Caelum
don't have a crystal ball
i can't predict the future
can't see nothing at all
There is a sense of anxiety that grows in her belly.
That ball of movement, and jitters, and heat continues to grow with each card. Pentacles and Cups and Horses in poses, none of it made sense, but as more cards are laid out, that ball of rustling mesh in her belly grows, and grows, and grows. And then the woman is speaking. The 'he' catches Caelum's attention and she looks up, puzzled. Someone not speaking truths? Well. Boleyn never answers her questions directly. Vikander doesn't really talk to her at all. At least Seb is open with her. But if it's someone not speaking truths - and she's not seeing it - it must be the weakness of Boleyn and his actions surely. Where his actions, so similar to Trey's so long ago make her clouded to the truth . . . or could it be related too . . . "Do, uh, do they say which he it is?? There is kinda a few options." She admitted awkwardly, "Just friends I mean. I do not just lay with any man I meet . . . but."
Caelum feels that need to bolt again.
Could she have made herself out to be any more of a whore. She wasn't necessarily falling into men . . . it was just talking . . . The next card is pushed forward and Caelum frowns when she is told to look inside, to ask what makes her afraid. Caelum doesn't want to of course, that was why she was here, why she was avoiding actual soul searching. Because running from the past was easier. Running from the future was easier. Running from the pain was easier. She'd been fighting so long, easy was nice. But causing her own grief, likely isn't. She can see the logic in the mare's words. To just accept things, to move forward, but that was where she struggled. That was where the crippling pain of regret and loss brought her to her knees and she fell victim to the weight with out anyone there to help her hold it up.
It had become too much weight for one person.
And a large part of that was from her continual running from accepting herself so she could accept that weight. She flinches visibly when she's told she knows who she is. For a moment she can almost taste summer on her tongue, feel it on her back. SHe shakes these phantom sensations away, swallowing hard as she's told to accept who you've always meant to be . . . But it wasn't her. It was his father. Is father wore Summer like a cloak. Her mother whispered to the flowers and made them snuggle. Not her, never here. Even as the image in the final card is pushed forward, Caelum's eyes are terrified now, "I . . . I don't want to be her . . . I don't want to be that mare." Her voice is suddenly so much younger than her age betrays, her proper speech and mannerisms disappearing in a moment of weakness. Like a little filly begging for her mother. "It's not me . . . They are my parents titles. My father's duty to uphold. Momma's gift. Not mine. They didn't give them to me. It wasn't passed down. It's like I stole them, just as they were stolen from me. I . . . I don't want it." The truth stung her so hard, hearing that proclamation, and knowing a part of her was being honest, even if a larger part of her rose up to deny it. "I don't want it like this. She amends, and it feels better, right.
She reaches towards that happy card, her muzzle caressing the edges.
"Do we truly get second chances at happiness? What about third? or fourth? I've had it before - more than once. And it was always stolen from me so soon. Is it wrong to be afraid? History repeats itself . . . . Any historian could show evidence of this." The inner child is soothed, and slowly Caelum comes back to herself, her words and speech pattern smoothing out, the contractions going away again, "History has repeated in my life three times already. There is far more than just my happiness to lose, every time my world falls apart, the catastrophe has further reach . . ." She sighs, "That is what I have been telling myself for so long, that is. I know so much of it is fear on my part to take those steps. There is so much I have been running from, so much I feel guilty for. But when I try to take on those burdens, work through them; it feels like a I am suffocating beneath those pressures."
She sighes again, shaking her head once, twice, three times.
"And my destiny, should not have been handed to me like this. It iss not my time to take the mantle. It is wrong. I have done nothing to deserve the gifts my parents weild." The fae drops her head, and for the first time in the going on four years since her parents death, the words leave her muzzle, out loud, acknowledging that fact for the first time in Novus, "I am a pitiful excuse for Summer Queen." The seelie mare admits, seemingly slumping into the pillows, "I am not worthy to carry the mantle of the season."
