the mare to dive into the briny deeps, to swim in the great expanse of blue. Turning from the urge, she addresses the honey colored Pegasus again. “I don’t know that we’ve met. Morpho.”
Her mind is filled with darkness as she walks along the cliff head. Each step is slow, falling perilously close to the edge as her wings are held out beside her. They tip and dip, catching her, balancing her, summoning the air.
The wind is the strongest it has been for days, rolling in off the sea and roaring like a lion in her golden ears. They fall to her skull, becoming lost in the wild snarls of her mane whose tendrils toss this way, that way.
She wonders, as she walks this line, how easy it would be to fall from the cliff and fly across the sea, to darkness, to night, to him. That creature of starlight, so at one with the spirit of the night he steals the breath from her lungs.
The winds roar ever louder and she girl so softly smiles, her petals falling inland as the winds blow harder. She opens her mouth to vow to the wind, to her petals that flee to the heart of Terrastella, to her Court of Sunset, that yes, yes, she will stay, forever, for always. But the words don’t come, for in her wild thoughts, she had missed the arrival of another.
The girl looks at Florentine, bathing her in a green even the trees cannot aspire to. The flower girl blinks slowly, the heat of the sun dashed by the winds that throw her mane up to tangle with her eyelashes. Her smile arrives slowly, curling her lips with a languid grace, even as her eyes peer out towards the sea, towards him. She did not rest all night since she left the gods temples. It was ironic she had gone to find gods and yet still found none. What would she say when she next saw Inkheart?
“It is a good morning, you are right. The wind is a nice relief from the stifling heat.” She says, her tired eyes closing to better drink the smell of rolling seas.
When they open once more, they are fixed upon the girl of black and gold, “Welcome Morpho. I am Florentine.” She trails off, her soul too whimsical, her heart too torn and her mind too drowsy. “How have you been finding Terrastella so far?” She asks, moving away from the Cliffside to fall in step with the girl. As she does, as though shedding a dark, dark cloak, her smile grows more soft, her eyes more mischievous. Her steps become a dance for she is no longer a creature of quiet yearning, but one of light heartedness, her skin becomes her own, her heart closing itself, for now, only for now.
With the sea breeze at her back and the wind in her hair, Morpho was at peace. Gone were the whispers of her past that haunted her, and here she felt nothing but alive. Here, she could cast aside the fear and the pain that had plagued her. Here, the mistakes she had once made were forgiven. The Dusk Court was proving to be a warm and welcoming place, and even as she turned to watch the honeyed girl’s face turn from being whimsically lost to warm, her heart went out to Florentine. For though she didn’t know the thoughts that plagued the flower mare, she understood the undertones (however subtle). Such was the curse of an empath, and the gift.
Before she can ask if the mare is alright, Florentine is painting on a mask and growing steadily more chipper by the moment. Dredging up her worries could wait, and Morpho returned the girl’s happy words with a smile. Perhaps this mare, with her wings of gold and the dagger at her throat, would be her first friend here. Morpho liked the sound of it.
The questions turned to her thoughts of the Dusk Court, and Morpho had to smile. Her voice is quiet, thoughtful as she searches for the words to express her many emotions. For how would one paint a picture of retribution and forgiveness? Quietly, she mused to her new friend. ”I feel at peace here. There is something in the stillness that is a comfort. Something in the whispering wind that soothes me.” And she knew the second girl would understand. For there was a likeness in Florentine, she knew. And it was more than the sea breeze and sunlight.
”And you? You have seen more than here – the world beyond our walls. Tell me, what is your impression of this new and strange world? What secrets does it hold?”
I feel at peace here. There is something in the stillness that is a comfort. Something in the whispering wind that soothes me.
They were poetic words, thought provoking words that cast the Dusk girl’s eyes out to the sea. Her eyes followed the dancing of her hear, tugged by the winds that rushed out into the open waters.
There was a stillness in Dusk. It was the calm after the hot tribulations of the day and the rest before the night awoke with gleaming stars and wild, mysterious games.
