boudika
she looked over his shoulder, for vines and olive trees; marble, well-governed cities, ships upon wine-dark seas
The serenity Boudika experienced, still and breathless before the beauty of the ice castle, was as ephemeral as the work itself. For just a moment, brief and nearly imperceivable, her mind and heart were utterly still: even the voices and images of the past were held at bay, the void opened by a chasm of her own imagination. Boudika did not know what Orestes would have thought, and so the idea fell away easily and remained unpursued. Nevertheless, this peace of mind rarely lasted for Boudika.
She was not surprised to hear another’s voice. Something magnificent indeed. The mare turned to assess the newcomer; she was a dark, painted mare with heterochromic eyes and a look of the wild and untamed. Boudika thought, perhaps, she looked familiar; in the same sense that many of Denoctian’s people did, despite Boudika knowing very few by name. Perhaps she had seen the other in the marketplace. Or not at all.
If nothing else, Boudika admired her audacity. The warlander simply rolled her shoulders in a shrug. “Neither can most of us, for more than a decade or so. We’re transient, too… Most of us just less beautiful, and less magnificent.” For a moment, Boudika continued to appraise Morrighan, with the way that Boudika had: clear, unhidden eyes. The colour of them was nearly volatile in the lantern-light, and against a backdrop so pristine—the stark contrast of blood-red against white, of crimson and virgin snow.
“I’m going to explore it, if you would like to join.” The offer was delivered in a neutral tone: neither inviting, nor cold. Thus far, the entire encounter reminded Boudika strangely of the sea: although it was pristinely beautiful, in a way reserved for the grandiose manifestations of life. Transient. The difference here was there was no subdued violence, no promise of destruction in the form of wave or storm. Boudika cast her gaze toward the castle; and once more at her potential companion. “I’m Boudika, by the way. I’m a dancer in Denocte.” Something about the other woman’s demeanour reminded her distinctly of a warrior and, once again, that idea sat oddly with her.
After all, she had risked her life and freedom for a privilege that women in Novus were allotted without reservation. It was a gamble Boudika had ultimately lost and to be reminded of the differences between Novus and her homeland, so starkly, always felt borderline insulting through no fault of anyone in particular. The copper-and-black mare began to pick her way through the ice toward the lighted entrance of the castle, feeling once more overwhelmed by the newness of the land.
BUT THERE ON THE SHINING METAL HIS HANDS HAD PUT INSTEAD, AN ARTIFICIAL WILDERNESS, AND A SKY LIKE LEAD. A PLAIN WITHOUT A FEATURE, NO BLADE OF GRASS, NO SIGN OF NEIGHBOURHOOD NOTHING TO EAT AND NOWHERE TO SIT DOWN; YET CONGREGATED ON THAT BLANKNESS STOOD AN UNINTELLIGIBLE MULTITUDE, A MILLION EYES, A MILLION BOOTS, IN LINE, WITHOUT EXPRESSION, WAITING FOR A SIGN.
@Morrighan ! So sorry this took a bit!
