NEFERTARI
We've Become Disillusioned
So We Run Towards Anything Glimmering
Do you not like festivals, prophet?
The query from the darkness startled her, and the mare’s breath caught in her throat. It was a rare thing for her gifts to be recognized before she had a chance to introduce herself. Even then, most thought of her as a purveyor of parlor tricks and good times at best, a charlatan at their worst, similar to one particularly sour client she spoke with earlier that day. The mare had good reason to be wary of her, however, and Nefertari couldn’t find it in her heart to hold it against the woman.
This open acceptance of her talents, however, was something else entirely. Her skin twitched, shifting uncomfortably under the weight of that perfect darkness, a shroud for whomever or whatever she was speaking with. Though the festival continued on mere yards away the joyous music and revelry faded into the background, the pop and crackle of the bonfire the only distinctive sound that remained on her registry.
Well, if this strange being was so pointed about her gifts there was no need to hide them. No need to play coy, no need to dress it in colourful language and pretense. There was something almost freeing in that realization and the dusky mare forced herself to relax, finally letting loose the breath she had strangled in her chest.
“Only when I have to encounter more than a fair share of disingenuous types,” she answered to the deepening shadows. Even Caligo’s bright moon could not pierce the darkness as it lingered overhead and the woman had the sense enough to know that this shroud was some sort of magic, even if it was of a caliber far beyond her own.
“I’ve had my fill of drunken stupor and false enlightenment for the day,” Nefertari stated simply, turning her gaze from the prickling shadows at her side and towards the dancers moving about the bonfire.
“I find Caligo’s moon to be a…” she paused, mulling over the next words to say, struggling to describe her feelings towards the goddess of her home court. “Salve of sorts, to the rawness of people. She is blessedly grounding; steady and illuminating. I find more comfort in her presence than I do among party guests, even if I am far too much of a socialite for a true clairvoyant.”
Her golden orbs found their way back to the tingling shadow, peering into their depths. “Though if you are going to engage someone in conversation, it’s considered polite to at the very least make your visage known.”
art by pacificdash character by scapeh table by sunny
