N I M U E
CERTAIN AS THE SUN, RISING IN THE EAST
TALE AS OLD AS TIME, BEAUTY AND THE BEAST -
TALE AS OLD AS TIME, BEAUTY AND THE BEAST -
A beast in pretty, rose-colored skin. A monster kissed by dapples the color of muted stars. That was who she was. Now, more than ever, as she paced a deep circular path beneath a golden tree. Her frustration broiling with every clipped step she took, every sharp intake of breath that swept into her nostrils. The desperation hidden beneath tasting of shards of glass; tiny pin pricks of pain shuddering through the thin paper of her lungs, her ribs. Air trapped and on fire in the cavity of her chest. She was on fire with her hatred.. not of the mystic who spoke half-truths, brutally honest truths.. but hatred for herself. Of the cruel woman she had become. The reputation that followed in her wake.
The Witch Child who saw All; her bewitching gaze as quick as any blade. A complete lie. Her whole mortal life... a lie.
She had been damned to this world because she fell in love. A witch, a once-immortal seeress.. blessed to even have tasted the wonders of love in the first place. How could she be upset? How could she act on vengeance? Revenge on whom? The Universe? Her father, the Maker of Time? Maybe even her brother.. who's shared knowledge across the timelines was equal to her own. Surely, he must have seen her fate.. and let it happen. Let her seal her own curse, the second she had laid eyes on that handsome, night-blessed man.
But no.. she only had herself to blame. Not Phobos, not her brother, and surely not the mystic with her silly deck of cards.
Nimue stood there then, wallowing in her own grey spirits, her mind attacking itself with every brutal truth and lie without abandon. She was drowning in her own emotions and the wild storm of her heart. The witch's frustration and longing manifesting into her own personal storm.. so much so, she barely heard the whisper of a figure coming up to her in the darkness and the firelight.
Well hello there. Are you enjoying yourself?
His voice cut through the music, the pounding drums, and the screaming of her own thoughts. Like a knife, she heard him, crystal clear despite the noise thundering in her ears. Nimue whirled, her blood singing in sudden excitement, eyes widening as she prepared to look at him.. the man she loved. But as her gaze settled upon him, eyes catching on his own and the stars kissing his skin.. she realized, with sickening clarity, how their last meeting had fared. How her burst of rage blinded her in crimson; how her emotions had broiled, and how she stormed away like a hurricane into the shadows, leaving him alone in the forest glade. Her gut twisted at the memory like a rusted dagger had struck her in her stomach.
The truth of who she had once been stared at her in the face; the ghost of that first meeting hidden in the mismatched hues of her eyes and underneath the facade plastered on her face. Don't you ever, ever — we barely know each other —
She shook her crown, wildly, in attempt to rid the phantom of her poisonous words from her brain, but to no avail. Instead, a hint of a smile played at her lips in distraction. He was the distraction.. because regardless of how she felt, or how wounded she had become, Nimue was glad. Happy, even, but content. Grateful, that Astarael had sought her out in the crowd of bodies to find her. She couldn't hide how thankful she was, no matter if a rain cloud was churning above her head or not. Her eyes simply widen and dilated at the sight of him; how the firelight flickered against the stars mottling his skin, caressing the darkness of his coat and flirting with the constellations laid out like a map over his entire body. He was a god in her eyes. Ethereal and unreal and so many wicked lovely things that she simply did not know what to say.
Would you like to go somewhere a little quieter…or do you have other plans for this lovely evening?
Nimue realized then that words had truly failed her, as she nearly choked on a reply. She cleared her throat, heat rising to her cheeks as she momentarily blinked her gaze away. Astarael was the only one who did such things to her; her mask a mess, her witch reputation out the window. He made her feel like her legs were made of liquid instead of flesh and bone. Her heart a mad little bird that fluttered against her ribs and robbed the oxygen in her lungs. But she reigned it, clearing her throat and forcing herself to speak, despite the enchantment he had unknowingly curled around her heart, her soul, and her entire body.
A grin blossomed across her pink lips then; no longer a ghost, but something incredibly real and wonderful. "M-my slate is clean," she replies, her voice raspy as smoke coated her lungs and he stole what little breath she had, "my date is with fire and stars, should you wish to join me." Suddenly bold, untamed, as the festival brought to life something in her she did not recognize. Maybe it was him, maybe not, she didn't know.
