Caelum
i've had just enough time"
Dark, cold and the wind blows.
It was the perfect evening for coming forth and mourning, and Caelum couldn't deny herself, or the others around her from doing so; even if she only lit one candle aflame this day. Her son's life cut so short, so soon, it was painful for the should-be queen to admit just how painful that single candle was to light. Even if her heart hurt for other lost souls too. She'd mourn those loved and gone another night, this one had been for her son - and could one blame her for hesitating to mourn stallions passed - a history like hers, where every significant and romantic could-be mate met and end too soon?
Everyone dies . . .
Arson had been her first love, the friendship that grew stronger and into something pure and wonderful and yet innocent. Calico had been her last, a relationship that started as comrades over a shared goal and turned into something deeper with their child being born. And . . . Tremaine. His name is whispered less in her mind than any other, perhaps for the deep pain associated with her demon. When they say opposites attract - that didn't even begin to describe what she and Tremaine had had. He was the darkness to her vibrancy, the quick anger to her gentle nurture. He'd been the strength and protector, she'd been the soft and caring. They'd complimented each other in ways no one had completed them before. And when their worst traits came out, the other had soothed them. She'd been life, and he'd been death - the fairy princess and the demon recluse.
Her heart burned cold.
As it typically did when she thought about the dark stallion who'd been her fondest of companions, the stallion that had almost cost her the ability to ever love again. A warmth suddenly settled against her chest, directly beneath the softly glowing ruby gem around her neck. The stone itself was growing warmer, pulsing as if to remind her not all was lost, and she bit back a bitter smile at the only reminder she had left of Tremaine and their time together. The artifact was near useless beyond it's reassurances. Before it would alert him should she run into trouble, a secondary layer of protection as he couldn't not try to keep her safe.
It now sung to silence.
No one would hear the warning chimes of her getting in over her head. No ebony stallion with fire in his gaze would come to rescue her any longer. His too-hot demon wings would never wrap her in warmth to shelter during the coldest of nights. His charming, if not fang-filled smirk would never delight a laugh from her muzzle. And his own rich laughter would never perk her up, his warm voice would never chase away the chill.
He took a light away with his death.
Calico had helped, after they'd realized they were more than just comrades facing off against the darkness, and her son had warmed what hadn't been touched in a long time, but once they left, the whole left behind had grown, and the cold that had settled around her after Tremaine's untimely end had come back in full force. Perhaps the truth for why she'd not lit a candle for Arson, Calico or Tremaine was the fact the one she missed most was her demon rebel; and she knew it improper to focus on one life gone above the rest. The others didn't deserve that, but Tremaine had been so special, some wild and fiery - and had left her in the frigid cold.
As cold inside as out.
Perhaps it is why she didn't bother with heading away from the area with the first darkening of the sky - she felt such coldness in her soul that the weather outside did little to tempt her away. But in hanging around longer, unable to walk from her son; she had seen another waiting and silent. She had never the intention to approach, never the intention to interrupt - and yet . . . . she had moved towards him, speaking softly in concern to him being outside in the cold.
Pot, meet kettle.
Who was she to judge when she'd stayed just as late to mourn, to used to the cold to be bothered to deeply with it. Simply burying the ice and snow that had been her fire and love into her soul and forcing herself to move the frozen limbs, and keep the facade on her face proper. A queen doesn't show pain, doesn't show when she's hurting. She must be strong for her people, even when she thinks she can't go any further, Are you proud of me, mother? Who knew her mother's teachings can be turned to this.
Despite the cold, she lived.
The heart had frozen off the chance of love, of being hurt ever again but she pushed forward, smiled and laughed - made friends and lived her life. Lived for those who could not, wasn't that what she'd promised Shiori? And she prospered to do so, which meant helping others move on and live on as well - even a stallion stoic before a spent candle. She wasn't sure if she broke through to the stallion, he not moving - keeping his defeated stance. Her heart sung with a heavy song, she knew the look well enough, one who'd outlived a love. Perhaps this was a better example for why she couldn't bring herself to light a candle for Tremaine, would she end up in this state of depressed defeat? Arson would be met with fond, but sad memories. Calico would be remembered and sadly relieved he was there for their son among the stars. Tremaine . . . would be her undoing.
