Caelum
he just bought 'em home one day,
"Ain't they beautiful" he said
She feels his eyes on her, it's an unfamiliar feeling.
To have someone's attention so fully. It had been so long since she felt this . . . enthralling to an individual. In another place, another time, such attention would have alarmed her, but as his magic swirled and pulled her closer . . it felt, well it felt right. Like a moth to the flame, she couldn't resist, even as the heat would begin to burn her. Right now, that heat was just a tickle of electricity down her skin, a subtle warmth that made her feel more alive than she had in such a long time. He smiled, the warmth of it seeming so real that she couldn't help but be reeled in, inch by inch. She couldn't know it was a practice act, meant to capture her in his web, like a spider watching its prey buzz closer, closer, closer.
She doesn't hesitate to speak, telling him of the fae.
Yet she can't help but smile, to be a bit more playful with the information. Her ears perk when he tells her that books don't do her people justice, and she had to grin her expression dancing, and at that moment, those brown eyes warmed to molten chocolate, and her voice lowers to an almost purr, so uncharacteristic for her 'regal Caelum's persona she wore so well. But in this instant, in that brief moment, she was a little more than prim and proper, a little more than the Crowned Princess, the Runaway Queen; at this moment, she couldn't help but just be Caelum, "Well, if all of our secrets lay open in the books, how else would the fae ensnare our victims." She asked, her tone low, playful, eyes dancing as she stares up at him, practically bating him to ask how a fae ensnares someone.
Had he read of those old stories?
He did speak of how his studies didn't mention fae favoring knowledge, and of how some knowledge should be shared, asking if Fae saw all knowledge as equal. She is thoughtful for a moment, long black lashes sweeping shut over cocoa eyes as she ponders his words. Those unusually expressive eyes flutter open again and she smiles coyly, a playful tug to her lips as the woman gently shrugs her shoulders. The motion sweeps a dusting of faerie dust from those wings, encouraging the growth of the flowers around her hooves, "I would not say we are opposed to sharing knowledge, but Fae do not appreciate giving things away for free. It is give and take, and most importantly, fae like to feel like they get the better end of the deal." She pauses, expression thoughtful, trying to think of the right way to explain it further, "In short, we want to come out of a bargain with the best hand, and do not fear holding back." She pauses again before finally sighing and giving in toothe slight push to explain properly, unaware that push wasn't her own conscience.
"It's like saying thank you to a fae."
The simple sentence was followed with a pause, "It should never, ever be said, because it's alluding to you owing the fae a favor. Or, should a faerie ask for your name, and I do mean literally if one says 'May I have your name.' You must never give your name freely, you should only answer with something like 'you can call me' but never just hand over your name - it would be giving the fae true ownership . . . " She pauses again, this time frowning in confusion for why she was going into so much detail, on why Fae don't share their secrets. Because, in the end, the fae likes to be on top, "Unfortunately, with so many . . . careful ways to phrase or do things around a fae . . . we can make enemies when we play with the wrong sort . . . so we like to obscure and hide our weaknesses as well." She doesn't go into detail here.
Though, should he ask, the magic may push her to reply,
She was falling victim quickly, with no mental defenses to protect her as the magic encourages her to relax, to be herself, to not be nervous. To trust him. She laughs when he comments on fae making politicians before she pauses at the intentions of fae, "No . . . not dangerous." She responds, "The Winter Court is hidden behind a barrier to keep outsiders from bothering them . . . and while the Summer Queen walks free, she is . . . not looking for trouble. She would be happy if no one knows who she is. But, she is also not afraid to ensure no fae threatens others. Or, so I have heard . . . but, more importantly, there is . . . not much left of the Summer Court, of my home. It was destroyed recently, by enemies of the Summer Queen." Caelum flinches at the memories, shaking her head briefly, "The fae not behind the barrier are more concerned about protecting each other, defending intruders on fae land . . . they are no threat. Most importantly, fae do not really ever wish to harm. We mostly just enjoy pranks and teasing others." She shakes off the final feelings of the past, once more smiling as his magic soothed the upset her words had caused her.
Perhaps the first good thing his magic had done.
Even if it had been to keep her relaxed and comfortable with him. "I apologize, I do not normally speak so openly, or at length . . . I guess you are just easy to speak with." She apologies, her chocolate gaze lifting back up to his lavender gaze, ears perking when he speaks on Coronations, of the differences in the rulers and how different ones hold things differently. Her ears did perk at the idea of festivals, however; being part of the culture of Solterra. Her smile softens, saddens again, "I can understand that. The Summer Court had many festivities focused around the sun, and summertime. Considering our King held the very essence of Summer, it is not much of a surprise how important it is for us." Her gaze is still on the festivities, watching the way the people of Novus interact, even as her ears twisted towards Sebastien, so she wouldn't miss what he had to say. "I suppose, the Summer Court would have many similarities to Solterra indeed." She whispered softly.
She turns her gaze forcefully from the scene.
