Caelum
i've had just enough time"
Seasons change.
It's a natural way of life, it seems; once you leave the faerie realm. A fact Caelum had not been aware of until she left after Arson's untimely end. Sure, there where slight changes for the passing of time, when certain fruit and vegetables went into season, what flowers blossomed. But the apple trees were always ready to harvest, the sun was always shining, the grass was always green, the trees always full of vibrant leaves. The world was alive and set in a forever state just between spring and summer, a forever kind of beautiful piece. Experiencing the cycling of the seasons was something new.
And then there was change.
Too much seemed to always be changing, and while Caelum never feared the normal kind of change: making new friends, or seeing new places. It was the changes that rework your whole world that she'd grown to fear. The loss of a loved one, the destruction of your home. The changes that broke your heart and then shredded for good measure before feeding pieces to the surrounding wolves waiting to devour it. Caelum had grown to fear those kinds of change in such a way she had sworn off love, for fear of the past repeating a fourth time. She had a limit for how close she would let her friends get, for fear of them being destroyed by her need to do good. And doing good, it was available in limited amounts, thanks to the irrational fear that it would all come ending with out her being prepared for it. That she'd be forced to make the hard decision between 'doing something good for others' and 'saving those she loved.'
She'd lost her world for someone else already.
She didn't wish for a repeat. So, even now, smiling kindly to the stranger, and eagerly partaking in conversation, she played her hand close to her chest, and kept conversation light, easy and away from who she was, and who she once was. She tilted her head with a warm smile when he admitted to growing up in coastal waters, her eyes widening at this information, "Oh, so you're probably a good way from home, I imagine that you're probably used to something with much warmer temperatures, aren't you?" She asked curiously, "I've never been into the ocean myself," She added with a smile, "Or at least, not submerged beyond my upper legs" Her wings fluttered, drawing the attention to them as she explained why: "If these little appendages get wet, drying them is absolute abysmal; and takes forever. And not being able to fly while their wet is not a pleasant experience. I prefer flying to walking."
If only for a faster means of escape.
She grew up raised that a flying fae was a safe fae - with more options to escape. Even today, she might land to talk to someone, but any movement was done with in the air if she could. It was where she felt the most comfortable - and being able to avoid brush that might want to tangle at her tresses, or branches wanting to tear at her wings was better too. She drew her attention back to the odd creature however, as she introduced himself, and she found herself correct in his odd appearance. Shark, and a unique species at that. Carcharhinus Equus Ferus. The simple term variation was much less impressive however, and she smiled faintly, "Perhaps you should stick to the full, proper name. I'm afraid the simplified version is a little . . . to the face."
Her smiled assured no offence.
He did introduce himself, Trey. The name struck a cord, and Caelum's breath caught in her throat. For a moment another image superimposed over the shark creature before her, his grin charming and seductive, with a darkness that appealed to her never ending light. Thick curls of glossy black against a dark grulla body, as he flashed a fanged smile and winked one red eye in an unspoken promise of plenty of flirting and fun. And then he was a gone again, and she forced herself not to buckle at the knee, to not lose control of her emotions, of the effect his name had on her. Trey . . . . Her Tremaine, why did he have his name. She swallowed hard, schooling her features quickly, and she forced herself to remain calm, to remain polite. To harness her mother, to shove the memories of her beloved, the one soul she can't ignore the loss (beyond the early death of her son), "Well met, T=Trey." Her voice catches at his name, and she silent swears to never use it again, forget being proper with correctly addressing another. She can't do it.
She can't use that name.
Instead she focuses hard, all of her attention needing to be polite, almost stiffly so, harnessing the powers of the prim and proper princess that she had been raised to be, letting her mother's teachings distract her from the memories that would do more damage than good to her delicate mind at the moment. "It is a pleasure: to make your acquaintance. It's always delightful to come across a friendly face in one's travels." It was an almost overly polite greeting, but sometimes it's hard to ignore the way you're raised, and being a proper princess who would bring pride to her station, kingdom and people had been drilled into her from a very, very, very young age. Everything she did would reflect back onto the title and crown, and to always be on your best behavior. Even with the kingdom in ruined, and being the last surviving member of the crown . . . she couldn't ignore her mother's careful tutelage . . . and it helped keep her mother's spirit alive.
Like she was still here.
