"It is a delight to make your acquaintance, Miss Thomasin."
Over her four – almost five – years of life, Thomasin had naturally heard her name countless times. Her mother, Emmaline, had usually said it with disdain or indifference, yet her father Abraham called to her in a sing-song nature, very rarely did he raise his voice to her. But the lamb had yet to meet someone who spoke her name like it was molten chocolate. Out of the pale mistress’s mouth, Thomasin actually believed her name sounded beautiful – even if just for a fleeting moment.
She said she was delighted.
The dusty mare could feel herself glowing at that comment, a brief bout of bashfulness that she could feel in the leaves of her ribcage flora; the ferns and flowers of her vascular system perked up as if just watered, as if the words Thomasin captured in her large doe ears were liquid sunshine. She had once heard that if spoken to nicely plants will thrive, versus ignored or even worse – belittled. Respectfully, she was certain Valan was using her elegance and tact to speak, but Thomasin chose to believe that she genuinely meant it just a little. Her heart did a skip-happy dance, and sheepishly she raised her eyes to meet the rosy gaze of the mare. “The pleasure is all mine, Miss Valan.”
As Valan continued to speak, Thomasin awaited each syllable on baited breath, hungry to know if she was here to share the gift of praise. A flickering look of disappointment danced across her face as the other had admitted that she believed that neither Caligo or her divine counterparts would ever care to listen. Immediately, the petite dryad felt compelled to reach out in comfort, for the assumption that the Gods would be blind or deaf to her worship was a theory they once shared. She, too, believed at one point in her life that Caligo could never bless a meek and fragile thing like her. Instead of speaking, Thomasin chose to remain quiet and attentive – her stare no longer meandering and seeking comfort, but settled softly on the face of this stranger. With her shoulders relaxed, and her tiny head raised, she hoped through her body language that she could portray her willingness to listen.
This lovely creature, for just a moment, seemed melancholy. A self-proclaimed prisoner of the dark. Thomasin only gently tipped her head in acknowledgement, before lifting her chin to encourage Valan to continue speaking. Despite doing her best to be a good audience and a lending ear, trying to piece together the cryptic words that Valan spoke was like arranging the pieces of an unfamiliar puzzle. Who was this mysterious woman entertaining in the night? What kind of life was she leading if she was not welcome on holy ground? As she chewed on her thought process, Thomasin tilted her head at an acute angle, appearing a bit quizzical. Perhaps she is a lady of the night.
That made sense. The lavish accessories, her beautiful cosmetics, the way her presence seemed to silently demand your attention. Instinctively, she wished to recede. She knew she was not well versed in pleasures outside of worship, and was not sure if it was her place to comment on such a lifestyle. If she were to follow her mother’s example, she should chastise this creature for the career path she had chosen – redemption was not far if she would just ask for it.
A pain in her heart made Thomasin turn her face away from Valan and the sculpt of Caligo. Her father’s words echoed in her memories: Don’t judge them, my lamb. It’s not the way of Caligo. When you leave home, you will meet a magical assortment of characters. All of them, every single one, whether they align with you or not, deserves grace. Show them grace.
With what little might she had, Thomasin took a deep breath to prepare herself. “Pardon my boldness, but I believe you might be a little . . . wrong, Miss Valan.” She deflated instantly, biting on her lower lip in hopes that she would not enrage the winter flame; she was thrilled that the hardest part of speaking her opinion had passed. “You are welcome here at all times. Worship works well in pairs if you ever need an ear to listen; Perhaps you are entertaining the wrong patrons.”
A warm simper curled the corners of her lips. Her fawn ears drooped against the back of her skull in a humble fashion as she pivoted towards the monument that was her Goddess, temporarily exposing the gaping biome in her body. “Fear should not be our motivator when giving praise to the almighty. I make my affirmations daily - I choose to kneel because my devotions are simply an act of love and gratefulness for the life that I have lived.”
“I choose to respect you and accept your lifestyle – just as I believe Caligo herself would. If you are at home in the night, so be it. You are in Denocte. We all live in the night.” She faced Valan once more, the homeliness of her smile genuine, her raincloud eyes tender and inviting as she studied the way the candlelight played on the gilded veins of the other opposite of her. It would take more than an escort to push away Thomasin or her faith. She bowed her head a half-step in respect.
“You are a work of the Gods, and like all tangible and wonderful works, you too deserve my praise.”
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"talking." thinking.
tagged: @Valan
vibing to: X
