what happens to a dream deferred?
Another night of sleeping eluding her, another night spent wandering around the Night Markets. There were tired lines in her face and bags beneath her eyes and a restless stirring in her soul that kept her legs moving. She had no answers, had spoken to a goddess and received no answers, and now, the worst of it, was she was beginning to forget the questions. They were losing their shape, becoming fuzzy. Why did it matter? What prodded her, ate at her so, to push her to such insomnia? Why did she matter? What of her dreams? Where had they gone? Had they ever really existed in the first place.
Though he would never abandon her, Oculos was one dumb comment away from letting her spend a nighttimes worth of meandering on her own while he slept. He had tried to tell her, over and over again: of course, she mattered; of course, she’d had dreams, and, honestly, who gave a fuck if they were actually prophetic? Why was her self worth so wrapped up in that? He had no answers, either, but mostly because he thought her questions were dumb.
It was a dewy sort of late summer morning when Katniss called upon her. The chocolate-colored mare had a complexion that always made her look like she was walking in the shining light of a honeycomb-glassed window; her flaxen mane and tail glittered like pale gold. She carried herself with the lift of a warrior and compared to Kass’ bulky, uncoordinated heft, she was like a fine blade moving through space.
Kassandra’s first reaction at being summoned by the Night Court Champion of Battle is an instant feeling of stomach-dropping terror, like she is a small child that has done some disrespectful thing and is about to be brought before the parent for a tongue-lashing, or a real one. It was something she had experienced more than a few times in her life for reasons she still could not understand, even when she sat and really, really thought. It was an odd occurrence, for someone who did not actually have parents.
Still, Katniss seems amiable-- always has, for someone so respected on the battlefield. Before meeting her, Kassandra always imagined the Champion to be blusterous and burly and always in some stage of blood-covered. Children’s nightmares, she later found out. “Of course, my lady,” Kassandra says, a smile finding it’s way to her face despite her exhaustion. It is genuine, as she usually is. Kassandra likes living, and she likes people, and though she doesn’t realize it, the act of someone seeking her out fills her with more self confidence than she’d had in ages. “I would love to break my fast with you.”
She follows Katniss over to the grassy spot in question and waits politely for the higher-ranking mare to choose her spot before Kass chooses her own. “I apologize for not being able to provide anything for this get together, I… wasn’t planning on eating quite yet.” It was an obvious statement (who plans to bring fodder to an impromptu picnic?) and also a lie. Kassandra had not eaten a real meal in as long as she had not slept a full night.
Oculos tucked his haunches in a sit and took up a spot by his companion, waiting for the food to be doled out, ears at full perk.
“I have to say I’m really appreciative of how you’ve handled all the recent changes,” Kassandra said, earnest, “I can only imagine it must be quite difficult for someone as devoted as you to stand their ground while everything… shifts so drastically.”
Though he would never abandon her, Oculos was one dumb comment away from letting her spend a nighttimes worth of meandering on her own while he slept. He had tried to tell her, over and over again: of course, she mattered; of course, she’d had dreams, and, honestly, who gave a fuck if they were actually prophetic? Why was her self worth so wrapped up in that? He had no answers, either, but mostly because he thought her questions were dumb.
It was a dewy sort of late summer morning when Katniss called upon her. The chocolate-colored mare had a complexion that always made her look like she was walking in the shining light of a honeycomb-glassed window; her flaxen mane and tail glittered like pale gold. She carried herself with the lift of a warrior and compared to Kass’ bulky, uncoordinated heft, she was like a fine blade moving through space.
Kassandra’s first reaction at being summoned by the Night Court Champion of Battle is an instant feeling of stomach-dropping terror, like she is a small child that has done some disrespectful thing and is about to be brought before the parent for a tongue-lashing, or a real one. It was something she had experienced more than a few times in her life for reasons she still could not understand, even when she sat and really, really thought. It was an odd occurrence, for someone who did not actually have parents.
Still, Katniss seems amiable-- always has, for someone so respected on the battlefield. Before meeting her, Kassandra always imagined the Champion to be blusterous and burly and always in some stage of blood-covered. Children’s nightmares, she later found out. “Of course, my lady,” Kassandra says, a smile finding it’s way to her face despite her exhaustion. It is genuine, as she usually is. Kassandra likes living, and she likes people, and though she doesn’t realize it, the act of someone seeking her out fills her with more self confidence than she’d had in ages. “I would love to break my fast with you.”
She follows Katniss over to the grassy spot in question and waits politely for the higher-ranking mare to choose her spot before Kass chooses her own. “I apologize for not being able to provide anything for this get together, I… wasn’t planning on eating quite yet.” It was an obvious statement (who plans to bring fodder to an impromptu picnic?) and also a lie. Kassandra had not eaten a real meal in as long as she had not slept a full night.
Oculos tucked his haunches in a sit and took up a spot by his companion, waiting for the food to be doled out, ears at full perk.
“I have to say I’m really appreciative of how you’ve handled all the recent changes,” Kassandra said, earnest, “I can only imagine it must be quite difficult for someone as devoted as you to stand their ground while everything… shifts so drastically.”
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"Speech."
