THE GREEN CANOPY'S NO SEA OR NET, BUT THAT'S ABSOLUTE -- confusion of thickets behind me; before me, open space.
I have discovered, through the kindness of some passing stranger, that an open, grassy space with “no or few trees” is called a field. I have also discovered that, although I suspect that I will always prefer the comfort of deep forests and amber leaves, there are certain virtues to fields.
My first night in Terrastella, I was so exhausted from – everything, to be honest – that I fell asleep without bothering to pay attention to the sky. That was, I am sure, a mistake. When travelers and priestesses told me stories of the sky, they also described the way that it changes throughout the day; sometimes, they even described the night. They told of a deep blue sky that is nearly black, punctuated with more little lights than you could ever possibly count and something that was supposedly large and round and white called a “moon.” I wasn’t sure how to imagine those little lights, so I thought of them like fireflies – like fireflies, lighting on the surface of some dark and deep lake.
On my second night in Terrastella, I am determined to see the sky at night. (When I tell this to the gentleman I ask for directions to a good place to look, he laughs, and he tells me that he hopes the weather is good for it; hard to see stars in a cloudy sky.) To my relief, today is not an especially cloudy day. (He tells me that storms are very common, near the sea, and I have to ask what a “see” was – only to find out that it is the same as an ocean, almost.)
With all that in mind – I pick my way through Terrastella, following his directions as best I can. (Seeing as how I don’t know what half of the landmarks he mentions are, the task is easier said than done.) It is fortunate that, when I am given a task that can be completed immediately, I tend to focus on it single-mindedly, for otherwise I fear that I would never have made it to the field before the sunset. This world is so utterly alien, so full of strange and fascinating things; I want to stop and examine each moss-covered stone and murky pool, each green-needled tree and dusky brown songbird. And the sea! The sea, the sea, the sea - I have been told that there are things that live in the sea that would devour me if I let them, but I am sure that I would not let them. (I would not let them easily, at least.) I want to go back down to the shore and explore more, soon. I am sure that there are plenty of wonderful things to find.
I haven’t forgotten my original task, of course. Find the heir. But it is so hard to focus! (I tell myself that I should get my bearings first, regardless; this is not, first and foremost, another symptom of childishness.)
I arrive at the fields at dusk, which is just as exciting as night; the sky becomes many strange colors when the sun (a concept I have only just become accustomed to) sets. It is peach-gold on the horizon, set against the darkness of clear, rolling hills, and, as night comes creeping in behind me, it grows deep, dark blue. The sky is almost entirely cloudless, save for a few wisps on the far horizon. I think that it is beautiful. I’ve seen the colors before, somewhat, filtered in a pastel orange onto the forest floor, but I could never see the sky itself for the leaves. (The more I see of the sky, the more I begin to understand the strange names of the nations on this island of “Novus.”) It’s enchanting, almost miraculous, and, for a moment, I find myself wondering what it looks like if you are well-accustomed to it. I wonder what the sky looks like to the heir - they must have grown up under it. I wonder if it is still miraculous. Surely it is, if they remember who they have been before.
The forest never changes, but it is always enchanting to me because I have been it. Understanding does not make something less wonderful; in any ways, it adds depths that others could only imagine. But perhaps our eternal autumn might feel like a trap, to someone who grew up in such an utterly temporal landscape. Perhaps they will not want to go home.
I settle in the grass atop a hill and look up, tucking my wings at my side as slight barriers against the chill. The wind is gentle tonight; it hums a melody against my ears, and it is familiar, but I can no longer mimic it. I don’t long for it, but it fills me with something warm.
Night comes. Night comes, and I don’t know how to describe it. I feel tears – wet and wind-chilled and sticky – dribbling from my eyes.
There are so many little lights, so many - some are brighter and some are darker, but they are all there, and they come in many more colors than I could ever imagine. They are not like fireflies at all; they are only like themselves. (Some things invite no comparison.) What I assume is the “moon” is a pale silver orb that hangs like a great face in the sky. I wonder what it is, what all the little lights are, why they are there, why they were made and why they exist. I wonder what it would feel like to be one of them.
Maybe I will be, in some lifetime.
@Maeve || what is this thing you call a "moon"? || "the cliff," gregory orr "Speech!"