He had that affect on her.
The breeze suddenly picked up, and her gaze followed the unkempt mess of his dark tresses, even as her own thick ivory locks billowed around her face, picked up in the wind that was so eager to hold her. Her hooves stayed firmly on the ground as she tried to speak to the other again - but a reply never came, she wasn't even sure if he was aware of her speech, of her concern, until suddenly her final comment had him moving. His jaw lifted, and she had to keep from flinching at the crack to his neck bones - he'd clearly been too long out here.
His eyes were freezing.
Chocolate met Ice, and she couldn't help but be unnerved by the soulless, freezing depths - and perhaps for the first time since she'd made the decision to keep moving forward, she worried if her eyes told her own story of her heart frozen away with out Tremaine's touch, or her son's laughter to warm it up. She squared her shoulders, pushing those worries into the same ball of cold that had been left behind after Tremaine's departure from this world. She didn't want to ponder, or even worry on such thoughts, they would do her no good. She had to keep strong, hold on. She was better than the coldness he'd left behind to cage her heart and fire.
She kept moving, even without him.
Her attention refocused on the male before her, and she tilted her head in obvious concern at his seeming distance. His voice was raspy, nearly croaking as he merely asked a quiet 'What?' Caelum paused, before tilting her head and almost taking on a more stern expression before she let loose a shy and shook her head, those ivory threads dancing around her blue facade, "I take that as it being safe to assume you hadn't caught a word I'd uttered?" She mused softly, even as he seemed to start to piece things together, commenting the cold wasn't so bad. Caela eyed him quietly, letting a soft amount of quiet penetrate the air between them.
No, perhaps the cold wasn't too bad.
Not to those who felt the same within. Caelum wouldn't allow herself to dwell on that. That was the difference in her acts to bury the frozen heart behind walls of her own making to keep the ice from spreading, to keep her able to be out and about and take part in things around her. Yes, the deepest part of her, that should shine bright and warm with love was frozen off and most reflections of that emotion now had a tendency to taste fake to her tongue, but she kept pushing forward, unwilling to let it bury her in the snow and ice it wanted to spread.
She had to be stronger than that.
Her smile was warm, a touch teasing as she eyed the dark stallion, "Oh, yes, the cold isn't all that bad at all - there's only the start of ice growing where water had set, and the air is only cold enough to see your own words fan from your muzzle - it's practically a warm summer night indeed." She shook her head, her gaze gentling, her voice softening, "Or is it more the case you've stopped being able to notice the cold? Still, it begs the question - would the others in your life not feel a since of disappointment to see your neglect of yourself, should you be found by daybreak, frozen in place?" She knew a few friends that should they catch her in the same predicament she'd found him in, that it'd be a total mutiny. She'd have a chaperone, and plenty of interventions for weeks until she could pretend to be normal well enough to pass inspection.
Perhaps it was why she wasn't judging him.
It's hard to judge someone when you're hiding what they must be feeling. Cael had buried the ball of ice and cold into the center of her being, present and frigid, but with enough clouds and sunshine and rainbows that few would know it lay in wait to spread and conquer her attempts to be normal . . . Looking at the dark stallion, she wonders if he had given into that cold . . . "Well, if you don't mind me asking, even if you're not the sort to note the cold, would you walk a lady back to the bonfires?" It was a touch of a ploy - to get him away from the cold, closer to the fires that could spread warmth - and with pleading to most stallions' more chivalrous behavior, she might even succeed. Her muzzle stilled as she awaited his reply - whether it be to take up a verbal spar of not being to cold, or it be an acceptance to walk her from the cold, and thus deliver him to warmth.
