i'm insane
well, i can feel it in my bones
coursing through my veins,
when did i become so cold?
well, i can feel it in my bones
coursing through my veins,
when did i become so cold?
The air was changing. The very feeling of this meeting. What had started out as friendly seemed to be continuing to sour, and Valan found herself in a state of expectation. Expecting the fear, the pleading, the tears, the eventual running. The wind whipped through the area, whistling off walls. Flames seemed to dance, and Valan looked towards those candles briefly, unaware of the altering of her own image in Thomasin's eyes. Unaware the lamb was seeing the predator, and was now waiting for the attack.
There was a lot about Thomasin she wasn't seeing yet, she wouldn't be able to see without more information on the young mare. So much unknown that it reminded Valan, she herself was still an unknown. A stranger to even her own court, despite how long she'd been there . . . She'd been part of Dusk for ages. But she had grown bored, she had grown tired, and so she had slept for years beneath the soil. Until her beloved master had woken her ever so gently. The kind stallion who'd given her a second shot at life, and didn't fault her for her unique way of living as a vampire.
Even among vampires, she felt odd. She was too weak for a vampire, unwilling to hunt, to feed, to dominate. She was too much of a monster for mortals, tainted by the blood lust of her fellows. She was in a slot all her own. Alone, but desperate for a friend. Afraid, but desperate to prove herself. And wanting, oh how much she wanted so, so much. She'd thought she'd found a sense of that with Thomasin. A friend, someone to turn to. And now, because of her own foolish mouth, she'd ruined it. Her fault. Soon the young mare would run, would escape, and Valan would be left alone in the dark - again.
What kind of life was that, that she was leading? Her heart tore in half, seeing the tears start to fall down the other mare's cheeks. Instantly Valan had taken a step forward, her muzzle dropping open in horror, shame; reaching it to comfort. She paused, however, hesitating, and then drawing back, taking a step away. Her fault, it was her fault. Thomasin was afraid, so afraid with her. The tears were proof. Valan turned slightly, her head ducking towards her chest, wild curls falling around her face, obscuring the pain, the shame on her own features in those brief moments.
She couldn't risk touching, breaking something else. So instead she'd told the truth. What little else could she do. Still, Valan was frozen as the other flinched at the candlelight, the way she seemed to wait for Valan to attack. Wait for Valan to prove her monstrous tendencies. To prove she was such a dangerous being. So Valan did the only thing she could do, swearing before the goddess the little lamb seemed to care so much for. When her eyes lifted slowly, Valan found herself frozen in them. She didn't move. She didn't breathe. The one look seemed to have turned her into a statue as she stared back into those reddened eyes, the tears having made dark tracks against the fur of Thomasin's cheeks. Valan couldn't bring herself to do anything - waiting for the hateful words, the cries to never come near - the coming escape.
The fact she was about to be left alone. Again. A friendless vampire who just wanted to feel connections. Why wouldn't they leave? She'd seen it before. Get to close, see the fangs. The stallions would come together as a mob, waving torches, and shooting at her with silver-tipped arrows, chasing her from whatever home she'd claimed with stakes of any random bits of wood. The screams that she was preying on the children. Seducing the husbands. Murdering the herds. Would Thomasin leave, only to return to a mob. Would she be chased out of Night Court, unable to return? Would Thomasin aim a stake at her heart? Monster. Villian. Murderer. Blood-Sucker. Leech. Vampire
What she was not expecting, however; was the apology. It was a whisper, intermingled with sniffles. Valan wondered if this was the apology before the betrayal. Could you be betrayed by someone you only just met? Did it require more than a little bit of time conversing? Valan, however, had finally found herself drawing in a breath again, shifting away, finally unfolding herself from the embrace of the other's eyes. Instead, her gaze returned to the ground, pale pink eyes seeming to lower as she paused, she waited, she expected the dismissal. Her ears perked, her entire body seeming to flinch when Thomasin admitted she was afraid of her. Of course, she was, why wouldn't she be. She could hear it in the way her voice shook, in the way her breath seemed to wobble. And then . . . she called herself weak.
