There is a gentleness found in iron fists and a cruelty sleeping in soft words
He spoke prettily enough, cultured and kind and courtly — a swift transformation from the cursing and grouching that had spilled from his lips only moments before. Cerridwen marveled at this ability, to switch between moods and masks as needed. Indeed, the dusk-painted mare had not been cut from a courtier’s cloth, and while she had once attempted to learn such fine-mannered and subtle ways, her clumsy efforts had resulted in not only near-calamity, but had almost started a war.
She pursed her lips at the memory of her battle between that rage filled and strange stallion, her rushed betrothal to the icy prince she had never met, and of her feather-crowned brother in arms’ vitriol at her impulsivity. How artless, how naive she had been, to believe that she could man the helm of a nation and steer it to prosperity while armed only with good intentions. The maiden shook away her thoughts, selfish as they were, and steered her attention back toward her new companion.
Lovis.
He spoke his name with such disdain flashing in those springtime eyes, but it was no matter to the mare, for she cupped those two syllables in her mouth with as much gentleness as she could manage; they tasted sweet and tender, rounded and melodic — a lullaby of sound. Cerridwen repeated her friend’s name silently, committing it to memory and to heart, decidedly precious. Yet, it didn’t escape her, the way his voice caressed the Dawn Court’s true name. Yes, the mottled mahogany stallion wore his heart not upon his sleeve, but on his nation.
Cerridwen had been about to ask something, dawn-smeared lips parting, when she heard pain in Lovis’ voice. No, the mare decided, not pain — agony; pure and nurtured and held in a heart so long that it had taken root in the bones of this exhausted, beautiful man. It was clear from the past tense and the grief that had seized him, that Lovis’s son was no longer able to visit much of anywhere. Cerridwen briefly wondered if he had been carried aloft on a column of smoke similar to the one she had viewed at Luvena’s side only recently.
Reaching over the small distance that stood between them, Cerridwen brushed her tail comfortingly over Lovis’ side, the ivory strands lightly catching here and there over the small hairs of his hide only to drift free as she pulled the appendage away. ”You needn’t worry, Lovis,” Her voice was low, genuine, ”Homesickness can affect us in odd ways, and I understand that you may be off-kilter for some time. Doubtless, bittersweet memories cannot help in keeping one centered, either. Please, divest yourself of whatever tensions you may hold, I need no pleasantries to enjoy your company.” The femme punctuated her words with a smile, fuller this time, one that caused those silvery eyes to shimmer.
”I am here because I want to help,”
And because I want to be.
The unspoken words hung at the end of her sentence, waiting for a stray breeze to sweep them away. The stallion’s next words brought a rosy warmth into Cerridwen’s chest as she thought of her fierce paladin child. ”I do, indeed,” Try as she might, the Fae couldn’t keep the pride from her voice or from her features. ”My Eden. I brought her into the world when I was rather young — Only three Springs — and she is the closest thing to Holy that I think I could ever come to claim as my own.” The mare was happy to discuss her tiny family with him, to divulge any and all details about herself if it would help him climb from whatever poor mood he had been in. ”But I suppose that must be how every parent feels about their child, yes? A love so overwhelming it is acutely painful and joyful all at once.”
@Lovis GOLLY this got away from me. Sorry. I just love him so much
cerridwen
He spoke prettily enough, cultured and kind and courtly — a swift transformation from the cursing and grouching that had spilled from his lips only moments before. Cerridwen marveled at this ability, to switch between moods and masks as needed. Indeed, the dusk-painted mare had not been cut from a courtier’s cloth, and while she had once attempted to learn such fine-mannered and subtle ways, her clumsy efforts had resulted in not only near-calamity, but had almost started a war.
She pursed her lips at the memory of her battle between that rage filled and strange stallion, her rushed betrothal to the icy prince she had never met, and of her feather-crowned brother in arms’ vitriol at her impulsivity. How artless, how naive she had been, to believe that she could man the helm of a nation and steer it to prosperity while armed only with good intentions. The maiden shook away her thoughts, selfish as they were, and steered her attention back toward her new companion.
Lovis.
He spoke his name with such disdain flashing in those springtime eyes, but it was no matter to the mare, for she cupped those two syllables in her mouth with as much gentleness as she could manage; they tasted sweet and tender, rounded and melodic — a lullaby of sound. Cerridwen repeated her friend’s name silently, committing it to memory and to heart, decidedly precious. Yet, it didn’t escape her, the way his voice caressed the Dawn Court’s true name. Yes, the mottled mahogany stallion wore his heart not upon his sleeve, but on his nation.
Cerridwen had been about to ask something, dawn-smeared lips parting, when she heard pain in Lovis’ voice. No, the mare decided, not pain — agony; pure and nurtured and held in a heart so long that it had taken root in the bones of this exhausted, beautiful man. It was clear from the past tense and the grief that had seized him, that Lovis’s son was no longer able to visit much of anywhere. Cerridwen briefly wondered if he had been carried aloft on a column of smoke similar to the one she had viewed at Luvena’s side only recently.
Reaching over the small distance that stood between them, Cerridwen brushed her tail comfortingly over Lovis’ side, the ivory strands lightly catching here and there over the small hairs of his hide only to drift free as she pulled the appendage away. ”You needn’t worry, Lovis,” Her voice was low, genuine, ”Homesickness can affect us in odd ways, and I understand that you may be off-kilter for some time. Doubtless, bittersweet memories cannot help in keeping one centered, either. Please, divest yourself of whatever tensions you may hold, I need no pleasantries to enjoy your company.” The femme punctuated her words with a smile, fuller this time, one that caused those silvery eyes to shimmer.
”I am here because I want to help,”
And because I want to be.
The unspoken words hung at the end of her sentence, waiting for a stray breeze to sweep them away. The stallion’s next words brought a rosy warmth into Cerridwen’s chest as she thought of her fierce paladin child. ”I do, indeed,” Try as she might, the Fae couldn’t keep the pride from her voice or from her features. ”My Eden. I brought her into the world when I was rather young — Only three Springs — and she is the closest thing to Holy that I think I could ever come to claim as my own.” The mare was happy to discuss her tiny family with him, to divulge any and all details about herself if it would help him climb from whatever poor mood he had been in. ”But I suppose that must be how every parent feels about their child, yes? A love so overwhelming it is acutely painful and joyful all at once.”
@
cerridwen
"speech"
