All Messalina really wanted, as she stood there shivering out of her skin, was a drink. Piping hot, with enough steam to melt the snowflakes that had tangled — and froze — in her lashes.
Liquor, she thought ruefully, as she glared at the frost of her breath. Even liquor would suffice. She had never cared much for alcohol, but merely imagining the trail of fire a strong glass of spiced rum would give chased the chill away from her cheeks. If only, then, she could materialize a glass from thin air. What a talent that would be.
The Praistigia Cliffs — she was fairly certain that was where she was, though navigation had never been a strength of hers — was a far cry from the rolling meadows and old-wood forests of Delumine.
Yet, it was not near enough to Terrastella’s citadel. And if Messalina was fairly certain about her whereabouts, then she was too certain that if she continued on her way in this punishing cold, she would be little more than an ice sculpture by the time she set hoof in Asterion’s noble court.
There had to be a town nearby. An inn, with warm drink and a warmer bed, she prayed, burrowing deeper into the meager cloak wrapped tightly around her shoulders.
Everything had gone according to her meticulous plans, as they ought to have — until the snowstorm had blown in like a tempest from the east. In a stroke of luck, the girl had managed to find a cave tucked into a crevice of the cliff face, and had huddled inside to shiver miserably until the blizzard had calmed.
Sighing, Messalina wondered if the scrolls she was going to collect from Terrastella’s library was worth all this shivering. Until she clicked her tongue and reminded herself, eyes slitting at her own selfishness, that the healing scrolls were invaluable assets to the Dawn Court’s archives.
Especially in such a period of festering unrest.
Absently, she patted the bundle of leather-bound scrolls tucked in a satchel slung across her chest. Knowledge for knowledge — for weeks she had corresponded with Terrastella’s head librarian to set up the exchange. Almost every morning Messalina had woken to a dove cooing on her windowsill, a curl of parchment tied to its outstretched leg. She had responded in kind with doves of her own — as snow white as her pelt.
Snow. The very word soured in her mouth. Tiredly, the girl summoned the will to peek her head out from the warmth of her cloak and scan the gloom for pinpricks of light. There had to be a town nearby. And then, when she narrowed her eyes a bit, she saw it.
In the distance, a shadow pulled away from the sky. A winged silhouette, large and dark and still against the backdrop of celestial sky. Her heart leapt with renewed hope when she spotted him. Faster and faster her stride became, until she was nearly trotting to the stranger's side.
Halting a polite distance away, Messalina smoothed down her windblown braids and cleared her throat.
“Good evening, sir. You are the first face I have seen this whole day — it is a welcome sight.” When she peered into his warm brown gaze, she dipped her crown to him in a courteous nod. “Do you come from a town near here?”
@Tucson | notes: so excited to thread with you!!