EVERYTHING IS RISK, SHE WHISPERED.if you doubt, it becomes sand trickling through skeletal fingers.☙❧please tag Nic! contact is encouraged, short of violence
The Dawn Court soldier and I were making our way back to Denocte when we took this shortcut. After a little while, he mentioned he had some business to deal with and told me to go have fun in the fields for a little bit. He didn't like when I strayed too far last time, so I figure I won't be too mean to him and wander away much this time.
When we were walking before, I was watching the way the sky turned all different colors. I remember Momma Morr telling me about each of the Courts and how they're named after the different times of the sky. I like ours the most, not just because it's my Court but I love the moon. There's something about it that makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. It's like when I'm nestled next to Momma at bedtime and ready to go to sleep. It's that comforting feeling that I'm here and I'm not alone. I have someone who loves me and will protect me. The moon in its own way watches over me like a mother would.
It's finally nightfall and the moon looks down on me again. I smile and try to count all the stars that are around it. I stop at ten because there are just too many to keep track of. I also realize that someone else is out here as a scent carries on the breeze. I get up from where I had been laying and trot over to the other horse.
At first I'm friendly and calm, but then I can see streaks coming down from her eyes. She must have been crying not too long ago. "Are you okay, lady?!" I ask, maybe a little too loudly compared to a normal worried reaction. I put a lot of emphasis on the you and then the okay comes out like oh-KAY. But I'm really worried for her because there's nothing out here to be sad about.
"I'm Maeve. I was just with this soldier, but I'm not sure where he is right now. I can try to get help?" I offer, although it's a very weak offer. I'm not a trained medic and I don't really know the soldier guy. I'm thinking maybe if I run fast and yell loud enough, I could find someone who knew more to help. Or maybe he would come running.
Hopefully, she's okay and I'm just overthinking it all.
THE GREEN CANOPY'S NO SEA OR NET, BUT THAT'S ABSOLUTE -- confusion of thickets behind me; before me, open space.
The sky is brilliant. I don’t know what it is composed of at all, and it seems so very far away (though not, I’m sure, as far away as my homeland), but, in the moment, I try not to consider the details of what I am seeing. I have always held a certain fondness for understanding things, at their marrow, and picking them apart until I know how they tick – I think that it is a habit I picked up after my time as a sword. I never know what I will become next, so it is in my best interest to try to comprehend everything.
But – you can never quite understand anything until you become it. I know that, too. And, even after becoming something, it is hard to remember how to be it, when you aren’t it anymore; nowadays, I can’t imagine being a sword. I cannot imagine the apathetic violence, my life melded to someone else’s grip.
In the moment, though – in the moment, it was fine. Maybe even brilliant.
This night sky is brilliant, too, even if I don’t know the names of all those little lights or what they are, even if I don’t understand the darkness of it or the silver pull of the moon. My lips begin to twitch up into a smile, when-
There is a child come to meet me. The knight inside of me berates me for my thoughtlessness; even a child can sneak up on me. The rest of me protests that a child is no harm. (The knight says that a child can be harmful, and she asks me if I recall my first life. I don’t answer.)
She’s so small - it occurs to me that she must still be terribly young. Her mane and tail are soft flaxen, and her coat consists of shades of brown, some softer and some darker; she has several striking white markings, particularly on her face, and big, bright orange eyes. She is incredibly slender, with a face that looks far too big for her small frame and stumbly legs. Her voice, too, is rather mismatched. I smile faintly at her too-loud voice and overly-emphasized words. Are you okay, lady?! I am, but I recall that I was crying only moments before, and it occurs to me quickly why she is so concerned. “Oh, goodness,” I say, caught somewhere between a laugh and a tearstained sob at her concern. “I’m quite alright – better than alright, even.” I’m sure that I don’t look it. I’m sure that I look a mess, more precisely, but, then, that’s hardly unusual, at least in this strange, new land. (I like to think that I was more composed at home, befitting a Knight of my rank and stature, but maybe I’m misremembering. I have so many memories; they become jumbled sometimes, and horribly confused. I suppose it is a necessary consequence of resurrection.)