Florentine’s attention was drawn in from the sea, up the cliffs and back to the gilded mare. For a long moment the girl of flowers simply watches this new creature, intuition her gift, beauty her glorious art upon the world.
A smile creeps its way slowly across Flora’s face, it rises to meet her amethyst eyes, twinkling like a star within a speckled sky. “I have seen other places.” The time-traveller says, her smile turning sad, if only for a moment. The weight of her dagger had long since eased, although it still hurt to feel its emptiness upon her breast.
She sets that lilac gaze upon this new girl of black and gold and smiles a smile of secrets and mysteries. “It depends what types of secrets you seek.” She looks to the sky, to the passing sun as it floats silently from the sky, so slow she cannot see it move, so fast it is near dark in the blink of an eye. “Everywhere holds secrets and mysteries, Novus is one of them. It just depends whether its secrets are ones that appeal to you… What do you seek?”
How true the words of the flower girl were – for Morpho was a creature wrought with secrets. How easy would it be to spill them to the innocent emissary, to let her story flow freely to the other girl, here on the cliffs in the sea air… but she couldn’t. Morpho’s demons were locked deep within, down hidden where she hoped none would find them. As she stood in the briskness of the late summer air, there is a wisp of despair that crosses her face as she remembers… but as quickly as it appears, it leaves her expression once more. She would not allow the past to dictate her future here.
Slowly, she considered the golden pegasus’ question. What did she seek? The answer was an easy one. ”Redemption” The word is quiet and thoughtful, but as the butterfly mare stares toward the sea, she offers no more of an explanation. For her story is far from a pretty one, and far from a damper she wished to lay at the feet of the kindly stranger. Masking the thoughts that plagued her, Morpho’s meadow green eyes found Flora’s once more, and she offered a soft and knowing smile.
”And you… so young and bright… what do you wish of this world?” It wasn’t that long ago – but Morpho remembered being bright and full of wants. She remembered a world where love was kind, where the sun was warm and inviting. And even now, she longed for those days of innocence in the sun. But the black and gold mare was a cursed one, destined to atone for the sins of her past – for the sins of her mother… and she could do nothing now to amend what had already come to pass.
Morpho may not have wished to put a damper upon the flower girl, yet the moment that word redemption slips past her lips intrigue is the only thing it inspires.
“What do you need redemption for?” Florentine asks as she considers this girl through her windswept fringe. Her eyes darken, for there is not part of this stranger’s face that glows with mirth. There is no gleam of a heart free from torment. No, Morpho’s heavy heart is drawn upon her face by shadow, by aching lines, black and bleak.
It might have been enough to wipe Flora’s own glow from her golden skin, but the girl is becoming accustomed to this war her heart and soul wage. It is a quiet war, a battle of tears and smiles, quips and laments. Happiness reigned where sorrow could not and it refuses to reliniquish now, no even when the word redemption hangs both gloriously and terribly between the two Dusk girls.
And you… so young and bright… what do you wish of this world?
so young and bright…
Amethyst, unusually still, unusually quiet, settles his gaze upon the stranger. The waves swell and sigh, hiss and fall and through it all Florentine merely considers this girl once more. These were not new observations, for how many times had she been called such? Been labeled an imp, a pixie, a fairy, all creatures bright and bubbly and beautiful. All creatures in possession of wild, wild magic and adorned with playful spirits. Yes, Florentine was bubbly and bright, but what did she wish of this world?
The buttercream girl looks to the sky, the sea, the trees and the meadow. Flowers sway and bend in the lazy breeze, the sun gleams soft and gold, held like a halo within a sea of tranquil blue. It is idyllic here, and yet, she wishes to be anywhere but Novus. She wishes to roam where her bare feet carry her. Diversity calls for her, it constricts her heart and turns her limbs restless.
From beneath dusky lashes she surveys Morpho, “I long to leave here, to travel as I once did.” It is a breath, a sigh, a lament, that fills the silence her words left behind them. Florentine knows she cannot, that it will take a miracle to find where her magic went.
