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?
Valan felt like she was wading through a pool of chilled water. Ice cubs brushed like searing heat against her limbs, and threatened to freeze her still. One wrong step would send her beneath the ice, and it would converge into a singular mass, trapping her in a suspended state beneath the chilled top. A trapped rose seeing the world through the sheer icey barrier. Held beneath the waves and unable to move. Talking with Thomasin felt like she was finally learning to tread water. But one wrong move could send her crashing back down the the freezing sea floor, unreachable in an instant. Her life had been a beautiful story when it started. Her life now was a tragedy that continued to write itself, even after others had stopped subscribing for the updates.
She tries to joke but she can see immediately that it falls flat. Too much of her own self-hatred had entered her words, pain at the memory of what her final moments at a mortal had been like. For a moment she could feel the flames licking at her skin, smell the smoke condensing around her like a cloak of death. And then she sees Thomasin's reaction to her attempt at play, and she feels her heart shatter at the expression decorating the little fawn's features. Her words, however; those confused words asking how she wished to be addressed. Valan is feverishly shaking her head before she can stop herself, her eyes wide, begging, imploring, "Oh, no, please Thomasin, never address me in such formal matters. I'd be heartbroken, if you should." Her muzzle dips into a soft smile, but it's tainted with a sudden fear that she was ruining this chance of friendship, unaware that Thomasin shared those same worries, "Besides, by all technicalities, I am but a mere widow, so just my name, please; Thomasin. It's . . . it's how friends address each other, is it not?" There is a fragility introduced to her tone, shy and uncertain; having almost forgotten over the hundreds of years how friends converse.
She knew how she spoke with Rafie all those many, many years ago. Before he died, before she became an undead . . . but that was an entirely different situation than the one she was in now. It had been easy as a little filly to make friends with the quite, abandoned little colt who had showed up in her gardens overnight. Now, as an adult, she's not sure if she remembers how. How to make friends, how to encourage those connections. Especially with a mortal. Prey and Predator. It only happened in storybooks, when that divide could be smudged, and something more could come from it. Was she foolish hoping to write her own fantasy tale, to try for a new happy ending when every time previously; those happy endings had crashed and burned.
She lays down on the ground, and that cool temperature of the cobbled stone seemed to settle her thoughts just a little. It was a moment that permitted her to ground herself, least her own fears obscure her desires once more. Her gaze lifts as Thomasin lowers as well, and Valan can't help but watch the graceful movements, the way those dainty legs crossed so elegantly, the way her tail whipped like a lion, but with so much more hair. How could Thomasin not see her own glory . . . in a moment like this, Valan couldn't deny that there was a certain elegance, a certain wildness to Thomasin as well.
Valan distracts herself from such thoughts with stories of her dreams. The memory of those gardens were the only bright point to many of those dreams. They always turned to ash and brimstone eventually. The soft whisper brought her attention up, meeting those soft pale eyes, like spun silver, priceless and precious, and filled with such sorrow and sympathy. Valan ducks her head shyly at the voiced sympathy, before blinking at the admission of naming her flower. Valan paused, glancing at the dormant flower that slept to regain energy. She could feel the tugging of awareness slowly coming back. Acknowledgment that her bonded was almost recharged after caring for her health solely for the last few hundred years, "Rosario . . . is special." She admits, and she suddenly feels a shyness, knowing that not many would be able to comprehend that her bonded, once he rejoined her in his own unlife; wasn't traditional, "Once he is no longer dormant, I'll introduce you proper." She adds casually, but there is a playful smile to her muzzle, a mischievous look to her eyes as she winks in silent confirmation of a secret the little flower held.
She may not have a garden growing from her chest, but when Rosario was once more awake, aware; she had a plant she spoke to. It brought a moment of pondering if perhaps she was not so different to Thomasin as she had first assumed. Perhaps they had more in common, more alike than they might have originally considered. There was a moment of delight at the thought, before she had asked Thomasin about her garden she carried with her. Instantly, the pale maiden wanted to take the question back. She wanted to apologize, to sooth and promise she won't ask again. But instead she lets Thomasin talk.
She sees the discomfort, but it's a rare moment of selfishness that keeps her muzzle shut, allowing Thomasin to speak rather than telling her not to worry about it. She wants to know more about the little fawn just starting to grow antlers to defend herself with. She wanted to know more about the one who would shed tears for a monster. Who could assure to her that a goddess could love a disaster like she. She was not expecting Thomasin to claim she was sick. Valan tilted her head, her expression betraying her confusion. Thomasin didn't necessarily smell of sickness. She carried the scent of her garden, certainly - but not sickness. She calls it a condition, before apologizing if it repulsed her.
Valan's eyes went wide instantly, as she shakes her head quickly, this time she doesn't hesitate, her muzzle crossing the difference between them. She moves slowly, however, to not startle the little lamb, reaching out to touch one of those dainty, delicate limbs. It's a soft touch, meant to reassure, to provide comfort, confidence; "It does not repulse me." She promises, her words spoken softly, gently. "I find it remarkable . . . to carry a garden with you where ever you wish to go. You're . . . remarkable, Thomasin." For more than just the garden, even.