I stand, swiftly, and find myself (though not fully grown) considerably taller than the girl. “But thank you for your kindness, Lady Maeve. I am Nicnevin, a knight of the Wynding Gold.” I dip to my knees with practiced elegance, my wings stretching out to compliment my bow; it is probably unnecessary, under the circumstances, but it is my most familiar greeting. I straighten, then, and would have been silent, were it not for the obvious concern she had displayed – in all my lifetimes I have been more fond of silence than speech, more apt to let others carry a conversation for me. But still. I think that I should explain, or she might stay worried. “These were happy tears, you see,” I add, wondering if she is even old enough to be familiar with the concept. “This is the first time I’ve ever seen the night sky.”
I’m sure it is strange to hear, for a little girl raised in this land.
Still. Thinking back to my own, sheltered existence – perhaps it is good to hear it regardless.
@Maeve || <3 || "the cliff," gregory orr "Speech!"
EVERYTHING IS RISK, SHE WHISPERED.if you doubt, it becomes sand trickling through skeletal fingers.☙❧please tag Nic! contact is encouraged, short of violence
The lady says she's okay, but she really doesn't look okay. After all, she had been crying and I can see that clearly on her face. Still, by the way she talks to me, she doesn't seem upset exactly. I just find it really strange and wonder if she's hiding something just to be nice. I know some people do that because I'm a kid, but really I don't mind if they're honest with me.
I find it kind of cool that she calls me "Lady Maeve" and it makes me smile. It's like she's treating me as an equal rather than just a kid and I think I like that. As much as Shadow Man's nickname "Phoenix" was cool too, this is different. It's a new title I can wear like how Momma is Regent.
It's weird when she bows since I'm not important or anything and it makes me freeze up a little. Am I supposed to do anything back? Or say something? I just look around awkwardly and hope I don't offend her if I don't bow back. "I haven't heard of that place before," I say, tilting my head with curiosity at the name of her home. It doesn't sound like anywhere in Novus, or at least neither of my Mommas have mentioned it. Maybe it's a secret place that no one's heard of before and I'm about to be the first one to find out!
Nicnevin then explains her tears were happy tears and it starts to make a little more sense. Although, all my wonder about where she comes from is pushed aside for a moment when she says she's never seen the night sky before. It actually makes my jaw drop from surprise. "What?!" I exclaim, maybe a little bit too loud and I realize I may have offended her. "I mean - you've really never seen the night sky before? Did you not have one where you're from?" Maybe her land is so secret because it's so sheltered. Or maybe somehow it doesn't have a night sky? The idea makes no sense to me.
"It's the coolest thing in the world," I start to explain, suddenly compelled to tell her everything I know. "The moon is what my Court looks up to a lot. It's sooo bright and pretty. Our Court is named after the night time and our deity is Caligo. There are so many stories about her and the night and the stars. I think my favorite though is that all the stars up there are our ancestors looking down on us." It makes me feel as wise as Tenebrae to be telling my new friend these things. I had been looking up at the sky while I talked, so I turned back to her to see what she thought. Hopefully she's just as amazed as me.
THE GREEN CANOPY'S NO SEA OR NET, BUT THAT'S ABSOLUTE -- confusion of thickets behind me; before me, open space.
I haven’t heard of that place before, she says, and I smile faintly. (I am not sure if the gesture is wistful or genuine – it feels bittersweet on my lips.) Of course, it is for the best, for us, that we remain separate from everything and everywhere else, but now that I have begun to see everywhere else, how could a part of me not mourn for our sheltered existence. “It’s very far away from Novus,” I say, “and travelers aren’t allowed in very often – most of them aren’t very friendly.” That is probably an understatement, but I’m not sure that I should tell the girl that most of our interactions with strangers come in the form of them trying to burn the forest down to find the secret of immortality.
I do not suspect that an explanation would inspire her to pyromania – but it isn’t the sort of thing you discuss in polite company.
Her jaw drops at my admittance, and it makes my smile more heartfelt; the sight of her, bug-eyed with shock, is a bit amusing. (And adorable. I have always been fond of children.) What?! I mean - you've really never seen the night sky before? Did you not have one where you're from? “Never,” I confirm. “We have one, I assume, but I could never see it. My homeland is within a great forest, where it is always autumn, and the branches of the trees are so thick that they block out the sky entirely.” I suspect that trying to visualize the Gold will go about as well for her as trying to visualize the sky would have gone for me, before I saw it for the first time, but describing it makes a blush of warmth rush up in my chest. I don’t miss home – except when I do.
