Castalla’s father had always said that peace looked different to each and every soul. To some there was peace in a field of crops, working the land and feeding the many, to others peace might be halls of gold or rooms of books. To Castalla, peace was but a ghost, an echo, out of reach but perhaps not for ever. Though for now peace seemed indeterminately unachievable she knew in her heart that nothing lasted for ever. Perhaps one day, many decades or centuries from now, she might find her peace living in a small cottage in the middle of nowhere or maybe among the cavernous halls of Nightfall, ruling her people and making peace for them. Sometimes Castalla wondered what peace was to those around her, to the majority who’d never known the pain and sacrifice that the Wolf had been dragged through from a young age. Sometimes she envied them, envied their innocence and happiness- even if she understood that everyone went through their own kinds of pain. But she was born to protect people like that, raised to be the one that suffered in order to bring about that kind of ease of mind for others. Whether she would have wanted that or not, it could not be changed and she knew nothing else.
Antiope’s voice broke her reverie, half her attention wandering with her thoughts, but she focused once more, a small smile on her lips as she simply dipped her head elegantly in gratitude. If there was anything Castalla had, it was time.
Trained to read others, to see the quick tell-tale signs hidden behind words and smiles, Castalla does not miss the flash in the mare’s piercing blue gaze- whatever it means. But it is not her place to wonder or consider so she dismisses the curiosity in her mind and listens with her head tilted just slightly, regarding Antiope with a side glance.
Learning that the striped woman was also not a native of Novus surprised the Wolf a little, but she felt a sudden kinship and understanding with this woman of war and peace. “I suppose a festival is a great time to arrive,” she snorts softly, a rueful smile on her lips. She wants to ask the woman how long it took her to feel at home, how long before the nostalgia and loneliness dissipated like breath on the wind, but she didn’t allow herself the amenity of such vulnerability. Instead she casts her gaze to the sky quickly before realising how late it was. “It has been a pleasure to meet you Antiope, but it is late and there is someone I must meet.” She had been steadily building contacts to get a better understanding of the land but the kinds of horses she talked to preferred the cover of night. “I hope we meet again.” With a respectful dip of her head she offers a smile before melting into the crowds.
@Antiope <3