Ever time she thought she had Thomasin figured out, every time she thought she knew what the little lamb would do, Thomasin never failed to surprise her. In Valan's eyes, there was nothing repulsive about the little mare. She was simply amazing. She might not see it, but Valan did. And Valan silently made a promise to herself, she would do all she could to let Thomasin see it one day as well. The next twist to the conversational path was on safer ground, and Valan smiles at the correct assumption before she was surprised once more. Remember a face like hers? In a sudden, rare moment, Valan found herself embarrassed, ducking her head as that shyness suddenly returned. She was used to compliments, knew her beauty - but . . . Thomasin would have remembered her? Few seemed to unless they got to know her. A pretty face, fleeting as a leaf in the breeze. Gone from one's thoughts as soon as she has disappeared from sight for a few moments. But . . . Thomasin would . . . remember her, just by a passing glance.
It must be a saying, a mere polite conversational piece. She shouldn't think too much into it. It likely didn't mean anything, she was reading into it too much. Who knew how conversations, how dictation, and communication had changed over the years. "No, I am from Terrastella, I have been there for a while now. Watched it be built up, once upon a time. But, I am curious about the world now. Only just awakened, there is a lot to learn, a lot to see. And I'm eager to experience it all. Well, experience it at night." She shifts, as if she can feel the rays of the sun, can smell the scent of her hide starting to burn from the light, "My health can become . . . at risk, if I'm touched by sunlight." She offers briefly. It's more than just an explanation, however. She isn't sure if Thomasin will be aware of the precious gift offered by those words, willingly presenting a weakness that could protect Thomasin from herself and others of her species. A weakness that could be exploited and lead to Valan's doom.
She pauses briefly, before adding, "Of course, the world always seems much prettier in the sunlight. It's just unfortunate I must be spirited away into the Manor before the sun fully rises." She's grateful for her age, which means that brief contact with the sun only causes sunburn like trauma to her skin. But she hid away during the day regardless, because while brief engagement may only amount to a sunburn, the longer the sun touched her skin, the worse the burn would become. She shakes these thoughts from her mind, turning back to Thomasin, and returns a question for a question, "And yourself. Where do you reside?" Her smile turns soft, playful; "Just in case I should ever wish to pay a new friend a visit."
And it's not just words to say, Valan knew she meant it. Knowing where to go to find Thomasin again, her first friend, her first mortal friend in so long. She just hoped Thomasin would permit the visit, would provide the locations for how, and where to find her. Would continue to allow the companionship between them to flourish. It was already becoming remarkably precious to Valan, precious enough for Valan to refuse to give up.
@Thomasin
She tries to joke but she can see immediately that it falls flat. Too much of her own self-hatred had entered her words, pain at the memory of what her final moments at a mortal had been like. For a moment she could feel the flames licking at her skin, smell the smoke condensing around her like a cloak of death. And then she sees Thomasin's reaction to her attempt at play, and she feels her heart shatter at the expression decorating the little fawn's features. Her words, however; those confused words asking how she wished to be addressed. Valan is feverishly shaking her head before she can stop herself, her eyes wide, begging, imploring, "Oh, no, please Thomasin, never address me in such formal matters. I'd be heartbroken, if you should." Her muzzle dips into a soft smile, but it's tainted with a sudden fear that she was ruining this chance of friendship, unaware that Thomasin shared those same worries, "Besides, by all technicalities, I am but a mere widow, so just my name, please; Thomasin. It's . . . it's how friends address each other, is it not?" There is a fragility introduced to her tone, shy and uncertain; having almost forgotten over the hundreds of years how friends converse.
She knew how she spoke with Rafie all those many, many years ago. Before he died, before she became an undead . . . but that was an entirely different situation than the one she was in now. It had been easy as a little filly to make friends with the quite, abandoned little colt who had showed up in her gardens overnight. Now, as an adult, she's not sure if she remembers how. How to make friends, how to encourage those connections. Especially with a mortal. Prey and Predator. It only happened in storybooks, when that divide could be smudged, and something more could come from it. Was she foolish hoping to write her own fantasy tale, to try for a new happy ending when every time previously; those happy endings had crashed and burned.
She lays down on the ground, and that cool temperature of the cobbled stone seemed to settle her thoughts just a little. It was a moment that permitted her to ground herself, least her own fears obscure her desires once more. Her gaze lifts as Thomasin lowers as well, and Valan can't help but watch the graceful movements, the way those dainty legs crossed so elegantly, the way her tail whipped like a lion, but with so much more hair. How could Thomasin not see her own glory . . . in a moment like this, Valan couldn't deny that there was a certain elegance, a certain wildness to Thomasin as well.
