M E S S A L I N A . //
Messalina tried hard to hide the excitement bubbling up in her chest, but she didn’t have much experience with suppressing her emotions. It was usually a struggle just to have any. As more and more stallions and mares alike trotted through the powdery snow towards them, their original group of five expanded to seven, eight, nine.... she quickly lost count. Never in her life had she been surrounded by so many unfamiliar faces, and it was overwhelming to say the least; yet she was intrigued at the thought of meeting others, so she resorted to bowing politely at the ones who met her distant gaze.
Without meaning to, the ivory girl inched closer towards Ipomoea. He was the only one she truly knew (and even then not that well) but she found his presence comforting and... surprisingly pleasant. The crimson painted boy’s gentle touch of greeting had surprised her—physical contact either received or given was an anomaly to the stoic dancer—yet a soft smile turned her rosy lips upwards nevertheless.
So consider her aptly shocked when the snowman began to speak.
With a start, Messalina sprang backwards, almost landing on the Emissary in her fright. She sidestepped him at the last second, and with cerulean eyes as wide as saucepans, gaped at the suddenly alive creation of snow. Was it some sort of magic? Mother had enchanted her dolls to speak, so a talking snowman wasn’t a far stretch, she supposed. Yet Mother was considerably powerful to be able to cast such a complex spell; did someone in Novus possess such strong abilities? Puzzled, she peered sidelong at Ipomoea though snowy lashes. He had built the curious creature—perhaps the boy’s innocent cerise eyes concealed fantastical magical powers.
So bewildered was she that Messalina barely registered the snowman’s joke, wide eyes snapping instead to the roseate mare that stepped boldly out of the stunned crowd towards the snowman. What is she saying? Messalina wondered, quizzically surveying the dappled woman’s words and forced smile. Jokes were foreign objects to the solemn girl’s ears; she wouldn’t know what to laugh at even if she somehow understood.
Inherently wary at anything that involved strange magic (Mother’s spells had backfired more than once, and Messalina had often been the one to pay for it), she failed to pick up on the distress of the rose-grey lady and instead turned to the Emissary once again.
@Ipomoea, @Adelheid
notes: @ sid Messa is just plain confused, @ Townsen she left poor Adelheid hanging, so clueless ^^;