"Speech"
Thoughts
@Vikander
It was the perfect evening for coming forth and mourning, and Caelum couldn't deny herself, or the others around her from doing so; even if she only lit one candle aflame this day. Her son's life cut so short, so soon, it was painful for the should-be queen to admit just how painful that single candle was to light. Even if her heart hurt for other lost souls too. She'd mourn those loved and gone another night, this one had been for her son - and could one blame her for hesitating to mourn stallions passed - a history like hers, where every significant and romantic could-be mate met and end too soon?
Everyone dies . . .
Arson had been her first love, the friendship that grew stronger and into something pure and wonderful and yet innocent. Calico had been her last, a relationship that started as comrades over a shared goal and turned into something deeper with their child being born. And . . . Tremaine. His name is whispered less in her mind than any other, perhaps for the deep pain associated with her demon. When they say opposites attract - that didn't even begin to describe what she and Tremaine had had. He was the darkness to her vibrancy, the quick anger to her gentle nurture. He'd been the strength and protector, she'd been the soft and caring. They'd complimented each other in ways no one had completed them before. And when their worst traits came out, the other had soothed them. She'd been life, and he'd been death - the fairy princess and the demon recluse.
Her heart burned cold.
As it typically did when she thought about the dark stallion who'd been her fondest of companions, the stallion that had almost cost her the ability to ever love again. A warmth suddenly settled against her chest, directly beneath the softly glowing ruby gem around her neck. The stone itself was growing warmer, pulsing as if to remind her not all was lost, and she bit back a bitter smile at the only reminder she had left of Tremaine and their time together. The artifact was near useless beyond it's reassurances. Before it would alert him should she run into trouble, a secondary layer of protection as he couldn't not try to keep her safe.
It now sung to silence.
No one would hear the warning chimes of her getting in over her head. No ebony stallion with fire in his gaze would come to rescue her any longer. His too-hot demon wings would never wrap her in warmth to shelter during the coldest of nights. His charming, if not fang-filled smirk would never delight a laugh from her muzzle. And his own rich laughter would never perk her up, his warm voice would never chase away the chill.
He took a light away with his death.
Calico had helped, after they'd realized they were more than just comrades facing off against the darkness, and her son had warmed what hadn't been touched in a long time, but once they left, the whole left behind had grown, and the cold that had settled around her after Tremaine's untimely end had come back in full force. Perhaps the truth for why she'd not lit a candle for Arson, Calico or Tremaine was the fact the one she missed most was her demon rebel; and she knew it improper to focus on one life gone above the rest. The others didn't deserve that, but Tremaine had been so special, some wild and fiery - and had left her in the frigid cold.
As cold inside as out.
Perhaps it is why she didn't bother with heading away from the area with the first darkening of the sky - she felt such coldness in her soul that the weather outside did little to tempt her away. But in hanging around longer, unable to walk from her son; she had seen another waiting and silent. She had never the intention to approach, never the intention to interrupt - and yet . . . . she had moved towards him, speaking softly in concern to him being outside in the cold.
Pot, meet kettle.
Who was she to judge when she'd stayed just as late to mourn, to used to the cold to be bothered to deeply with it. Simply burying the ice and snow that had been her fire and love into her soul and forcing herself to move the frozen limbs, and keep the facade on her face proper. A queen doesn't show pain, doesn't show when she's hurting. She must be strong for her people, even when she thinks she can't go any further, Are you proud of me, mother? Who knew her mother's teachings can be turned to this.
Despite the cold, she lived.
The heart had frozen off the chance of love, of being hurt ever again but she pushed forward, smiled and laughed - made friends and lived her life. Lived for those who could not, wasn't that what she'd promised Shiori? And she prospered to do so, which meant helping others move on and live on as well - even a stallion stoic before a spent candle. She wasn't sure if she broke through to the stallion, he not moving - keeping his defeated stance. Her heart sung with a heavy song, she knew the look well enough, one who'd outlived a love. Perhaps this was a better example for why she couldn't bring herself to light a candle for Tremaine, would she end up in this state of depressed defeat? Arson would be met with fond, but sad memories. Calico would be remembered and sadly relieved he was there for their son among the stars. Tremaine . . . would be her undoing.
