the bitterness of winter or the sweetness of spring
you are an artist and your heart is your masterpiece
Thomasin, with her lack of proper time around society, had such a difficult time deciphering whether Valan’s emotions were as true as they seemed. She wouldn’t think of such a refined, noble woman to lie to Thomasin, but perhaps that was her game. Was she playing with the lamb? Toying with her, a tiny field mouse caught in the teeth of a much wiser stray cat. There was a power she held over the littler one – she must have known it. Yet, Thomasin could not tell whether she really had her best intentions at heart.
It was a slap to the face to be interrupted like that. Wide deer ears drooped against the back of her minute head, eyes growing large, her facial features morphing into shame. She found her tail swept in between her hind legs, and suddenly felt so much tinier than usual. There was not much of a height difference between the two mares, which was a blessing because Thomasin got so tired of looking up at people. But in that moment, she was miniscule, just a speck of dust. Her gaze downcast as Valan called her brave for being able to speak in the face of a predator. Brave, or self-preservation? Her shame began to change into a strange sort of bashfulness. She had never been called brave before, even though she knew it was a lie, she couldn’t help but believe in it just a bit.
Thomasin was quick to discard her own feelings as Valan continued, a sort of anguish in her eyes that made Thomasin’s heart ache with a need to reach out and touch her. She dare not, but there was a sort of longing in her gaze as she reconnected their stares. "I don't need love." The words stung.
Don’t speak like that. Thomasin’s face twisted into a grimace.
Stop talking like that, please.
It was not her place to correct the way Valan spoke of herself, because Thomasin, too, was so harshly self-critical. She did not wish to be hypocritical, especially after she had just been called out for calling herself weak and scared. But, nonetheless, they shared that pain, and in that realization, made Thomasin second guess what else they might have in common.
Her eyes fell to the pink of her own toes. “Everyone deserves love.” It was a shell of a statement.
She watched her speak again, of strength in her spirit. Although their woes different, they could recognize that they both had some troubles – burdens that weighed on their shoulders. The chai-colored dryad tucked her head, unsure of how to digest all the praise she had been given. She was great at giving, terrible at receiving. Instead she chose to distract herself with the thorny floral that clung to Valan's body - was it simply a fashion statement, or maybe she too had flowers growing from her skin? Thomasin was unsure, but the way that the pale woman touched the petals could have moved Thomasin to tears again.
How could a creature meant for destruction, violence, and blood-shed, be so tender?
But then a proper introduction. Thomasin perked up, her ears rotated and cupped towards the vampire’s direction, thirsty to drink in her words. A sort of flutter tickled her stomach. It made sense she was a lady of a house, some ancient and mysterious title that shrouded her in an air of royalty. The lamb wondered, briefly, if she used to dance at balls, swept away by prince charmings as they tried to woo and court her. How could they not want to ask her hand to dance?
“Valantine.” The winter flame had a full name; it was like homemade candy on her tongue, it stuck to her teeth and refused to be forgotten - and when she spoke it, you could hear the saccharine way it dripped from her. Thomasin watched with a tender simper, her eyes - although glassy from her recent episode - glimmered in wonder as Valan folded herself into a curtsy. Was the reason she was able to move like that – so sinuous in even the most mundane of gestures – because she was vampiric? Was that part of her charm? Was that her end goal, to enchant and have Thomasin lower her guard?
Because unfortunately, it was working.
“My lady.” She whispered back playfully, following suit and giving a curtsy; even as she bent herself, Thomasin did not take her eyes off of Valan, her expression soft and thoughtful as she searched her rose-colored eyes. She wasn’t sure what she was hoping to discover, but she was adamant in staying there for a moment, staying in those eyes – was she hungry? Was she seeing how close her prey would get before the chase? Four to five hundred years of gnawing hunger must be getting to her.
Thomasin chose to ignore the age, though she was bewildered and curious, she still was apprehensive of the answers she might receive. She wanted to know who this lady was, what her character was, before she dove into the physicality and chemistry of whatshe was. “I would be delighted to keep your company tonight, for as long as you will have me.”
Thomasin didn't wish to linger, she moved on quickly to the next subject in hoping of continuing to calm her nerves. The more she could find to relate, the more she got to know this stranger, the closer they could become; the was the goal. Whether a test from Caligo, or perhaps just a lucky twist of fate, Thomasin was determined to see past the veil of predator.
“Tell me, Valan, did you dream when you slept? What does a vampire dream of?”
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"talking." thinking.
tagged: @Valan
vibing to: X
