Caelum
I'm pulling at my clothes
I'm tryna keep my cool
I know it shows
The maiden's ears flicked quietly.
Not quite buried in her mane, but flinched back as she looks down at the flowers. She used to love the flowers her mother trailed everywhere she walked. Would beg for her mother to trot around so she could roll in them as a young filly. Now, they fill her belly with dread, knowing this so-called-gift was given because her parents were gone. Murdered by those villains who had wanted so desperately to hurt her, to destroy her. Her and everything that she loved.
They had certainly succeeded.
Her kingdom in ruins, her parents dead. Calico dead. And her beloved little boy stolen from her before he was old enough to even truly experience life. The fae was queen of a dead land that lay in ruins. And she was now running from the very birthrights bestowed upon the ruler of the Summer fae. She was running from Summer itself. Jarek is curious however, and the mare casually shakes her head, "Not truly. It is typically only what is common in the area. Rather than any control on my part." The runaway queen admits. His step forward has her cautiously freeze before he merely drops his head to look at the flowers, before his gaze raises to her. She shifts her own weight, awkward and unsure still of his intentions, but she doesn't respond.
Her gaze turns away, as Tiana's necklace warms around her neck.
The warmth is enough to reground her. Soothe her, even. Tiana was always watching out for her. She glances back to the stallion when he spoke again, asking of her relatives, "Only my mother. It is only gifted to the rare few." She doesn't elaborate that it is a gift for the current rulers of Summer. That had her parents survived, they would have been teaching her to use her new found abilities. Any children she had would be blessed with the same gifts only if deemed a Heir or Heiress by Summer's blessing.
He speaks of his kin, of coming from the desert.
She understands the warmth being missed, "I am of the Summer branch of the fae. I can certainly understand not appreciating the cold. My homelands, when in proper order, a proper royal on the thrown; is set into a constant state of Summer. I will not deny missing the warmth during winter, like this." She admitted quietly.
His eyes suddenly catch the sparkle of her wings, and she notes his wary attitude.
"We, my people, call it fae dust. It flakes off our wings, but is not dangerous, though can have magical properties. Mine heals, provides life." She explains, demonstrating by letting the dust fall onto the small patch of flowers. As soon as it does the flowers grow bigger, the patch larger, more plentiful. "Useful, considering my profession as a healer." She may not trust this stranger, but neither was she so cruel to not assure him something so benign as her fae dust wasn't dangerous.
"Speech"
Thoughts
@Jarek
Notes:
Not quite buried in her mane, but flinched back as she looks down at the flowers. She used to love the flowers her mother trailed everywhere she walked. Would beg for her mother to trot around so she could roll in them as a young filly. Now, they fill her belly with dread, knowing this so-called-gift was given because her parents were gone. Murdered by those villains who had wanted so desperately to hurt her, to destroy her. Her and everything that she loved.
They had certainly succeeded.
Her kingdom in ruins, her parents dead. Calico dead. And her beloved little boy stolen from her before he was old enough to even truly experience life. The fae was queen of a dead land that lay in ruins. And she was now running from the very birthrights bestowed upon the ruler of the Summer fae. She was running from Summer itself. Jarek is curious however, and the mare casually shakes her head, "Not truly. It is typically only what is common in the area. Rather than any control on my part." The runaway queen admits. His step forward has her cautiously freeze before he merely drops his head to look at the flowers, before his gaze raises to her. She shifts her own weight, awkward and unsure still of his intentions, but she doesn't respond.
Her gaze turns away, as Tiana's necklace warms around her neck.
The warmth is enough to reground her. Soothe her, even. Tiana was always watching out for her. She glances back to the stallion when he spoke again, asking of her relatives, "Only my mother. It is only gifted to the rare few." She doesn't elaborate that it is a gift for the current rulers of Summer. That had her parents survived, they would have been teaching her to use her new found abilities. Any children she had would be blessed with the same gifts only if deemed a Heir or Heiress by Summer's blessing.
He speaks of his kin, of coming from the desert.
She understands the warmth being missed, "I am of the Summer branch of the fae. I can certainly understand not appreciating the cold. My homelands, when in proper order, a proper royal on the thrown; is set into a constant state of Summer. I will not deny missing the warmth during winter, like this." She admitted quietly.
His eyes suddenly catch the sparkle of her wings, and she notes his wary attitude.
"We, my people, call it fae dust. It flakes off our wings, but is not dangerous, though can have magical properties. Mine heals, provides life." She explains, demonstrating by letting the dust fall onto the small patch of flowers. As soon as it does the flowers grow bigger, the patch larger, more plentiful. "Useful, considering my profession as a healer." She may not trust this stranger, but neither was she so cruel to not assure him something so benign as her fae dust wasn't dangerous.
"Speech"
Thoughts
@Jarek
Notes:
My cheeks are turning red
I'm searching for the words inside my head
art by bingo