“So, until I can, I wish only for love.” For what else was she to wish for? What else did her heart and soul crave? They may be at war, these two great pieces of her, but they were agreed upon that. “I live for adventure and love, if I cannot have both, then I will settle for the one that is left for me. And that is love.”
And what a cliché it was!
Her laughter begins to bubble and grow and grow until she laughs enough to mend both their aching souls.
@Morpho - I am enjoying this thread! I love their dynamic! Flora needs a girly friend - maybe Morpho is willing?
★ She is clothed with strength and dignity,
and she laughs without fear of the future ★
09-25-2017, 07:14 AM - This post was last modified: 09-25-2017, 07:14 AM by Florentine
The moment that the word leaves her lips, Morpho immediately regrets her honesty. For so long, she had grown accustomed to keeping her emotions bottled tight, but here on the sea cliffs, the emissary of flowers was chinking away at the cocoon she’d so carefully crafted for herself. For the briefest of moments, annoyance flashes across Morpho’s features, not at the girl, but at her own relaxed admission. She sighs for a moment, offering a waning sort of smile to the girl, judging it safe to talk to her about the demons that plagued her (even if she wouldn’t feel comfortable sharing with anyone else).
”It’s a long story, I’m afraid… and there are too many reasons to count. Suffice to say I was younger too once, eager to save the world. And I bit off more than I could chew – miscalculated the weight of greed and selfishness. Miscalculated the value of power, and the way some get drunk off the thought of it.” The butterfly mare didn’t get into the way she’d stood up to the traitors, the way she’d led what was left of her herd to their deaths in the winter. That was a story for another day, but it was an experience that had definitely shaped the creature she had become.
Thin golden ears flick toward the emissary’s admission, and she nodded in a knowing sort of way. For with responsibility came the relinquishment of freedoms. Morpho could empathize with the want to be free – to follow desires and whims at will. Flora deserved that – she deserved to enjoy the childhood she was only just emerging from. ”It is good, to see the world and to know what can come from it. The borders of Novus, while a wide sort of cage, keep you here – responsibility will keep you here too… but you should never settle for any reason. Don’t let others’ expectations clip your wings.”
Still too, she offered her new friend a soft and knowing smile. ”But love… love is certainly a thing to celebrate. It’s a leap without knowing what comes next.” While Morpho had never herself been in love, she certainly understood the giving aspects of the heart – as an empath, she so loved the world that she gave without any regard for herself. If she could teach the girl one thing, it would be to protect her heart as much as she opens it to give – for heartbreak was a wound that healed with scars.
”You seem troubled by the thought though… what holds you from love?”
The Dusk girl blinks slowly. Her attention is rapt, her lashes heavy beneath the words of sin: greed and selfishness.
Florentine, for all that she has been viewed as innocent and beautiful, has sinned as much as any. Though, like all, her sins are varied and unqiue only to her. She knows nothing of what it is to crave power and be so selfishly consumed. And yet, she has known the fiery bite of jealousy and the wild heartbeat of lust.
“Did you crave the power – or others?” The lavender girl asks slowly, thoughtfully. She peers up from beneath her fringe, painting Morpho’s gold with vibrant amethyst. “If your reasons were good though, Morpho, then how could anyone truly fault you… There are many that would run than try to take on the world, I am sure.”
Her eyes drift out to the sea that glitters beneath the sun as though it were made of only gems. Only when Florentine’s laughter has died, when she hangs upon the last of Morpho’s fading words, does the flower girl’s gaze return to her compatriot. “My wings are clipped, but it is not through the fault of any one person.”
The call of night has her gazing back out to sea, her mind flees ahead of her pondering just what the Night king might be doing whilst she stands here, thinking of him. “I nearly joined Denocte once, not long after Rannveig had asked me to be Emissary.” The twilight girl is silent, her eyes lifting up to listen for the call of stars beyond the blue, blue sky. “I was so in love with Denocte. I think I still am.” Her eyes fall like stars she captured and cast down to earth. “But I learnt that I loved Dusk more. I am not sure that Denocte can ever be more than just a fanciful dream for me.”
