the bitterness of winter or the sweetness of spring
you are an artist and your heart is your masterpiece
Like a distraught and wayward balloon, Thomasin could feel herself expand with the growing dilemma of her emotions; does she tell the winter flame that she wasn’t distressed – frustrated might have been an appropriate and interchangeable word, but maybe starved would have been ideal. Touch starved. She flamed at the thought of this new friend finding out the delusions she was constructed in her head. When Valan apologized, her ears thrown back as if waiting for a scolding, Thomasin just grew redder.
Did she tell Valan that for just a fleeting moment she had daydreams of sharing hair secrets and long walks in gardens untouched by time? How they would name the flora together? How would she tell her that? How do you say you have already made plans for moonlit beach picnics, or visits on rainy days when the fireplace was warm and the company even warmer? What of the wildflower crowns she wished to braid with her, would they wait? Could Valan teach her the delicate way she ties her bows, guide her in how a lady demands all eyes when she enters a room, know the lessons of womanhood and help her settle into these aching bones?
Thomasin took a deep breath, though surprised she hadn’t already burst from the anticipation, and she looked at Valan with the intention of sharing how she was simply caught off guard, how she was just honestly desperate for the promises of her company. But the words were trapped in her throat, and instead she strained, an unintelligible wince as instead she stared at her. The firelight painted each burgundy curl with a subtle orange glow; the shadows created shapes that followed the ebb and flow of the vampire’s body, licking the cracks in her marble skin. They looked like sunlight that threatened to break through the walls that dared to contain it.
She hurt to look at.
The gingerbread mare felt her shoulders slump, knowing how foolish she must have looked, and her line of sight fell to the floor as the heat in her youthful cheeks dissipated. “Of course. No apology needed. I was reassured, so thank you.”
Valan was a lady.
Thomasin just a line without a hook.
And the dusty lamb would need to learn how to control her desperation for a companion, for a true friend. For now, she would take each whimsical fantasy in her mind and fold them away, like heirloom linens, saving these wishes for a lonely day.
As if clockwork, her wet eyes were beginning to haze with the promise of sleep. Her eyelids were a little heavier, mottled lashes quivering with each prolonged blink. She nodded in encouragement, a soft smile of contentment playing on her rosy lips. She would listen with her full attention; a giggle at mention of politics and sleeping, a playful yet hidden eye-roll at the mention of being whisked away as if part of a doll collection.
I’d keep you around too.
Her spirits lifted with the silver sound of Valan's laughter, and then her brow furrowed at the mention of the estate, wondering if she had any garments that might suit an invitation to a manor. Surely, she’d find something at the night markets. She briefly wondered about the other vampires that keep Valan’s company: were they just as friendly? She silently gulped. Maybe doing some reading would help her prepare for dinner with a keep full of vampires. She hadn’t thought about how she might be the most appetizing thing at the table. She chose not to dwell on it, lest her fear suddenly multiply and spread through her body and convince her to stay away from the moon lady.
If there was a will there was way, and Thomasin would study how to appease to these creatures’ better natures.
“It is growing late,” she mused to herself, afraid to look at Valan, afraid to draw their first encounter to a close. But that was the beauty of budding friendship, was it not? Distance would make one grow fonder, and it certainly wouldn’t be their only encounter. A yawn split open the dryad’s head, where a perfectly pink tongue would show, and sleepy tears rimmed her eyes. She blinked at Valan, before quietly giggling at her timing.
“I wish to see you soon, friend”, she drawled as her knobby knees straightened and lifted her onto the delicate stilts of her legs. Her body turned towards the direction of the exit, weary with the impending journey home, but her face was still fixated on the pale one. A tender simper, her sauce-pan ears awaiting to cup her parting words.
“I won’t forget you Valantine – the gentle vampire.”
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"talking." thinking.
tagged: @Valan
vibing to: X
