TORIELLE
It's only me who wants to wrap around your dreams
The doe watched the stallion with mild concern as he settled into the tent, his expression falling. She wondered briefly if she should not have been so bold and cut to the meat of the conversation. Perhaps it had not been polite to pry into such an obviously sensitive topic. Her dark features flushed with embarrassment at the idea of having committed such a faux pa with the kind gentleman who had offered to salvage her evening. Before her lips could part with an apology, however, Vreis began to speak and instead, Torielle tilted her head slightly, bells swaying between her antlers as she listened.
It seemed to pain him, just a little, to retell this story, and though it was like many that the scholar had heard or seen before, it pulled at her heartstrings. Too often men were twisted by their loyalties, that very precious thing used against them by those in power, or abused by those that they trusted. It was a cruel thing, loyalty, when given blindly. But how could one not, given the conditions? If she had been abandoned, then scooped up into the arms of a willing mother, would she herself not bend to every possible will in order to please the one who raised her from nothingness?
He paused, and the mare thought that perhaps he was seeing the woman’s face before him, like a mirage. Tori imagined for a moment what she might have looked like, and her minds-eye conjured the visage of dark, curly hair and deep eyes, pleading with all their soul for freedom. Her heart lurched, the woman shifting unconsciously, as if to accommodate the stone in her chest. Clearly the decision still weighed heavily on the knight; regret, and perhaps sorrow evident in his gaze.
Vreis spoke of his former king’s actions, his tone hushed. The mare shook her head, bells chiming in complete disregard for the somber tone of the tale. “Tragic,” she whispered. “That such trust and loyalty should be betrayed by one so clearly gone touched by power. Madness, it seems, always rears its ugly head in the form of no longer knowing friend from foe.”
At the mention of portals, the doe’s audits perked forward, listening even more intently to the words falling from the stallion’s lips. It resonated with her, and to know that there may have been others that came to Novus in such a similar way provided her some comfort. The mare relaxed a little more, leaning in closer to her white knight.
“I am sure that your people will find a way to forgive you, if not that, then they will at least be thankful for the tools you gave them to fight their fight and win.” Torielle took a breath, rolling her thoughts around before continuing. “I do wish you luck,” she said, “In finding your men. Jarek aside,” the name felt sour on her tongue and she couldn’t help the contortion of her features as she spoke it. “I have found that most of the denizens of Novus to be rather helpful folks, and I am sure that once you begin to look and ask around, you will find a helpful lead.”
The mare nudged him playfully on the shoulder with her muzzle, being mindful of her antlers and the small, cozy space. “Though I will say, it is somewhat of a relief to hear that someone’s journey mirrors that of my own.” She gave a lighthearted chuckle.
“Where I come from, I am a Sage, a scholar, a collector of stories. We use the art of Planes-Walking as we call it, to let our souls wander the Astral and inhabit other worlds to record histories and individual lives without interrupting the natural flow of the cultures and peoples that we are viewing. It’s generally a highly supervised practice, a spiritual practice, and one that takes many years to master.” Torielle smiled, indicating the elaborate hoop that circled from her nares.
“We can be identified by our piercings, as well as our vows to Gaia. Celibacy and to be made barren in exchange to live countless lifetimes in pursuit of knowledge.” The mare shifted again, becoming more comfortable. It was not often that she spoke about herself, preferring to hear the tales of others more than recounting what she considered to be a rather boring life.
“There is a belief among my people, however, that those who are chosen by Gaia for a higher calling, will not only pull their souls through the Astral, but their bodies as well, to finish out their lives within whatever dimension she sees fit. It’s considered an honour, reserved for only the oldest, wisest, most cherished of our knowledge seekers.” The woman looked down sheepishly, her words less confident as she continued.
“I’m not entirely sure why it was that I was brought to Novus. I’m only a babe, really, merely thirty years, though to my understanding, Ameyal ages her peoples very differently from other places. I believe here I am…” Torielle paused, trying to work through the numbers. It had been some years since she had come to Novus, and while those years were but a blink of her old life, they weighed more heavily now. “Five years,” she said finally. “Still a babe in my eyes, but old enough by any other equine standard, I’m sure.”
She tried to wave off the thought with a flick of her tail, getting back to the important part of her story. “I had been meditating privately, seeking guidance from Gaia, when I began to walk the Astral. I’m not sure when it started, or how long I was there, but when I emerged from the monochrome in-between, I found myself in the dead of winter, within the Viride Forest of Delumine. While magic was something that was known to me, I’d never really experienced it personally the way I have since coming to be here.” The mare forced a chuckle, lightening the mood that suddenly felt so sour in her heart.
“The first soul I met when coming through that fog was a stallion who wore lightning like a cloak across his wings- at first I thought he might have been a god. It was a real shock to find out he was nothing more than a citizen patrolling the borders of the land. Since then, I have found that Novus is quite full of magic users, and that to be blessed by the gods with such gifts is not a rare occurrence in the slightest.”
art by the-day-of-shadow character by scapeh table by sunny