It was a safer reaction that trying to keep his memory alive. He was gone, and pretending otherwise would just hurt her heart more. His next words had her smile dropping instantly, shattering what little control she had regained, asking for her story. She froze for a moment, a swirl of emotion in her eyes before her entire expression blanked. It was like dropping a mask over a face, a perfected, stoic appearance emerging. The right hint of a smile to be seen as comfortable. The right tilt to the head, the right raising of the chin. The lines were in perfect form, the expression was serene, but strong . . . . . and empty. It was the mask you would wear when sitting on the thrown handling the worst of the most selfish pleas of the kingdom, or when partaking in trades, and treaty talks with others. When you had to hide your emotions and put forth your best hoof anyways.
It was a mask she used when needed now.
It was a mask to hide the pain of that question, "Oh, there's really no story. A need to find a new place to call . . . my own space. A bit of exploring, change of scenery - you know, the usual sort of thing when you want to experience a new type of life. Nothing to really tell, very boring." Her voice even carried a professional air, as if soothing a villager about a problem that simply could not be solved. But there was a story, of heartbreak and pain behind that face, a story she had no intention to sharing. A story that would rip her heart open if she had to speak about it again.
A warm at her chest.
It hummed against her skin, pulsating from the necklace, causing her gaze to casually drift down to the stone, and that breath caught in her throat again. It had been pulsating far more frequently after coming to Novus. Too many proding questions, too many wanting to know about her, to figure her out. Too many situations that upset her, set her ill at ease . . . But just as he had intended, the necklace was a warm reminder that she wasn't alone. Except now, now it's a warm reminder that I am alone! That you left me, that you're not here! Every warm touch of the necklace is a reminder that your hide isn't here to lean on. That I'll never feel your heat again. That what we had is gone, BECAUSE YOU ARE GONE! The stone grew warmer as if to battle her feelings, and her thoughts, and Caelum's eyes drifted shut beneath a safety barrier of her forelock, obscuring her features from the male, keeping her privacy as she controlled herself.
As she shoved these thoughts into their box.
As she shoved his memory back into its' box, buried deep in the center of her heart, and rebuilding the walls up around it. Buried deep, where the pain of his loss didn't need to be dealt with. Where she could focus on the situation on hand. Where she could focus on this Trey instead. Couldn't he have a different name, "So, you said you're searching for your friend? What is her name? Perhaps I've seen her in my travels? I've met an odd few souls in Novus thus far. It's remarkable the kind of beings you see, and meet," She forced her tone light, welcoming - pushing the conversation forward in an unmistakable change of subject.
Some topics were just untouchable.
"Speech"
Thoughts
@Trevelyan
It's a natural way of life, it seems; once you leave the faerie realm. A fact Caelum had not been aware of until she left after Arson's untimely end. Sure, there where slight changes for the passing of time, when certain fruit and vegetables went into season, what flowers blossomed. But the apple trees were always ready to harvest, the sun was always shining, the grass was always green, the trees always full of vibrant leaves. The world was alive and set in a forever state just between spring and summer, a forever kind of beautiful piece. Experiencing the cycling of the seasons was something new.
And then there was change.
Too much seemed to always be changing, and while Caelum never feared the normal kind of change: making new friends, or seeing new places. It was the changes that rework your whole world that she'd grown to fear. The loss of a loved one, the destruction of your home. The changes that broke your heart and then shredded for good measure before feeding pieces to the surrounding wolves waiting to devour it. Caelum had grown to fear those kinds of change in such a way she had sworn off love, for fear of the past repeating a fourth time. She had a limit for how close she would let her friends get, for fear of them being destroyed by her need to do good. And doing good, it was available in limited amounts, thanks to the irrational fear that it would all come ending with out her being prepared for it. That she'd be forced to make the hard decision between 'doing something good for others' and 'saving those she loved.'
She'd lost her world for someone else already.
She didn't wish for a repeat. So, even now, smiling kindly to the stranger, and eagerly partaking in conversation, she played her hand close to her chest, and kept conversation light, easy and away from who she was, and who she once was. She tilted her head with a warm smile when he admitted to growing up in coastal waters, her eyes widening at this information, "Oh, so you're probably a good way from home, I imagine that you're probably used to something with much warmer temperatures, aren't you?" She asked curiously, "I've never been into the ocean myself," She added with a smile, "Or at least, not submerged beyond my upper legs" Her wings fluttered, drawing the attention to them as she explained why: "If these little appendages get wet, drying them is absolute abysmal; and takes forever. And not being able to fly while their wet is not a pleasant experience. I prefer flying to walking."
If only for a faster means of escape.
She grew up raised that a flying fae was a safe fae - with more options to escape. Even today, she might land to talk to someone, but any movement was done with in the air if she could. It was where she felt the most comfortable - and being able to avoid brush that might want to tangle at her tresses, or branches wanting to tear at her wings was better too. She drew her attention back to the odd creature however, as she introduced himself, and she found herself correct in his odd appearance. Shark, and a unique species at that. Carcharhinus Equus Ferus. The simple term variation was much less impressive however, and she smiled faintly, "Perhaps you should stick to the full, proper name. I'm afraid the simplified version is a little . . . to the face."
