MESSALINA
Her time in the Court of Stars and Shadow was drawing to a close, and Messalina felt as if she was bidding farewell to an old friend, one who’d kept watch over her with fond eyes and soft smiles all her life. What was the feeling she’d often heard others speak of? Bittersweetness?
That was it—she clung to the feeling, holding it close to her breast like a small, fluttering bird. Listening to it’s steady heartbeat. And then away it flew, into the night-black sky, leaving her with a memory she would keep safe within the chasms of her mind. Did others do this, with their feelings? Probably not—but Messalina was a filly on wobbling legs in the rich world recently opened to her, and this had been the best way for her to truly discern each emotion as it came.
Though Delumine was her home (even now, the word felt odd within her mouth—a home that was not Algernon), Denocte had sparked a flame within the winter girl’s heart. Day by day, the memories of Mother drifted farther away from her as she walked amongst Caligo’s sons and daughters, immersing herself into their world ruled by euphoria and love and sorrow. She had wandered deep into a court propelled by the emotions of its people, and at first it had been overwhelming, like sunlight shining into the eyes of one who has not seen the sky for a lifetime. Yet slowly, steadily, Messalina learned—and link by link, the chains binding her heart loosened.
She could not leave the court without paying a visit to Denocte’s ivy-strewn castle, and tonight had been the time to do so. Hoofbeats echoed through the dimly-lit hallways of the citadel, as the girl of silk and roses moved gracefully across its marble floors. Creamy braids swished and swayed across her slender neck as she paused and marveled at the intricacy of each chandelier, tapestry, and vase she passed. Never would Denocte’s artisans stop astounding her with their masterful skill. As she wandered through the maze of endless corridors, curtsying politely at the diplomats and inhabitants she encountered, she suddenly found herself in a vast room comprised entirely of paintings.
The richly carpeted chamber was structured in a way that one had to round a corner to continue following the trail of ornate paintings, a feature which enclosed the room in a hushed sort of intimacy. As Messalina ventured inside, hoofbeats muffled by the soft floor, cerulean eyes widened with a start as she discovered that another had already stumbled upon the secluded space. And… she recognized his coat of crimson patches instantly.
"Ipomoea? Is… that you?” The girl’s soft voice almost betrayed her surprise as slim legs carried her closer towards him. It is him, isn’t it? The flurry of excitement that tingled down her spine would’ve normally stopped her in her tracks as she tried to curb it—but Messalina was lost in the revelation that she was meeting the Emissary once again after so long, and in the heart of the Night Court at that. Drawing near him, the scent of spring flowers wafted towards her; it calmed her, and a smile slipped grandly over her satin lips. It was another change about her—her smile had lost its frosty edge.
"We seem to meet always in the strangest of places,” she mused, a light chuckle escaping her as she turned her curious gaze towards the piece he’d been admiring. "I recognize this style—there was one just like it in my previous court, imported from overseas. What are the odds that I would stumble upon its predecessor?”
That was it—she clung to the feeling, holding it close to her breast like a small, fluttering bird. Listening to it’s steady heartbeat. And then away it flew, into the night-black sky, leaving her with a memory she would keep safe within the chasms of her mind. Did others do this, with their feelings? Probably not—but Messalina was a filly on wobbling legs in the rich world recently opened to her, and this had been the best way for her to truly discern each emotion as it came.
Though Delumine was her home (even now, the word felt odd within her mouth—a home that was not Algernon), Denocte had sparked a flame within the winter girl’s heart. Day by day, the memories of Mother drifted farther away from her as she walked amongst Caligo’s sons and daughters, immersing herself into their world ruled by euphoria and love and sorrow. She had wandered deep into a court propelled by the emotions of its people, and at first it had been overwhelming, like sunlight shining into the eyes of one who has not seen the sky for a lifetime. Yet slowly, steadily, Messalina learned—and link by link, the chains binding her heart loosened.
She could not leave the court without paying a visit to Denocte’s ivy-strewn castle, and tonight had been the time to do so. Hoofbeats echoed through the dimly-lit hallways of the citadel, as the girl of silk and roses moved gracefully across its marble floors. Creamy braids swished and swayed across her slender neck as she paused and marveled at the intricacy of each chandelier, tapestry, and vase she passed. Never would Denocte’s artisans stop astounding her with their masterful skill. As she wandered through the maze of endless corridors, curtsying politely at the diplomats and inhabitants she encountered, she suddenly found herself in a vast room comprised entirely of paintings.
The richly carpeted chamber was structured in a way that one had to round a corner to continue following the trail of ornate paintings, a feature which enclosed the room in a hushed sort of intimacy. As Messalina ventured inside, hoofbeats muffled by the soft floor, cerulean eyes widened with a start as she discovered that another had already stumbled upon the secluded space. And… she recognized his coat of crimson patches instantly.
eyes so blue,
I drown.
I drown.
@Ipomoea
-flails- ;u;
-flails- ;u;