Valan was raised a lady, a lady of extremely high society, meant to be a queen of a country. She had impeccable manners, was well learned, and knew to put her best hoof forward and always be presentable. She knew to be courteous, she knew to be gentle, she knew to never be insulting. And she knew you never interrupted in another. For Thomasin, she broke that rule, "Miss Thomasin! How could you ever condone calling yourself weak? You stand before me, now; despite being afraid; I believe that, in and of itself; to be bravery. When you look a predator in the eye, and you refuse to give in, no matter the fear. That is bravery, that is not weakness!" It hurt, calling herself a predator, but perhaps, the more she encouraged these thoughts, the faster Thomasin would leave.
The sooner Valan felt the coming pain of abandonment, the sooner she'd get over it again. The sooner she could try again, move on, and eventually understand that solitude would just have to be her future. But that didn't mean she would sit back and allow Thomasin to deny her own strengths. The smaller mare turned, her gaze on the goddess, and at her next words, Valan found herself frozen once more. Choosing . . . to believe that she wasn't to harm her? That she was not a monster, just . . . unfamiliar. The weakness was back in Valan's eyes, waiting for the ball to drop, the coming cruel laughter as she was led into a trap, for surely that must be what came next.
Valan was never accepted once others found out who she was, what she was. Then those words and Valan's gaze moved up to the statue, swallowing hard at the cursed four-letter word. The word that seemed to have ruined her life too many times to count. "I don't need love." The denial came quickly, but it was spoken with a quiver to the vampire's voice, a weakness, a fair of that four-letter word that had destroyed her whole world. "I do not deserve love."
Then she realized why she was so on edge, why she was waiting - Thomasin was calming down. Was this to be the calm before the storm? The pause before her destruction? And then those eyes met her own pale ones, and the mare with a garden to her chest startled the vampire into silence. The words spoken were what Valan tried so hard to achieve, and yet, all of a sudden she felt like it was a sham, that she had played a part, and now Thomasin had a copy of her playbook and was pointing out all the areas where it was wrong. To think, her mannerisms would be a cause of fear even before her fangs were seen. To be intimidating . . . . it was not what the vampiress wanted.
And then Thomasin spoke of herself, of elegance and beauty she couldn't reach, of not being ethereal, being one of disgust, oddity, burdensome. Valan didn't know what to say, not at the moment; because the words that were leaving Thomasin now, were the last ones Valan would have used. And then Thomasin was moving. Once more Valan froze, not breathing, not moving, turning herself into a living statue and she suddenly found herself far more afraid than she'd been in front of any other being.
The approach slowed, but Valan didn't immediately relax, her ears still pitched forward, listening to everything the little mare was saying. But . . . but those words, perhaps they were what she'd always wanted to hear, to not have to do it alone. Paired with the small smile, so warm, so inviting, Valan felt herself blinking, and in that rare moment, despite her vampiric nature, the tears welled up in her own eyes, dripping slightly down the stained black marks along her cheek, "You're wrong." She whispered so softly, it was like a breath into the distance between them. "You're not weak." She repeated, her words soft, but sure, "You're body may not be as strong as others. I cannot fathom the struggles of growing a garden in one's chest; surely. But if you've shown me anything of yourself today Miss Thomasin, it's that you have a remarkable strength of spirit. You ignore your fears, to stay here, to talk to me. You don't beat around the bush, you speak to get your point across, no matter what the content of your story may be.
"It is true, you do not know my burdens, or where I'm meant to be in this world, but you have the strength to admit it as well." Valan admitted softly, before she took a soft breath, her muzzle dropping, gently touching the dormant flower at her shoulder, caressing the petals that would have snuggled back if not for the fact they slept. Even with Rosario clinging to her body, she felt so alone, or she had . . . prior to this moment now. "You are correct, it has turned into quite the . . . conversation." She does smile back, but Valan's muzzle is closed, carefully hiding those shameful fangs, even as she pauses at the request, hesitating, uncertain, before finally nodding, "Of course Mi-, Thomasin, as you wish."
She pauses then, unsure of what to say, what to do, before she looks up slowly, cautiously, "If I may allow me to introduce myself properly then." Valan feels a sudden shyness, a sense she hadn't felt in a long time. It was like she was back in time, a young mare introducing herself to proper society for the first time again, "I am Valantine De'Chrys; Lady of House De'Chrys, although the name itself has been forgotten in time." She shifts into a playful curtsy, even as there is a vulnerability in her gaze, "Perhaps, you'd permit me the time that way may continue . . . our discussions. It's . . . been a truly long time since I've been able to have a company with another . . . and I have only recently woken up from four or five-hundred-year hibernation." She pauses, before she smiles beautifully, a controlled smile that keeps her fangs hidden, "And I find myself curious of the mortal who is willing to keep company with a vampire." Maybe for just a bit longer, she could keep this feeling of not being alone.
