N
ot quite as delighted by the appearance of the wave, seemingly drawn from the ocean by her mention of it, the girl does smile, despite her melancholy, inward mood. The pleasure of the gentleman alongside her is infectious, after all, and she is the sort of girl who adores the playfulness of fate, as much as it had also caused her the pain she presently endures. Feeling the kiss of the mist left behind as the waters fall back to the sea below, the maiden also allows herself to feel as the sun draws the chilly dampness away from her cheeks and neck with its radiant warmth.“Me too,” she answers, no laughter wreathing her cheerful grin as it does stranger’s, “it’d be awful cold, this time of year.”
She implies, of course, that she wouldn’t truly mind being hit by the wave all that much, so long as it wasn’t cool or cold, as it was presently. A warm day was actually the right sort of day, if you asked Maude; nothing beat cool water when the sun seemed intent on baking you right into the ground, and made even the shady forests unbearably humid. Today, however, was the sort of day that a dousing might leave you sick, if not worse, and though the light spritzing she had received from the jettisoning wave was pleasant, she was sure more than that would be quite awful, indeed.
The distraction of the pleasantry of the sun upon her was short lived, however, for the girl could not bask in the glory of things which reminded her of her forever lost home for very long. Her tears are slow, and too obvious – the sudden tenseness of bay assures her of this. Though he tries to reassure her with what he says, it only makes it worse, and the tears flow freely, becoming a pained sob when he gently touches her shoulder.
Though they were real, they were also dead! She refrains from shouting. Her head collapses downwards, her eyes squeezing shut, and the hot tears which brimmed within them are forced out in thick, wavering treks down her face. The sun no longer feels comforting, and the sound of the sea merely wavers in-between, rather than soothing her with the steadiness of its rhythm. Though it feels as if she cries and dwells within herself for hours, it is truly only a minute or so before her crying quiets, and, very, very quietly, she murmurs:
“I – I’m sorry,” mumbles the girl, her nose shaking to and fro very slowly, her words warbling nearly incoherently with her emotions, “I… well, h-home… they…”
A heavy sigh slips through the air.
“They’re dead,” quietly continues Maude with greater composure, glancing very quickly away from the sea to the stallion, but then again seeming to lose herself in the bob and sway of the sea beyond, “so I am not sure if they are still Gods at all.”
Staring out at the ocean, she silently cries, at least until the conversation moves towards names, and the meeting. Glad that the man has forgiven her for being less than studious in a situation she probably would have been better served to have been, the cremello darling smiles and nods, finding she agrees with Asterion quite fully. Even if she’d been inside a building like that before, and hadn’t had friends about, the news that had been delivered was the sort that changed kingdoms.
Remembering when King Tembovu gave his position to Miss Lyanna, the girl wonders if the changes about the Dusk court will be similar – mostly positive, albeit strange, for a time. She certainly hopes so.
“I guess it was a worthy meeting, then,” tries to more cheerfully converse Maude, her smile faintly appearing on her still tear-dampened face as she remembers other meetings that were far, far less eventful than the previous two she’d thought about, “I’ve been to a few that were really hard to stay awake through.”
@Asterion eeee thank you <3 Asterion is very charming himself :D