Looking up at him, she tilted her head at the sight of his smile, the sound of his chuckle. Her eyes warm again, chasing the shadows away, and she marvels at how . . . better she suddenly feels. When he leaves, when his magic can't reach out so easily, the return of such negativity would hit her hard, would have her searching out his comforting presence all the more, like a drug addict looking for their next fix. "You never know when someone surprises you with a question you are not prepared for." The idea of talking about the culture of her people, of what it meant to be fae had her smiling slightly. She nods at his words, motioning for him to walk with her, "I guess, fae; to the depths of our beings are playful creatures. We love to play. To dance, to laugh, to sing. We love to interact, to draw a smile. We hold festivities for any reason. A new birth. A new relationship. A successful harvest. Because it stopped raining. Whether the reason is worth a celebration or not, we enjoy the ability to have fun together." Her smile with a fondness, "When I had originally been planning to marry my childhood sweetheart, the entire kingdom celebrated for a week straight."
She stops walking, turning her gaze back up to him.
"But, we are also selfish being. We do not care being taken for granted, for being made the fool. We are entirely too possessive, we cling to what we believe is ours with everything we have." She laughs, ducking her face in old embarrassment, "The amount of times I have make a fool of myself from jealousy is almost laughable. I would hate any woman getting to close to the man I was with." That had been no truer than with her demon. "But we are also proud. Proud of our heritage, we do not like being dismissed, or ignored, or made to feel as if we are second best." There's a pause, a moment of uncertainty, those very words stirring up feelings she was conflicted with now, "Sorry, I distracted myself." Her gaze returns to him, a shy, apologetic smile, "Relationship problems. Or . . . well, maybe it is a lack of a relationship? Perfect proof, I suppose of how bothersome to myself, to my people, it is when we feel dismissed, or second to other things." She added, embarrassed.
When was the last time she felt this comfortable showing emotion?
She briefly knocks her shoulder against his, a casual touch from a mare who typically avoided it, "I feel like I have been doing all the talking . . . What about you, what are the important attributes of your identity?" She asked curiously, her muzzle twisting into a playful, teasing smile, "I cannot be the only one sharing secrets and tales." She adds, before kicking up her heels, continuing their stroll in a prance, the flowers in her mane growing a little bigger with her good mood, twirling into a flower crown around her temple, as she looks back at him, "Perhaps we can play a question for a question. I ask you something, and in return will answer a question, so neither of us do all the talking." Her gaze is curious once more.
"Why did you approach me out of everyone at the festival?"
"Speech"
Thoughts
@Sebastien
Notes: She's just like 'why am I talking so much?' followed by 'none of this is flirting, nope, I'm being friendly. I don't flirt.' and yet I'm like 'I think you're flirting a bit, stop liking the bad guys, please.'
To have someone's attention so fully. It had been so long since she felt this . . . enthralling to an individual. In another place, another time, such attention would have alarmed her, but as his magic swirled and pulled her closer . . it felt, well it felt right. Like a moth to the flame, she couldn't resist, even as the heat would begin to burn her. Right now, that heat was just a tickle of electricity down her skin, a subtle warmth that made her feel more alive than she had in such a long time. He smiled, the warmth of it seeming so real that she couldn't help but be reeled in, inch by inch. She couldn't know it was a practice act, meant to capture her in his web, like a spider watching its prey buzz closer, closer, closer.
She doesn't hesitate to speak, telling him of the fae.
Yet she can't help but smile, to be a bit more playful with the information. Her ears perk when he tells her that books don't do her people justice, and she had to grin her expression dancing, and at that moment, those brown eyes warmed to molten chocolate, and her voice lowers to an almost purr, so uncharacteristic for her 'regal Caelum's persona she wore so well. But in this instant, in that brief moment, she was a little more than prim and proper, a little more than the Crowned Princess, the Runaway Queen; at this moment, she couldn't help but just be Caelum, "Well, if all of our secrets lay open in the books, how else would the fae ensnare our victims." She asked, her tone low, playful, eyes dancing as she stares up at him, practically bating him to ask how a fae ensnares someone.
Had he read of those old stories?
He did speak of how his studies didn't mention fae favoring knowledge, and of how some knowledge should be shared, asking if Fae saw all knowledge as equal. She is thoughtful for a moment, long black lashes sweeping shut over cocoa eyes as she ponders his words. Those unusually expressive eyes flutter open again and she smiles coyly, a playful tug to her lips as the woman gently shrugs her shoulders. The motion sweeps a dusting of faerie dust from those wings, encouraging the growth of the flowers around her hooves, "I would not say we are opposed to sharing knowledge, but Fae do not appreciate giving things away for free. It is give and take, and most importantly, fae like to feel like they get the better end of the deal." She pauses, expression thoughtful, trying to think of the right way to explain it further, "In short, we want to come out of a bargain with the best hand, and do not fear holding back." She pauses again before finally sighing and giving in toothe slight push to explain properly, unaware that push wasn't her own conscience.
"It's like saying thank you to a fae."