You seem troubled… what holds you from love?
Flora’s smile is at once old and knowing, and so young and untried. It is rueful and beautiful with its wary sadness. “What doesn’t?” It is a short look she shares with Morpho before her lashes lower, snagging within the snarls of her honey hair. Petals, purple and royal, topple to the earth. “Our love has hurt others and we agreed we cannot be together because he is not from Dusk… I have been told he could never love me.” A breath, a sigh, a flutter of a heart upon her breastbone fills the void between them before Flora continues, “I am in love with a boy I barely know.”
@Morpho – eek having to backtrack here as so much has gone on since our thread started!
”Not me.” Morpho didn’t crave anything but peace. ”Suffice to say, greed and selfishness can tear apart the strongest of herds. I was in such a place once, and our leader deserted us in the night, taking the warriors with him and leaving the rest of us to die one by one in the cold.” She shuddered, remembering, not wanting to share anything more of her past with the flower girl. These stories were far from pleasant, and she didn’t want to bring the mare down with her troubles and faces long stamped out by time.
When Florentine talks of Denocte, the astute sage knows it is more than a land that draws her there. It’s something in the way she talks of the Night Court that lets Morpho see more clearly. Her thoughts are confirmed when Florentine mentions loving another from a different court. Nodding with understanding, she offers the girl an encouraging smile. ”Love can be difficult sometimes, but it prevails through the strains of distance and even allegiance. I don’t know that yours would be a forbidden love though – Rannveig seems progressive and welcoming to the Night Court.”
”Love is a thing to be celebrated, whether he is different from you or the same. I’d say, take the leap – go to him, and don’t let duty keep you from your own happiness. You’re in a better position than most – for the Emissary needs to keep relations with all of the others. I should like to see the Night Court as well… perhaps you could take me with you, to convene with the sages? Keep things more official…” She winked to Flora, giving her an out for her tryst and a plausible reason to go to her lover. And through it all, there is a quiet sense of empathy for the girl who is pulled in too many directions. She deserved the freedom she so craved, and more than anything, in this moment Morpho wanted to give it to her.
Florentine is sure she can feel the icy touch of the night about which Morpho speaks. It creeps its way up her narrow spine, chilling deeper than skin, deeper than bone. Her shiver comes from the depths of her being. “I cannot decide whether that is cowardice or a complete lack of empathy.” The flower girl whispers, “I have never met anyone I could think capable of such a thing. I am sorry you had to witness and endure such cruelty, Morpho.”
The grasses rustled and even with the approaching march of winter, they are still laden with richness. The land still hummed with the ebbing warmth of summer. “I hope you shall never find Dusk so cold.” And it is not just cold of weather that Florentine speaks, but cold of heart.
The shiver of cold becomes little more than a phantom memory in the wake of Morpho’s words. It is chased away by the heat that floods to the Dusk girl’s cheeks as their conversation persists upon the topic of Denocte and the whereabouts of her heart…
Lashes, thick with dusklight and heavy with shyness, tickle along her cheekbones. “Rannveig is open to relations with all the Courts. She encouraged me to explore my attraction to Denocte.” Florentine’s gaze turns sly, the curl of her lips mischievous, “Maybe then I can blame her for finding myself in love with a boy. They are quite distracting.”
Amethyst eyes glitter like a laugh, “I can take you there, I rarely need an excuse, after all. Would you like to go now?” Her eyes lift to the clouds bruised by rising night, their blood seeping red and lilac across the sky. “Night is coming and that is when Denocte is at its finest.” Flora’s gaze snags the black and gold girl beside her and there is something wild to Florentine then, the dangerous magic of a pixy spry in spirit and so wholly unpredictable.
With that the flower girl turns towards Denocte, a beckoning glance cast over her shoulder.
@Morpho – thinking we should wrap this up? I am happy to toddle on over to Denocte and see if we can get a convo going with others there?
★ She is clothed with strength and dignity,
and she laughs without fear of the future ★
11-01-2017, 10:43 AM - This post was last modified: 03-10-2018, 12:54 PM by Florentine
