Caelum
don't have a crystal ball
i can't predict the future
can't see nothing at all
Had you asked, the fae would have denied her stance.
That she was at the turning point in her life. A path that would lead to despair, but regrowth. A path of suffrage, that if she played her own cards just right, she'd come out of it more sure of the ground she stands on. She is uncertain as she stands at the doorway of one such place that could hold the answers to the questions she does not know she has. To questions, she's not sure she wants to know. The teller motions then, towards the empty pillow, and the fae moves forward half a step before pausing when the flowers follow her that short distance.
Her wings snap open, carrying her that distance instead.
It's the first solid evidence of her own dismissal of who she is. The Summer Queen denies the flowers their mistress. It was her mother they should be clinging to, not to her limbs. She folds herself onto the pillow, limbs tucking under her delicately, her hair falling across the floor in an ivory carpet, those long locks gently curling at the ends as they lay in rest. Why was she here again? Sitting down now, she felt like her heart would hammer out of her chest.
But she didn't move.
The smile offered had been gentle, and Caelum returned it in kind, with all the grace of a queen at her disposal. Her head inclines, eyes half-closed, the picture-perfect representation of poise and grace. Where the mare greets her, the greeting from her muzzle alarms her own muzzle startles her even more than her willing approach, "Salve, Nefertari." The tongue of her people flows, gentle, the accent usually there a little more distinct by the natural use of latin.
She flushes, fidgeting slightly, "I mean . . . hello."
Where had that come from? The summer fae was more uncertain than ever of her approach, and yet she did not move, instead, she offered a frail smile when she is told that if she was led here, it's for a reason, "I have no intention to lie, it is the reason I am most afraid of . . . But . . . I grow weary of running." The fae admitted, as she watches the cards begin to be shuffled, told that even if she does not have a question in mind, there is an answer waiting for her.
She was wrong, she realizes; as her heart clenches on the word 'Answer'.
Still, the deck is soon shuffled and cut into three equal piles on the center of the table, and the child of summer quietly nods her head, before indicating to the left most pile, "That one seems to shine to me, but it may also just be the sun." She finally states, her voice hesitant, but unwavering. She may be nervous about what was to come - but she had no intention to back away now.
She had made it this far, after all.
"Speech"
Thoughts
@Nefertari
Notes: <3
That she was at the turning point in her life. A path that would lead to despair, but regrowth. A path of suffrage, that if she played her own cards just right, she'd come out of it more sure of the ground she stands on. She is uncertain as she stands at the doorway of one such place that could hold the answers to the questions she does not know she has. To questions, she's not sure she wants to know. The teller motions then, towards the empty pillow, and the fae moves forward half a step before pausing when the flowers follow her that short distance.
Her wings snap open, carrying her that distance instead.
It's the first solid evidence of her own dismissal of who she is. The Summer Queen denies the flowers their mistress. It was her mother they should be clinging to, not to her limbs. She folds herself onto the pillow, limbs tucking under her delicately, her hair falling across the floor in an ivory carpet, those long locks gently curling at the ends as they lay in rest. Why was she here again? Sitting down now, she felt like her heart would hammer out of her chest.
But she didn't move.
The smile offered had been gentle, and Caelum returned it in kind, with all the grace of a queen at her disposal. Her head inclines, eyes half-closed, the picture-perfect representation of poise and grace. Where the mare greets her, the greeting from her muzzle alarms her own muzzle startles her even more than her willing approach, "Salve, Nefertari." The tongue of her people flows, gentle, the accent usually there a little more distinct by the natural use of latin.
She flushes, fidgeting slightly, "I mean . . . hello."
Where had that come from? The summer fae was more uncertain than ever of her approach, and yet she did not move, instead, she offered a frail smile when she is told that if she was led here, it's for a reason, "I have no intention to lie, it is the reason I am most afraid of . . . But . . . I grow weary of running." The fae admitted, as she watches the cards begin to be shuffled, told that even if she does not have a question in mind, there is an answer waiting for her.
She was wrong, she realizes; as her heart clenches on the word 'Answer'.
Still, the deck is soon shuffled and cut into three equal piles on the center of the table, and the child of summer quietly nods her head, before indicating to the left most pile, "That one seems to shine to me, but it may also just be the sun." She finally states, her voice hesitant, but unwavering. She may be nervous about what was to come - but she had no intention to back away now.
She had made it this far, after all.
"Speech"
Thoughts
@Nefertari
Notes: <3
of all the things that you say
but i just think we should stay
stuck in the moment today
art by bingo