Valan distracts herself from such thoughts with stories of her dreams. The memory of those gardens were the only bright point to many of those dreams. They always turned to ash and brimstone eventually. The soft whisper brought her attention up, meeting those soft pale eyes, like spun silver, priceless and precious, and filled with such sorrow and sympathy. Valan ducks her head shyly at the voiced sympathy, before blinking at the admission of naming her flower. Valan paused, glancing at the dormant flower that slept to regain energy. She could feel the tugging of awareness slowly coming back. Acknowledgment that her bonded was almost recharged after caring for her health solely for the last few hundred years, "Rosario . . . is special." She admits, and she suddenly feels a shyness, knowing that not many would be able to comprehend that her bonded, once he rejoined her in his own unlife; wasn't traditional, "Once he is no longer dormant, I'll introduce you proper." She adds casually, but there is a playful smile to her muzzle, a mischievous look to her eyes as she winks in silent confirmation of a secret the little flower held.
She may not have a garden growing from her chest, but when Rosario was once more awake, aware; she had a plant she spoke to. It brought a moment of pondering if perhaps she was not so different to Thomasin as she had first assumed. Perhaps they had more in common, more alike than they might have originally considered. There was a moment of delight at the thought, before she had asked Thomasin about her garden she carried with her. Instantly, the pale maiden wanted to take the question back. She wanted to apologize, to sooth and promise she won't ask again. But instead she lets Thomasin talk.
She sees the discomfort, but it's a rare moment of selfishness that keeps her muzzle shut, allowing Thomasin to speak rather than telling her not to worry about it. She wants to know more about the little fawn just starting to grow antlers to defend herself with. She wanted to know more about the one who would shed tears for a monster. Who could assure to her that a goddess could love a disaster like she. She was not expecting Thomasin to claim she was sick. Valan tilted her head, her expression betraying her confusion. Thomasin didn't necessarily smell of sickness. She carried the scent of her garden, certainly - but not sickness. She calls it a condition, before apologizing if it repulsed her.
Valan's eyes went wide instantly, as she shakes her head quickly, this time she doesn't hesitate, her muzzle crossing the difference between them. She moves slowly, however, to not startle the little lamb, reaching out to touch one of those dainty, delicate limbs. It's a soft touch, meant to reassure, to provide comfort, confidence; "It does not repulse me." She promises, her words spoken softly, gently. "I find it remarkable . . . to carry a garden with you where ever you wish to go. You're . . . remarkable, Thomasin." For more than just the garden, even.
Ever time she thought she had Thomasin figured out, every time she thought she knew what the little lamb would do, Thomasin never failed to surprise her. In Valan's eyes, there was nothing repulsive about the little mare. She was simply amazing. She might not see it, but Valan did. And Valan silently made a promise to herself, she would do all she could to let Thomasin see it one day as well. The next twist to the conversational path was on safer ground, and Valan smiles at the correct assumption before she was surprised once more. Remember a face like hers? In a sudden, rare moment, Valan found herself embarrassed, ducking her head as that shyness suddenly returned. She was used to compliments, knew her beauty - but . . . Thomasin would have remembered her? Few seemed to unless they got to know her. A pretty face, fleeting as a leaf in the breeze. Gone from one's thoughts as soon as she has disappeared from sight for a few moments. But . . . Thomasin would . . . remember her, just by a passing glance.
It must be a saying, a mere polite conversational piece. She shouldn't think too much into it. It likely didn't mean anything, she was reading into it too much. Who knew how conversations, how dictation, and communication had changed over the years. "No, I am from Terrastella, I have been there for a while now. Watched it be built up, once upon a time. But, I am curious about the world now. Only just awakened, there is a lot to learn, a lot to see. And I'm eager to experience it all. Well, experience it at night." She shifts, as if she can feel the rays of the sun, can smell the scent of her hide starting to burn from the light, "My health can become . . . at risk, if I'm touched by sunlight." She offers briefly. It's more than just an explanation, however. She isn't sure if Thomasin will be aware of the precious gift offered by those words, willingly presenting a weakness that could protect Thomasin from herself and others of her species. A weakness that could be exploited and lead to Valan's doom.
She pauses briefly, before adding, "Of course, the world always seems much prettier in the sunlight. It's just unfortunate I must be spirited away into the Manor before the sun fully rises." She's grateful for her age, which means that brief contact with the sun only causes sunburn like trauma to her skin. But she hid away during the day regardless, because while brief engagement may only amount to a sunburn, the longer the sun touched her skin, the worse the burn would become. She shakes these thoughts from her mind, turning back to Thomasin, and returns a question for a question, "And yourself. Where do you reside?" Her smile turns soft, playful; "Just in case I should ever wish to pay a new friend a visit."
And it's not just words to say, Valan knew she meant it. Knowing where to go to find Thomasin again, her first friend, her first mortal friend in so long. She just hoped Thomasin would permit the visit, would provide the locations for how, and where to find her. Would continue to allow the companionship between them to flourish. It was already becoming remarkably precious to Valan, precious enough for Valan to refuse to give up.
@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
