Caelum
throw on your dress and put on your doll faces
everyone thinks that we're perfect
please don't let them look through the curtains
She feels the caress of Summer still.
Perhaps it has already begun to live inside her. A phantom memory that remains just outside of her reach. A melody that sounds familiar, or a scent that she recognizes but cannot place. It was odd, to think the heir of Summer itself didn't want to embrace the season she was blessed by. But could one blame her, she was also the one who fell it. Oh, how Summer would leave a melancholy twang in her belly, souring in her mouth where once she embraced it. She hoped, almost feverishly, that when the time came, when she healed from the pain and suffrage she forced upon herself, she might dance in that light again.
For now, she waited quietly for fall.
She hadn't initially intended for company, not when she set out, not really. And yet, here she was, glancing down upon a spotted stallion, startled to have crossed paths, her expression touching with soft embarrament, gentle concern, to see him spook, stumbling slightly. Her ears flicked forward, chocolate gaze observing the fellow, "Oh, are you alright? I am so, dreadfully sorry to have startled you." Yet he smiled, his own greeting followed by a light chuckle, and she had to offer a faint smile at the idea of life without surprises. There's been some surprises she could have done with out, "As long as it is a good surprise, I can understand the sentiment." She mused with a light and airy laugh. Carefree, open, welcoming.
She felt like she was broadcasting a lie.
A well practiced lie, so naturally she could even trick herself some days. But a lie nonetheless. Still, she fluttered down to rest upon a rock, avoiding the land that would have erupted in flowers as soon as she touched it. It didn't stop the light dotting of lily pads and flowers that bloomed up where the fae dust from her wings touched down, an unfortunate development she hadn't expected. She distracts herself with his name. Creamsicle. Perhaps it was proof she was becoming so used to this odd land, that the name didn't feel as foreign as it might have when she first came to Novus. Instead she elegantly dips her head, a sweeping curtsey more fit for a ballroom than a creek. But he asks about Denocte. And this time her smile is real, so bright it puts her fake one to shame, "Yes, Denocte is the home for the Night Court, on the other side of the Arma Mountains. It is . . . Home." And for the runaway fae queen, that was priceless.
"Speech"
Thoughts
@Creamsicle
Notes: <3
Perhaps it has already begun to live inside her. A phantom memory that remains just outside of her reach. A melody that sounds familiar, or a scent that she recognizes but cannot place. It was odd, to think the heir of Summer itself didn't want to embrace the season she was blessed by. But could one blame her, she was also the one who fell it. Oh, how Summer would leave a melancholy twang in her belly, souring in her mouth where once she embraced it. She hoped, almost feverishly, that when the time came, when she healed from the pain and suffrage she forced upon herself, she might dance in that light again.
For now, she waited quietly for fall.
She hadn't initially intended for company, not when she set out, not really. And yet, here she was, glancing down upon a spotted stallion, startled to have crossed paths, her expression touching with soft embarrament, gentle concern, to see him spook, stumbling slightly. Her ears flicked forward, chocolate gaze observing the fellow, "Oh, are you alright? I am so, dreadfully sorry to have startled you." Yet he smiled, his own greeting followed by a light chuckle, and she had to offer a faint smile at the idea of life without surprises. There's been some surprises she could have done with out, "As long as it is a good surprise, I can understand the sentiment." She mused with a light and airy laugh. Carefree, open, welcoming.
She felt like she was broadcasting a lie.
A well practiced lie, so naturally she could even trick herself some days. But a lie nonetheless. Still, she fluttered down to rest upon a rock, avoiding the land that would have erupted in flowers as soon as she touched it. It didn't stop the light dotting of lily pads and flowers that bloomed up where the fae dust from her wings touched down, an unfortunate development she hadn't expected. She distracts herself with his name. Creamsicle. Perhaps it was proof she was becoming so used to this odd land, that the name didn't feel as foreign as it might have when she first came to Novus. Instead she elegantly dips her head, a sweeping curtsey more fit for a ballroom than a creek. But he asks about Denocte. And this time her smile is real, so bright it puts her fake one to shame, "Yes, Denocte is the home for the Night Court, on the other side of the Arma Mountains. It is . . . Home." And for the runaway fae queen, that was priceless.
"Speech"
Thoughts
@Creamsicle
Notes: <3
pose with your brother, won't you be a good sister?
everyone thinks that we're perfect
please don't let them look through the curtains
art by bingo