@Thomasin
There was a lot about Thomasin she wasn't seeing yet, she wouldn't be able to see without more information on the young mare. So much unknown that it reminded Valan, she herself was still an unknown. A stranger to even her own court, despite how long she'd been there . . . She'd been part of Dusk for ages. But she had grown bored, she had grown tired, and so she had slept for years beneath the soil. Until her beloved master had woken her ever so gently. The kind stallion who'd given her a second shot at life, and didn't fault her for her unique way of living as a vampire.
Even among vampires, she felt odd. She was too weak for a vampire, unwilling to hunt, to feed, to dominate. She was too much of a monster for mortals, tainted by the blood lust of her fellows. She was in a slot all her own. Alone, but desperate for a friend. Afraid, but desperate to prove herself. And wanting, oh how much she wanted so, so much. She'd thought she'd found a sense of that with Thomasin. A friend, someone to turn to. And now, because of her own foolish mouth, she'd ruined it. Her fault. Soon the young mare would run, would escape, and Valan would be left alone in the dark - again.
What kind of life was that, that she was leading? Her heart tore in half, seeing the tears start to fall down the other mare's cheeks. Instantly Valan had taken a step forward, her muzzle dropping open in horror, shame; reaching it to comfort. She paused, however, hesitating, and then drawing back, taking a step away. Her fault, it was her fault. Thomasin was afraid, so afraid with her. The tears were proof. Valan turned slightly, her head ducking towards her chest, wild curls falling around her face, obscuring the pain, the shame on her own features in those brief moments.
She couldn't risk touching, breaking something else. So instead she'd told the truth. What little else could she do. Still, Valan was frozen as the other flinched at the candlelight, the way she seemed to wait for Valan to attack. Wait for Valan to prove her monstrous tendencies. To prove she was such a dangerous being. So Valan did the only thing she could do, swearing before the goddess the little lamb seemed to care so much for. When her eyes lifted slowly, Valan found herself frozen in them. She didn't move. She didn't breathe. The one look seemed to have turned her into a statue as she stared back into those reddened eyes, the tears having made dark tracks against the fur of Thomasin's cheeks. Valan couldn't bring herself to do anything - waiting for the hateful words, the cries to never come near - the coming escape.
The fact she was about to be left alone. Again. A friendless vampire who just wanted to feel connections. Why wouldn't they leave? She'd seen it before. Get to close, see the fangs. The stallions would come together as a mob, waving torches, and shooting at her with silver-tipped arrows, chasing her from whatever home she'd claimed with stakes of any random bits of wood. The screams that she was preying on the children. Seducing the husbands. Murdering the herds. Would Thomasin leave, only to return to a mob. Would she be chased out of Night Court, unable to return? Would Thomasin aim a stake at her heart? Monster. Villian. Murderer. Blood-Sucker. Leech. Vampire
What she was not expecting, however; was the apology. It was a whisper, intermingled with sniffles. Valan wondered if this was the apology before the betrayal. Could you be betrayed by someone you only just met? Did it require more than a little bit of time conversing? Valan, however, had finally found herself drawing in a breath again, shifting away, finally unfolding herself from the embrace of the other's eyes. Instead, her gaze returned to the ground, pale pink eyes seeming to lower as she paused, she waited, she expected the dismissal. Her ears perked, her entire body seeming to flinch when Thomasin admitted she was afraid of her. Of course, she was, why wouldn't she be. She could hear it in the way her voice shook, in the way her breath seemed to wobble. And then . . . she called herself weak.
Valan was raised a lady, a lady of extremely high society, meant to be a queen of a country. She had impeccable manners, was well learned, and knew to put her best hoof forward and always be presentable. She knew to be courteous, she knew to be gentle, she knew to never be insulting. And she knew you never interrupted in another. For Thomasin, she broke that rule, "Miss Thomasin! How could you ever condone calling yourself weak? You stand before me, now; despite being afraid; I believe that, in and of itself; to be bravery. When you look a predator in the eye, and you refuse to give in, no matter the fear. That is bravery, that is not weakness!" It hurt, calling herself a predator, but perhaps, the more she encouraged these thoughts, the faster Thomasin would leave.