But she realized then, with crystalline clarity, that she didn't care about her hatred for crowds, or the mystic and her cards, or how she had desired nothing more than to disappear into the confines of her library not moments before.
There was only him, and her, and the fire and stars that fell down around them both in heat and the mysterious allure of night fall.
The Witch Child who saw All; her bewitching gaze as quick as any blade. A complete lie. Her whole mortal life... a lie.
She had been damned to this world because she fell in love. A witch, a once-immortal seeress.. blessed to even have tasted the wonders of love in the first place. How could she be upset? How could she act on vengeance? Revenge on whom? The Universe? Her father, the Maker of Time? Maybe even her brother.. who's shared knowledge across the timelines was equal to her own. Surely, he must have seen her fate.. and let it happen. Let her seal her own curse, the second she had laid eyes on that handsome, night-blessed man.
But no.. she only had herself to blame. Not Phobos, not her brother, and surely not the mystic with her silly deck of cards.
Nimue stood there then, wallowing in her own grey spirits, her mind attacking itself with every brutal truth and lie without abandon. She was drowning in her own emotions and the wild storm of her heart. The witch's frustration and longing manifesting into her own personal storm.. so much so, she barely heard the whisper of a figure coming up to her in the darkness and the firelight.
Well hello there. Are you enjoying yourself?
His voice cut through the music, the pounding drums, and the screaming of her own thoughts. Like a knife, she heard him, crystal clear despite the noise thundering in her ears. Nimue whirled, her blood singing in sudden excitement, eyes widening as she prepared to look at him.. the man she loved. But as her gaze settled upon him, eyes catching on his own and the stars kissing his skin.. she realized, with sickening clarity, how their last meeting had fared. How her burst of rage blinded her in crimson; how her emotions had broiled, and how she stormed away like a hurricane into the shadows, leaving him alone in the forest glade. Her gut twisted at the memory like a rusted dagger had struck her in her stomach.
The truth of who she had once been stared at her in the face; the ghost of that first meeting hidden in the mismatched hues of her eyes and underneath the facade plastered on her face. Don't you ever, ever — we barely know each other —
She shook her crown, wildly, in attempt to rid the phantom of her poisonous words from her brain, but to no avail. Instead, a hint of a smile played at her lips in distraction. He was the distraction.. because regardless of how she felt, or how wounded she had become, Nimue was glad. Happy, even, but content. Grateful, that Astarael had sought her out in the crowd of bodies to find her. She couldn't hide how thankful she was, no matter if a rain cloud was churning above her head or not. Her eyes simply widen and dilated at the sight of him; how the firelight flickered against the stars mottling his skin, caressing the darkness of his coat and flirting with the constellations laid out like a map over his entire body. He was a god in her eyes. Ethereal and unreal and so many wicked lovely things that she simply did not know what to say.
Would you like to go somewhere a little quieter…or do you have other plans for this lovely evening?
Nimue realized then that words had truly failed her, as she nearly choked on a reply. She cleared her throat, heat rising to her cheeks as she momentarily blinked her gaze away. Astarael was the only one who did such things to her; her mask a mess, her witch reputation out the window. He made her feel like her legs were made of liquid instead of flesh and bone. Her heart a mad little bird that fluttered against her ribs and robbed the oxygen in her lungs. But she reigned it, clearing her throat and forcing herself to speak, despite the enchantment he had unknowingly curled around her heart, her soul, and her entire body.
A grin blossomed across her pink lips then; no longer a ghost, but something incredibly real and wonderful. "M-my slate is clean," she replies, her voice raspy as smoke coated her lungs and he stole what little breath she had, "my date is with fire and stars, should you wish to join me." Suddenly bold, untamed, as the festival brought to life something in her she did not recognize. Maybe it was him, maybe not, she didn't know.
But she realized then, with crystalline clarity, that she didn't care about her hatred for crowds, or the mystic and her cards, or how she had desired nothing more than to disappear into the confines of her library not moments before.
There was only him, and her, and the fire and stars that fell down around them both in heat and the mysterious allure of night fall.
@astarael <3
"Nimue speech."
