“
Like what?” she dared ask, curiosity glittering in her quartz eyes. What exactly did he get up to in his spare time, outside parading through festivals and buying women pretty things? Why did he hide behind such a facade? Pavetta could understand most of it, certainly. She herself craved the drink so she might enjoy the freedom to experiment, to travel, to present a new mask of confidence and intrigue wherever she might go, to whoever she might meet. But rather than encourage their habits this night, she wanted
more. More than the sly smile he offered.
She wanted truth amid the smoke and masks and stars this night.
“
Although it is indeed fair, Delumine is probably a bit more docile than what you’re accustomed to over in Denocte.” Dawn certainly was a softer place, more pastel and daydreams than the shadow and firelight of Denocte. It had grown on her, though. She had felt a certain restlessness when she first arrived in the fair vale of green and flowers and gray, rain-filled dawns. It was a place of melancholy, of solitude. A hidden place, untouched by most of the strife of Novus. For now, anyhow. Surely even this peace couldn’t last forever.
He jabbered along, almost chatting in a nervous manner—
why should he be nervous? And so she helped usher him in the right direction, swaying along with him through the crowd as she pondered his idle chatter. He seemed lost, misplaced. A denoctian in Delumine.
She waited until they had both drank deeply from the goblets of sparkling wine. Pavetta had not thought about the portal that had brought her here for some time. She drank once more, until the stars seemed brighter, the colors more vivid, the night blacker. A pleasant haze of warmth bloomed in her chest. “
Do you mind if we take a walk?—Well, in your case, you can stagger along.” The path through through the vendors and booths was lit by glowing lanterns, casting golden light across their skin as they ambled under the forest edge.
“
I entered the portal by choice. I could have stayed in my home realm but there was nothing for me there. Here, there may be.” That night she had been running, running, running. Running from the pyre, the flames licking in the sky, the emptiness in her heart. She missed him on nights like these. When the drink was too potent and the sky was beautiful—for he had always been a man of the moon and stars, a man of shadow and shade, earth and rain. And suddenly, the guilt leaked through the dam she had built over the past few months, the guilt of abandoning her clan, the clan she had been meant to lead after Fearghal’s passing. Her shorn hair had grown back but she feared a small part of her had disappeared forever. She didn't think she could ever know a man again the way she had known Fearghal.
He mentioned the Dusk queen and Pavetta’s eyes widened in surprise. “
I think I have met such a woman…in the woods of lovers and secrets. Do you know the place?” Perhaps she ought to blush when she mentioned she had been lurking in Amare Creek with a golden fairy woman but she was too intrigued by the rumors he shared. “
She was mysterious indeed. If that is what is said about her I believe it—the powers, I mean—I don’t know anything about this canoodling on the moon you speak of.” She thought she ought to tell him that if he ever intended to engage in female companionship of the intimate sort, he really ought to avoid the word
canoodle. It didn't exactly inspire the flames of passion, after all. She looked closely at him, delighted that the wine had loosened his tongue more than usual. “
Who are Reich and Iso? Friends of yours in Denocte?”
“
Ah, by boat makes sense,” she said, almost to herself. She smiled wryly. “
That is why you seem so adrift. What are you really doing here, friend? Like I said, Delumine seems a bit tame for you and your kind.” She didn’t fail to notice the way their skin brushed, for the second, or even third time. It felt nice. “
Before we take ourselves too seriously, I need another drink.” She opened the bottle and let it flow; the wine stained her lips red.
outfit reference
tail reference
a pearl in pigshit, a diamond on the finger of a rotting corpse,
creature in whom nothing, but nothing, remains of an elven woman ---
