TORIELLE
It's only me who wants to wrap around your dreams
Torielle froze as Vreis extended his muzzle towards her, watching him warily, searching his expression for any sign of ill intent. When none became immediately apparent, she relaxed, the tension releasing from her shoulders, and he merely booped one of the many small bells that hung between her ivory branches. She felt immensely foolish for being so skittish in his approach, even though the mare knew that she had every right to be nervous, considering her recent encounter with Jarek.
The tome he had given her seemed to weigh like a brick against her side, where she kept it tucked. She’d have to figure out what to do with it, as she hadn’t really wanted to carry it with her through the festival, but had felt she was given no choice other than to accept the gifts from the brute. She hadn’t wanted to think about what kind of volatile reaction he may have had if she had rejected him outright, his obsession burning behind his motivations to woo her. That’s what he was doing, wasn’t he? Trying to woo her, because some gods from his homeland proclaimed that she was some kind of gift wrapped just for him. Her stomach turned queasy at the thought, and she was thankful for the distraction that Vreis provided, leading her away from the bonfire. Away from the scene of the crime.
“I’ve found that nonsense happy tales are much too sterile to be believed. There is happiness in the world, yes,” she said, following the stallion as he wove through the fabricated hallways of tents. “But I think it is foolish to believe that we are only made of happy endings and fulfilling stories. Real people experience life, all of life, in its darkest forms sometimes. Those stories are the ones that really shape us, I think. You never know who a person really is until you see them bend or break under pressure. Until you see them faced with an impossible decision. Until the ground crumbles beneath their hooves and all the world is in their grasp. Those are the stories that make a person.”
Torielle followed him blindly, certain that she wouldn’t get lost in the festival. After all, the grounds were within Delumine, and the field itself, while expansive, did not go on forever. The bonfire was a centrepoint of activity, and should she really need to find her way back, it would be relatively easy. Was this perhaps naive of her? In every sense of the word. But Vreis had shown her a trusting face, and she had already felt miles more comfortable with him than with Jarek. She’d deemed him to be not a threat, but a shield, despite all the dangerous weapons he carried with him, not least of which were the sword at his side or his own rack of bone filed into careful points.
He led her to a collection of small tents, the fabrics loose around their wooden poles, closing them off from the general flurry of activity surrounding the festival goers. She saw pockets of lovers pulled close, whispering sweet nothings, giggling lightly, though there were a few who looked like close friends simply seeking refuge from the crowds, much like herself.
Vreis stood awkwardly, pulling the curtain to a vacant tent aside, an apology and explanation falling from his lips. Surely he had only Torielle’s best interest in mind. After all, he had intervened and made sure that she was not left alone to be tormented by Jarek again if the stallion caught wind that she was not in fact with another acquaintance.
The mare shook her head, bells ringing merrily. “No no, not at all. I understand.” She stepped inside, her dappled body brushing against his mottled coat as she moved past in the small space. “I’d rather be out of sight than risk running into him again, anyways,” she said, settling down onto the large cushion inside the tent. There was only one, but she didn’t mind sharing. After all, Vreis was polite, and it would only be courteous to do so. He had been so kind in offering his aide and company, the least she could do was share a space with him while they swapped stories.
“How is it you came to Novus?” The mare enquired without much pretense, her tiara cocking slightly, ears pricked forward, eager to hear of his arrival. Her own had been fairly routine, at least in terms of astral projection. Until she had realized more than just her soul construct had crossed over from Ameyal to this strange, but beautiful place. Beautiful because Veil Nebula also called it home. She hoped that wherever the star was, she was happy, and comfortable. They had made plans to dance, and the doe was determined to still do so. She would talk with Vreis until she felt safe, and then she would go in search of the mare that made her heart flutter so that they could share a dance.
art by the-day-of-shadow character by scapeh table by sunny