The simple sentence was followed with a pause, "It should never, ever be said, because it's alluding to you owing the fae a favor. Or, should a faerie ask for your name, and I do mean literally if one says 'May I have your name.' You must never give your name freely, you should only answer with something like 'you can call me' but never just hand over your name - it would be giving the fae true ownership . . . " She pauses again, this time frowning in confusion for why she was going into so much detail, on why Fae don't share their secrets. Because, in the end, the fae likes to be on top, "Unfortunately, with so many . . . careful ways to phrase or do things around a fae . . . we can make enemies when we play with the wrong sort . . . so we like to obscure and hide our weaknesses as well." She doesn't go into detail here.
Though, should he ask, the magic may push her to reply,
She was falling victim quickly, with no mental defenses to protect her as the magic encourages her to relax, to be herself, to not be nervous. To trust him. She laughs when he comments on fae making politicians before she pauses at the intentions of fae, "No . . . not dangerous." She responds, "The Winter Court is hidden behind a barrier to keep outsiders from bothering them . . . and while the Summer Queen walks free, she is . . . not looking for trouble. She would be happy if no one knows who she is. But, she is also not afraid to ensure no fae threatens others. Or, so I have heard . . . but, more importantly, there is . . . not much left of the Summer Court, of my home. It was destroyed recently, by enemies of the Summer Queen." Caelum flinches at the memories, shaking her head briefly, "The fae not behind the barrier are more concerned about protecting each other, defending intruders on fae land . . . they are no threat. Most importantly, fae do not really ever wish to harm. We mostly just enjoy pranks and teasing others." She shakes off the final feelings of the past, once more smiling as his magic soothed the upset her words had caused her.
Perhaps the first good thing his magic had done.
Even if it had been to keep her relaxed and comfortable with him. "I apologize, I do not normally speak so openly, or at length . . . I guess you are just easy to speak with." She apologies, her chocolate gaze lifting back up to his lavender gaze, ears perking when he speaks on Coronations, of the differences in the rulers and how different ones hold things differently. Her ears did perk at the idea of festivals, however; being part of the culture of Solterra. Her smile softens, saddens again, "I can understand that. The Summer Court had many festivities focused around the sun, and summertime. Considering our King held the very essence of Summer, it is not much of a surprise how important it is for us." Her gaze is still on the festivities, watching the way the people of Novus interact, even as her ears twisted towards Sebastien, so she wouldn't miss what he had to say. "I suppose, the Summer Court would have many similarities to Solterra indeed." She whispered softly.
She turns her gaze forcefully from the scene.
Looking up at him, she tilted her head at the sight of his smile, the sound of his chuckle. Her eyes warm again, chasing the shadows away, and she marvels at how . . . better she suddenly feels. When he leaves, when his magic can't reach out so easily, the return of such negativity would hit her hard, would have her searching out his comforting presence all the more, like a drug addict looking for their next fix. "You never know when someone surprises you with a question you are not prepared for." The idea of talking about the culture of her people, of what it meant to be fae had her smiling slightly. She nods at his words, motioning for him to walk with her, "I guess, fae; to the depths of our beings are playful creatures. We love to play. To dance, to laugh, to sing. We love to interact, to draw a smile. We hold festivities for any reason. A new birth. A new relationship. A successful harvest. Because it stopped raining. Whether the reason is worth a celebration or not, we enjoy the ability to have fun together." Her smile with a fondness, "When I had originally been planning to marry my childhood sweetheart, the entire kingdom celebrated for a week straight."
She stops walking, turning her gaze back up to him.
"But, we are also selfish being. We do not care being taken for granted, for being made the fool. We are entirely too possessive, we cling to what we believe is ours with everything we have." She laughs, ducking her face in old embarrassment, "The amount of times I have make a fool of myself from jealousy is almost laughable. I would hate any woman getting to close to the man I was with." That had been no truer than with her demon. "But we are also proud. Proud of our heritage, we do not like being dismissed, or ignored, or made to feel as if we are second best." There's a pause, a moment of uncertainty, those very words stirring up feelings she was conflicted with now, "Sorry, I distracted myself." Her gaze returns to him, a shy, apologetic smile, "Relationship problems. Or . . . well, maybe it is a lack of a relationship? Perfect proof, I suppose of how bothersome to myself, to my people, it is when we feel dismissed, or second to other things." She added, embarrassed.
When was the last time she felt this comfortable showing emotion?
She briefly knocks her shoulder against his, a casual touch from a mare who typically avoided it, "I feel like I have been doing all the talking . . . What about you, what are the important attributes of your identity?" She asked curiously, her muzzle twisting into a playful, teasing smile, "I cannot be the only one sharing secrets and tales." She adds, before kicking up her heels, continuing their stroll in a prance, the flowers in her mane growing a little bigger with her good mood, twirling into a flower crown around her temple, as she looks back at him, "Perhaps we can play a question for a question. I ask you something, and in return will answer a question, so neither of us do all the talking." Her gaze is curious once more.
"Why did you approach me out of everyone at the festival?"
"Speech"
Thoughts
@Sebastien
Notes: She's just like 'why am I talking so much?' followed by 'none of this is flirting, nope, I'm being friendly. I don't flirt.' and yet I'm like 'I think you're flirting a bit, stop liking the bad guys, please.'
they're sittin' in the vase but now they're dead.
dead flowers.
art by bingo