"Speech"
Thoughts
@Nefertari
Notes: <3
That ball of movement, and jitters, and heat continues to grow with each card. Pentacles and Cups and Horses in poses, none of it made sense, but as more cards are laid out, that ball of rustling mesh in her belly grows, and grows, and grows. And then the woman is speaking. The 'he' catches Caelum's attention and she looks up, puzzled. Someone not speaking truths? Well. Boleyn never answers her questions directly. Vikander doesn't really talk to her at all. At least Seb is open with her. But if it's someone not speaking truths - and she's not seeing it - it must be the weakness of Boleyn and his actions surely. Where his actions, so similar to Trey's so long ago make her clouded to the truth . . . or could it be related too . . . "Do, uh, do they say which he it is?? There is kinda a few options." She admitted awkwardly, "Just friends I mean. I do not just lay with any man I meet . . . but."
Caelum feels that need to bolt again.
Could she have made herself out to be any more of a whore. She wasn't necessarily falling into men . . . it was just talking . . . The next card is pushed forward and Caelum frowns when she is told to look inside, to ask what makes her afraid. Caelum doesn't want to of course, that was why she was here, why she was avoiding actual soul searching. Because running from the past was easier. Running from the future was easier. Running from the pain was easier. She'd been fighting so long, easy was nice. But causing her own grief, likely isn't. She can see the logic in the mare's words. To just accept things, to move forward, but that was where she struggled. That was where the crippling pain of regret and loss brought her to her knees and she fell victim to the weight with out anyone there to help her hold it up.
It had become too much weight for one person.
And a large part of that was from her continual running from accepting herself so she could accept that weight. She flinches visibly when she's told she knows who she is. For a moment she can almost taste summer on her tongue, feel it on her back. SHe shakes these phantom sensations away, swallowing hard as she's told to accept who you've always meant to be . . . But it wasn't her. It was his father. Is father wore Summer like a cloak. Her mother whispered to the flowers and made them snuggle. Not her, never here. Even as the image in the final card is pushed forward, Caelum's eyes are terrified now, "I . . . I don't want to be her . . . I don't want to be that mare." Her voice is suddenly so much younger than her age betrays, her proper speech and mannerisms disappearing in a moment of weakness. Like a little filly begging for her mother. "It's not me . . . They are my parents titles. My father's duty to uphold. Momma's gift. Not mine. They didn't give them to me. It wasn't passed down. It's like I stole them, just as they were stolen from me. I . . . I don't want it." The truth stung her so hard, hearing that proclamation, and knowing a part of her was being honest, even if a larger part of her rose up to deny it. "I don't want it like this. She amends, and it feels better, right.
She reaches towards that happy card, her muzzle caressing the edges.
"Do we truly get second chances at happiness? What about third? or fourth? I've had it before - more than once. And it was always stolen from me so soon. Is it wrong to be afraid? History repeats itself . . . . Any historian could show evidence of this." The inner child is soothed, and slowly Caelum comes back to herself, her words and speech pattern smoothing out, the contractions going away again, "History has repeated in my life three times already. There is far more than just my happiness to lose, every time my world falls apart, the catastrophe has further reach . . ." She sighs, "That is what I have been telling myself for so long, that is. I know so much of it is fear on my part to take those steps. There is so much I have been running from, so much I feel guilty for. But when I try to take on those burdens, work through them; it feels like a I am suffocating beneath those pressures."
She sighes again, shaking her head once, twice, three times.
"And my destiny, should not have been handed to me like this. It iss not my time to take the mantle. It is wrong. I have done nothing to deserve the gifts my parents weild." The fae drops her head, and for the first time in the going on four years since her parents death, the words leave her muzzle, out loud, acknowledging that fact for the first time in Novus, "I am a pitiful excuse for Summer Queen." The seelie mare admits, seemingly slumping into the pillows, "I am not worthy to carry the mantle of the season."
"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