The sooner Valan felt the coming pain of abandonment, the sooner she'd get over it again. The sooner she could try again, move on, and eventually understand that solitude would just have to be her future. But that didn't mean she would sit back and allow Thomasin to deny her own strengths. The smaller mare turned, her gaze on the goddess, and at her next words, Valan found herself frozen once more. Choosing . . . to believe that she wasn't to harm her? That she was not a monster, just . . . unfamiliar. The weakness was back in Valan's eyes, waiting for the ball to drop, the coming cruel laughter as she was led into a trap, for surely that must be what came next.
Valan was never accepted once others found out who she was, what she was. Then those words and Valan's gaze moved up to the statue, swallowing hard at the cursed four-letter word. The word that seemed to have ruined her life too many times to count. "I don't need love." The denial came quickly, but it was spoken with a quiver to the vampire's voice, a weakness, a fair of that four-letter word that had destroyed her whole world. "I do not deserve love."
Then she realized why she was so on edge, why she was waiting - Thomasin was calming down. Was this to be the calm before the storm? The pause before her destruction? And then those eyes met her own pale ones, and the mare with a garden to her chest startled the vampire into silence. The words spoken were what Valan tried so hard to achieve, and yet, all of a sudden she felt like it was a sham, that she had played a part, and now Thomasin had a copy of her playbook and was pointing out all the areas where it was wrong. To think, her mannerisms would be a cause of fear even before her fangs were seen. To be intimidating . . . . it was not what the vampiress wanted.
And then Thomasin spoke of herself, of elegance and beauty she couldn't reach, of not being ethereal, being one of disgust, oddity, burdensome. Valan didn't know what to say, not at the moment; because the words that were leaving Thomasin now, were the last ones Valan would have used. And then Thomasin was moving. Once more Valan froze, not breathing, not moving, turning herself into a living statue and she suddenly found herself far more afraid than she'd been in front of any other being.
The approach slowed, but Valan didn't immediately relax, her ears still pitched forward, listening to everything the little mare was saying. But . . . but those words, perhaps they were what she'd always wanted to hear, to not have to do it alone. Paired with the small smile, so warm, so inviting, Valan felt herself blinking, and in that rare moment, despite her vampiric nature, the tears welled up in her own eyes, dripping slightly down the stained black marks along her cheek, "You're wrong." She whispered so softly, it was like a breath into the distance between them. "You're not weak." She repeated, her words soft, but sure, "You're body may not be as strong as others. I cannot fathom the struggles of growing a garden in one's chest; surely. But if you've shown me anything of yourself today Miss Thomasin, it's that you have a remarkable strength of spirit. You ignore your fears, to stay here, to talk to me. You don't beat around the bush, you speak to get your point across, no matter what the content of your story may be.
"It is true, you do not know my burdens, or where I'm meant to be in this world, but you have the strength to admit it as well." Valan admitted softly, before she took a soft breath, her muzzle dropping, gently touching the dormant flower at her shoulder, caressing the petals that would have snuggled back if not for the fact they slept. Even with Rosario clinging to her body, she felt so alone, or she had . . . prior to this moment now. "You are correct, it has turned into quite the . . . conversation." She does smile back, but Valan's muzzle is closed, carefully hiding those shameful fangs, even as she pauses at the request, hesitating, uncertain, before finally nodding, "Of course Mi-, Thomasin, as you wish."
She pauses then, unsure of what to say, what to do, before she looks up slowly, cautiously, "If I may allow me to introduce myself properly then." Valan feels a sudden shyness, a sense she hadn't felt in a long time. It was like she was back in time, a young mare introducing herself to proper society for the first time again, "I am Valantine De'Chrys; Lady of House De'Chrys, although the name itself has been forgotten in time." She shifts into a playful curtsy, even as there is a vulnerability in her gaze, "Perhaps, you'd permit me the time that way may continue . . . our discussions. It's . . . been a truly long time since I've been able to have a company with another . . . and I have only recently woken up from four or five-hundred-year hibernation." She pauses, before she smiles beautifully, a controlled smile that keeps her fangs hidden, "And I find myself curious of the mortal who is willing to keep company with a vampire." Maybe for just a bit longer, she could keep this feeling of not being alone.
@Thomasin
for goodness sake
where is my self control?
if home is where my heart is
then my heart has lost all hope
where is my self control?
if home is where my heart is
then my heart has lost all hope
