“I suppose we are our own worst critics” she muses, chuckling once more. Willoughby found she liked this one. He was a good sort, she just knew it. She knew that her musings and behaviors were not popular, but the man was looking past it. He truly wanted to see what lay beneath. Anyone who did with her was a good one in her book.
The man would further go to dramatics, earning a bright smile with her eyes lit up in amusement. He swung his body away, bowing to her and she, a learned beast... Well, she lowered herself slightly, bending her front legs in a curtesy. Her wings opened, unfurling and shot upward. “I'm Willoughby, sir Atlas” she says to him now, giggling.
“Also a wanderer of these lands” she adds, having known how to curtesy properly through various practices. Reading material and performance drills aside... “and the pleasure is mine, surely, if you're willing to divulge information about them.” She was eager to learn all she could about Novus.
Straightening, she smiles. “Do you belong to a court, perhaps?”
“she speaks”
if you don't want to see me dancing with somebody new
i hope you know where you're going, but you're just as lost as me
you walk with such conviction and I'm eyes-closed following
‘Worst critics’ was a very polite way of phrasing ‘self-loathing’, Atlas imagined, though he did not say so. He simply nodded and cast his gaze around them, looking out over the moonflowers as they bobbed their white blooms in the night air. It had taken him a long time to achieve a sort of serenity, a peace with his past crimes; it was a balancing act, of sorts: on one side of the scale was his desire to do and be good, and on the other, the black weight of his history. Intermingled it made for a low-burning hatred, directed at himself.
Atlas watched Willoughby’s eyes light up and the smile brighten across her face and it heartened him. He knew himself to be slightly bland, if not boring, and certainly not to everyone’s tastes. She curstied back to him and hinted at her nobility, or lack therein-of. In his homeland, the wealthy very rarely ever partook in such a display of difference, and when they did, it was an embarrassment-- at least, according to Nashira. She’d made him curtsy until his knees ached and he walked off-kilter for the next week.
You need to learn what it’s like, she’d said, to be down in the dirt.
She proclaimed herself to also be a wanderer and he felt the warmth of a kindred spirit. Though, when she asked about his willingness to educate, she unwittingly opened the floodgates. “The Dawn Court is famed for intelligence and discovery; theirs is a collection of puzzling and thinking minds. Day Court is more for warriors and survivors, though that is an intelligence in and of itself. The people of Dusk Court are more mysterious and harder to read-- though, as a rule, they are generous and caring souls. Night Court is the one I’ll admit I’m the least familiar with, as they are fiercely protective of their people and traditions.” There was much more, and he could go on-- but that would be bordering on a eulogy and no one liked that, so he cleared his throat and said: “Officially, I belong in Dusk Court. That’s where I landed, and they opened their arms and accepted me without question. But now… now I’m unsure as to where I belong.” He lowered his head, chin scraping a blossom. “There has been so much upheaval lately. Even close knit communities have been cleaved asunder. It is hard to find a place to… to fit, without feeling like some sort of… social vulture?” he finished lamely, searching for the right allegory.
@Willoughby | "Speech."
let's wrap this up soon <3
01-16-2021, 03:41 PM
Played by
lackadaisy [PM] Posts: 105 — Threads: 19 Signos: 0
She would listen politely to Atlas' words, knowing his advice and opinions were important. "It's hard to fit in anywhere" she says to him after he's finished, slightly bowing her head. A soft little smile appeared on her features, as if looking for things to say but failing. "perhaps that's why I'm a vagabond still. I wouldn't want to be a vulture. I'd want to feel like I belong in a court and its ideals."
But, ah... The night was growing too long for her liking. She lifts her head, smiling at her new friend. "I should let you get back" Willoughby states kindly "it was a pleasure to meet you, Atlas. I hope to run into you again." But if not... she could look back on this conversation fondly. She would turn to leave, giving the man a polite yet friendly nod.
"Have a good rest of the night!" she calls over her shoulder before setting off.
/ EXIT
“she speaks”
if you don't want to see me dancing with somebody new
i hope you know where you're going, but you're just as lost as me
you walk with such conviction and I'm eyes-closed following
Sometimes he felt like he talked too much; in his own ears, his words never carried much weight. Was that all he was full of-- wasted breath? Hot air and unwanted opinions? Willoughby seemed to be listening close enough, but was what he was telling her truly helpful? Because, what was he telling her, really, besides what she could see for her own two eyes? That the world was on the brink of a crisis? Everything was in schism, verging on the edge of a crevasse, deep and cold and unholy?
He couldn’t really say that, could he?
“Quite,” he agreed, lifting his head to scan the distance. It wasn’t really a question of him fitting in, he supposed, as he wasn’t… well, he wasn’t odd. He wasn’t special. He wasn’t wanted, nor unwanted. He was perfectly average, in most aspects.
But where he built his nest, the snakes came to live; it was only when you were comfortable that you could experience the loss of it.
She stirred him from his morose thoughts with a fond goodbye, and he dipped his head and repeated the shared sentiments. “And you as well, Willoughby. Safe travels!”
Like a wisp in the night, she was gone just as quick as she’d appeared, and there was little more for Atlas to do than drift amongst the moonflowers.