He had that affect on her.
The breeze suddenly picked up, and her gaze followed the unkempt mess of his dark tresses, even as her own thick ivory locks billowed around her face, picked up in the wind that was so eager to hold her. Her hooves stayed firmly on the ground as she tried to speak to the other again - but a reply never came, she wasn't even sure if he was aware of her speech, of her concern, until suddenly her final comment had him moving. His jaw lifted, and she had to keep from flinching at the crack to his neck bones - he'd clearly been too long out here.
His eyes were freezing.
Chocolate met Ice, and she couldn't help but be unnerved by the soulless, freezing depths - and perhaps for the first time since she'd made the decision to keep moving forward, she worried if her eyes told her own story of her heart frozen away with out Tremaine's touch, or her son's laughter to warm it up. She squared her shoulders, pushing those worries into the same ball of cold that had been left behind after Tremaine's departure from this world. She didn't want to ponder, or even worry on such thoughts, they would do her no good. She had to keep strong, hold on. She was better than the coldness he'd left behind to cage her heart and fire.
She kept moving, even without him.
Her attention refocused on the male before her, and she tilted her head in obvious concern at his seeming distance. His voice was raspy, nearly croaking as he merely asked a quiet 'What?' Caelum paused, before tilting her head and almost taking on a more stern expression before she let loose a shy and shook her head, those ivory threads dancing around her blue facade, "I take that as it being safe to assume you hadn't caught a word I'd uttered?" She mused softly, even as he seemed to start to piece things together, commenting the cold wasn't so bad. Caela eyed him quietly, letting a soft amount of quiet penetrate the air between them.
No, perhaps the cold wasn't too bad.
Not to those who felt the same within. Caelum wouldn't allow herself to dwell on that. That was the difference in her acts to bury the frozen heart behind walls of her own making to keep the ice from spreading, to keep her able to be out and about and take part in things around her. Yes, the deepest part of her, that should shine bright and warm with love was frozen off and most reflections of that emotion now had a tendency to taste fake to her tongue, but she kept pushing forward, unwilling to let it bury her in the snow and ice it wanted to spread.
She had to be stronger than that.
Her smile was warm, a touch teasing as she eyed the dark stallion, "Oh, yes, the cold isn't all that bad at all - there's only the start of ice growing where water had set, and the air is only cold enough to see your own words fan from your muzzle - it's practically a warm summer night indeed." She shook her head, her gaze gentling, her voice softening, "Or is it more the case you've stopped being able to notice the cold? Still, it begs the question - would the others in your life not feel a since of disappointment to see your neglect of yourself, should you be found by daybreak, frozen in place?" She knew a few friends that should they catch her in the same predicament she'd found him in, that it'd be a total mutiny. She'd have a chaperone, and plenty of interventions for weeks until she could pretend to be normal well enough to pass inspection.
Perhaps it was why she wasn't judging him.
It's hard to judge someone when you're hiding what they must be feeling. Cael had buried the ball of ice and cold into the center of her being, present and frigid, but with enough clouds and sunshine and rainbows that few would know it lay in wait to spread and conquer her attempts to be normal . . . Looking at the dark stallion, she wonders if he had given into that cold . . . "Well, if you don't mind me asking, even if you're not the sort to note the cold, would you walk a lady back to the bonfires?" It was a touch of a ploy - to get him away from the cold, closer to the fires that could spread warmth - and with pleading to most stallions' more chivalrous behavior, she might even succeed. Her muzzle stilled as she awaited his reply - whether it be to take up a verbal spar of not being to cold, or it be an acceptance to walk her from the cold, and thus deliver him to warmth.
"Speech"
Thoughts
@Vikander
