N I M U E
we have calcium in our bones, iron in our veins,carbon in our souls, and nitrogen in our brains.
93 percent stardust, with souls made of flames,
we are all just stars with people names.
- nikita gill
For several days, the witch mulled over the truth in the rumors that had rung across the far reaches of the new world. The once-crumbling courts were now rebuilding, a regime stepping into the ranks of royalty. It was not the first time she had served, having sworn loyalty to a court in an older far off land in her childhood. But now? Her emotions battled constantly. She had half a heart to refuse to come and meet Dawn's new sovereign. Having witnessed worlds be born and destroyed over countless timelines, she felt that she was more than a simple sage attending a meet-and-greet with her new king. She was once a goddess, for all intent and purposes. She would not bow.
Oh, but in her core the witchy woman knew she had to. Her kingling was an extension of Oriens himself, and if she were ever to obtain the good graces of the gods for her immortality again.. she would have to play the game. Disgust built in the back of her throat, tasting of acid and bile. Nimue found herself standing in the shadows of a grassy glade, unseen and unspoken. The stench of blossoming flowers and roses suffocated her, and she pawed the ground with increasing annoyance. Through the branches and spring leaves, she looked down upon Dawn's new king. Dark bay in color, her eyes -- admittedly -- marveling his strong wings, she watched silently as he called out to them all. A smaller, delicate mare stepped forth from the trees, Nimue watching from a distant. They exchanged words, though she did not hear them. It appeared they knew each other.
The air thrummed. She could guess there might be multiple bodies hiding in the trees. Was she certain, the rosy dam did not know. But she refused to sit and wait, instead stepping lightly through the shadows under the treetops. A soft breeze tangled her forelock, her haunting eyes open for all to see. She stepped proudly and confidently towards the kingling, chin raised. Instead of deigning to bend a knee, the witchy woman instead dipped her head in respect of her new Sovereign. "I am Nimue, Your Grace," she spoke, "sage to the court of the rising sun."
