NEFERTARI
We've Become Disillusioned
So We Run Towards Anything Glimmering
The festivities worried at her soul like the pounding of the endless sea upon an empty shore; relentless. Perhaps she had overexerted herself in offering the one precious skill she owned, opening her sacred space to all the passersby and all the energetic junk that came with them. The confines of her fortune telling tent had been like a cage, forcing her to within that tenuous boundary between casual acquaintance and intimate knowledge of all one’s secrets. There was no pulling back when you crossed that threshold.
A shiver rippled across her hide, the kiss of night a welcome touch to the unsettling warmth against her skin. The majority of festival goers had moved on towards the bonfire and the promise of moonlit lovers pulling each other close to chase the early spring chill away. Nefertari could think of nothing less attractive in that moment, the idea of writhing bodies and heightened emotions fueled by wine and loose tongues.
No, she would not be attending the dance; not until the night had passed into the wee hours of the morning, and those hot tempers would have faded to soft embers and she could enjoy the peace that came with Caligo’s moon.
The mare cast her golden sight to the clear skies, grateful for the swath of stars that twinkled down at her. The darkness soothed her frayed nerves and as she released a great sigh, her dancer’s canons moved her towards the heart of the festival. She resolved to keep her distance, for the noble blood in her could hardly resist the atmosphere of intoxication and revelry; the clairvoyance would see to it that she kept herself in line. After the day’s arduous task of reading fortunes for the curious of Novus, fielding questions from those who came with good nature and those whose intent was to heckle her into admitting fraudulence, she was exhausted. There would be little left in place to protect herself, the walls she had erected so carefully now nothing more than brittle bone.
Skirting the edge of the bonfire, the Solterran watched idly as couples pulled each other close and friends toasted. A smile played at her lips, a fondness for the excitement of it all creeping into her bodice. At her heart she was a socialite, an entertainer, and even though the berth she gave the dancers was for her own good, there swelled a significant part of her that begged her to throw caution to the wind.
People exhausted her, but they also fueled her, quickened her blood and summoned brilliant visions to dance before her eyes. As much as her gifts had been a curse in her youth - and truth be told she was still young, no matter the weight of her soul- they had also given her boundless opportunity. At the very least, they sufficed an excellent parlor trick to those who did not know better.
Nefertari settled herself at the far end of the bonfire, the light of the flames licking at the shadows of her pelt, a futile attempt to coax her in closer. From the darkness her audits pick out a throaty laugh, low and broken. Deep grief coloured that sound and it pulled at her gut, sharply. The mare turns, honey-gold eyes searching the deep nothing for signs of origin. Caligo’s blessed moon does not reveal this secret, as much as her vision probes for answers.
The only indicator that she’s not simply hearing shadows whisper is the prickle along her spine. The clairvoyant senses something in the darkness, an ache that she cannot quite identify, other than it is not her own. Her elongated ears strain forward, watching and waiting.
“Hello,” she breathed, feeling momentarily foolish for the open call, an invitation for those with dastardly intentions to approach. She cannot shake the feeling that she is not alone, and if Caligo will not enlighten her, then so be it. She’ll find out her damned self.
art by pacificdash character by scapeh table by sunny