Her smiled assured no offence.
He did introduce himself, Trey. The name struck a cord, and Caelum's breath caught in her throat. For a moment another image superimposed over the shark creature before her, his grin charming and seductive, with a darkness that appealed to her never ending light. Thick curls of glossy black against a dark grulla body, as he flashed a fanged smile and winked one red eye in an unspoken promise of plenty of flirting and fun. And then he was a gone again, and she forced herself not to buckle at the knee, to not lose control of her emotions, of the effect his name had on her. Trey . . . . Her Tremaine, why did he have his name. She swallowed hard, schooling her features quickly, and she forced herself to remain calm, to remain polite. To harness her mother, to shove the memories of her beloved, the one soul she can't ignore the loss (beyond the early death of her son), "Well met, T=Trey." Her voice catches at his name, and she silent swears to never use it again, forget being proper with correctly addressing another. She can't do it.
She can't use that name.
Instead she focuses hard, all of her attention needing to be polite, almost stiffly so, harnessing the powers of the prim and proper princess that she had been raised to be, letting her mother's teachings distract her from the memories that would do more damage than good to her delicate mind at the moment. "It is a pleasure: to make your acquaintance. It's always delightful to come across a friendly face in one's travels." It was an almost overly polite greeting, but sometimes it's hard to ignore the way you're raised, and being a proper princess who would bring pride to her station, kingdom and people had been drilled into her from a very, very, very young age. Everything she did would reflect back onto the title and crown, and to always be on your best behavior. Even with the kingdom in ruined, and being the last surviving member of the crown . . . she couldn't ignore her mother's careful tutelage . . . and it helped keep her mother's spirit alive.
Like she was still here.
It was a safer reaction that trying to keep his memory alive. He was gone, and pretending otherwise would just hurt her heart more. His next words had her smile dropping instantly, shattering what little control she had regained, asking for her story. She froze for a moment, a swirl of emotion in her eyes before her entire expression blanked. It was like dropping a mask over a face, a perfected, stoic appearance emerging. The right hint of a smile to be seen as comfortable. The right tilt to the head, the right raising of the chin. The lines were in perfect form, the expression was serene, but strong . . . . . and empty. It was the mask you would wear when sitting on the thrown handling the worst of the most selfish pleas of the kingdom, or when partaking in trades, and treaty talks with others. When you had to hide your emotions and put forth your best hoof anyways.
It was a mask she used when needed now.
It was a mask to hide the pain of that question, "Oh, there's really no story. A need to find a new place to call . . . my own space. A bit of exploring, change of scenery - you know, the usual sort of thing when you want to experience a new type of life. Nothing to really tell, very boring." Her voice even carried a professional air, as if soothing a villager about a problem that simply could not be solved. But there was a story, of heartbreak and pain behind that face, a story she had no intention to sharing. A story that would rip her heart open if she had to speak about it again.
A warm at her chest.
It hummed against her skin, pulsating from the necklace, causing her gaze to casually drift down to the stone, and that breath caught in her throat again. It had been pulsating far more frequently after coming to Novus. Too many proding questions, too many wanting to know about her, to figure her out. Too many situations that upset her, set her ill at ease . . . But just as he had intended, the necklace was a warm reminder that she wasn't alone. Except now, now it's a warm reminder that I am alone! That you left me, that you're not here! Every warm touch of the necklace is a reminder that your hide isn't here to lean on. That I'll never feel your heat again. That what we had is gone, BECAUSE YOU ARE GONE! The stone grew warmer as if to battle her feelings, and her thoughts, and Caelum's eyes drifted shut beneath a safety barrier of her forelock, obscuring her features from the male, keeping her privacy as she controlled herself.
As she shoved these thoughts into their box.
As she shoved his memory back into its' box, buried deep in the center of her heart, and rebuilding the walls up around it. Buried deep, where the pain of his loss didn't need to be dealt with. Where she could focus on the situation on hand. Where she could focus on this Trey instead. Couldn't he have a different name, "So, you said you're searching for your friend? What is her name? Perhaps I've seen her in my travels? I've met an odd few souls in Novus thus far. It's remarkable the kind of beings you see, and meet," She forced her tone light, welcoming - pushing the conversation forward in an unmistakable change of subject.
Some topics were just untouchable.
"Speech"
Thoughts
@Trevelyan
