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Novus closed 10/31/2022, after The Gentle Exodus

Private  - There is a lighthouse, five hundred yards down

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Played by Offline Dyzzie [PM] Posts: 103 — Threads: 12
Signos: 125
Vagabond Monk
Female [She/Her/They/Theirs]  |  7 [Year 503 Summer]  |  15.1 hh  |  Hth: 46 — Atk: 14 — Exp: 69  |    Active Magic: Stellar Divination  |    Bonded: N/A
#7


V e i l N e b u l a
Visions of your pretty face send me into hyper space
Caught up in a palentary world

the star feels that curiosity building, as it's threaded through the spinning wheel, and being created into something softer, gentle inquiries and soft words. Emotion giving birth to communication - what little words she had of it to offer forth. So she tilts her head, she smiles softly; curious to learn, wise enough to take what she learns with caution. A being both new, and old, ancient and fresh. A melody of opposites that is reflected in the fellow's coat. The collision of atoms as old as time, fusing together into a body as new as first snow in winter.

The conversation is slow, led by her having to carefully consider meanings, what words mean even as he seems to watch her, and the cosmos that float around her, wayward stardust that sprinkles through the air to linger at her hooves. Is is the softness, the nurturing of a Nebula still, as her star shines from with in, brightening her countenance to all who meet, coming into focus, coming into spirit slowly. He asks what she would have him as, and smile; a flicker of amusement at his question, Yourself. She answers simply. It's one word, but inside her mind, her heart, there is a plethora of meanings. The way the universe intended him to be. Unmolded by pain, or suffrage; his actions and words undictated by the way he was forced to be raised, the way that it may have altered who he was supposed to be. But rather the being he was intended. His pelt shows both day or night; whether he was meant to be brightness or a shade is unknown - perhaps he was intended a path in the middle. A path of balance.

Or, perhaps - like herself; he has forgotten what he was meant to be. He then asks of her, and she pauses, thoughtful. Who was she. The night. The stars. Her gaze turns, towards the cosmos that hold all the answers, yet remain far away, A fallen star. She responds, and there's something lost to her tone, a sort of homesickness that has her heart yearning for the heavens. Her gaze turns slowly to him, and the fallen nebula no longer smiles, her gaze is simply soft, but there's shadows in that rose-tinted gaze, like the imprint of the black hole that had consumed her so long ago. Not sure, not anymore.

FROM THE MOUTH
INSIDE THE MIND
@Alecto
Notes:: I adore him. So much <3 <3

Breathin' in you give me air, I'm living on your solar flare
Could you be my super nova girl?
       
Artist Credit to Sephinta






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RE: There is a lighthouse, five hundred yards down - by Veil Nebula - 04-09-2022, 11:10 AM
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