Learning of my ignorance seems to set the child off, and she quickly launches into an explanation. I listen attentively – not just because you are supposed to listen attentively to children, but also because I do genuinely want to learn from what she knows. It's the coolest thing in the world, she says, eagerly. The moon is what my Court looks up to a lot. It's sooo bright and pretty. Our Court is named after the night time and our deity is Caligo. There are so many stories about her and the night and the stars. I think my favorite though is that all the stars up there are our ancestors looking down on us.
She says…a lot of words that I don’t recognize. Deity? Caligo? Stars? I blink, attempting to follow. “Ah, you’re from…the Night Court?” I can’t remember the name of the land, exactly, but I have managed to piece together that the different nations are called Courts. Now, the next part – I launch into a question. “Deity?” I am not sure what the word refers to. Some mythological feature, judging by what she says next, but the title seems specific.
The stars, at least, I can guess. The little lights that aren’t the moon. What she says about them makes something inside of me grow warm, even warmer, sweetly mingled with some strange mixture of relief and longing. “You know, in my homeland, we teach that life and death come in cycles. Each time you die, you are born as something else.” I don’t speak of my own experience. Girl though she may be, I have no idea how she’d react to it. “I am sure that some of those…stars…are your ancestors – and I am sure that they are happy to brighten the night sky for you, whether they know it or not.” After all, even as a thing and not a person, even as a sword….had I not been happy to fulfill the burden that I was made for? Had it not pleased me to be carved, to be sharpened, to be coated in blood and violence?
I was not myself. I did not know a thing. When my old friends wept for me, I felt nothing - not empathy for their sadness, not pity, not even a sense of mourning for the life that we had lived together. Swords do not feel such tender things; neither do spear-tips, or arrows, or bows. I was, however, happy – in the only way that a sword can be, which is blood-red and singing – that I was of use. I am not sure what these “stars” feel, but I am sure that they are glad to fulfill their duty, which is, I can only assume, to brighten; and, for most things, there is nothing more than that.
(It is probably useless to debate it, with this face and this mind. Maybe I will understand again someday, and do it properly – not color all my memories with the now.)
@Maeve || <3 || "the cliff," gregory orr "Speech!"
EVERYTHING IS RISK, SHE WHISPERED.if you doubt, it becomes sand trickling through skeletal fingers.☙❧please tag Nic! contact is encouraged, short of violence
She talks about her home, but it's not like when I tell others about Denocte. This place sounds… well, terrible. It almost sounds like a jail, especially not being able to see the sky. I've been through the forest before, but I've always been able to see the stars peeking through the leaves and the moonlight always shines down onto the ground. The thought of not having that makes me feel funny. It's almost like the time I ate something that upset my stomach and I almost barfed everywhere.
"I'm sorry you lived like that," I say, frowning. I don't even think about how maybe it isn't something to be sorry for, but it sounds like a sad life to me (or maybe even a punishment). "I'm glad you're here now. I mean, I think a world stuck in autumn would be kind of cool… but not if you can't see anything."
At least she's free now from wherever far away that place is. I think about how she might react to my Court if she likes the night sky so much. Though, I'm surprised she hasn't even heard about it before or what a deity is. I guess her far away prison land didn't have deities either? It sounds so crazy to me.
"Yeah! Caligo is who we look up to in my Court. There are stories about how she controls the night and that her siblings didn't treat her very well. She sounds like a pretty cool strong lady though," I explain, trying to remember all the details of the stories Momma's told me. I know that each Court has a deity and they're all siblings and they had a big fight, but that's about it.
When she talks about how the people in her homeland would die and become something else after, it reminds me of what Tenebrae said before about phoenixes. They become ash when they die and rise from those ashes to be reborn. I wonder if that's the same thing or if maybe this lady is a phoenix in some way and all those in her home are too. Is that why it's so far away and so hidden? I know phoenixes are pretty rare here in Novus too.
It makes me smile when she talks about my ancestors looking down on me. "I know they are," I say with confidence. I know that my great grandmother is - the one I was named after. I don't know what kind of star she'd be, but Momma hasn't told me too many stories about her yet.
I think again about what she said about living and dying and living again. It forms so many questions in my head that I don't even know where to start. "What did you used to be then? Before you were born… um, like this? Do you remember who you used to be? Or are you not allowed to keep those memories and they just say that's how it works every time?" It's hard not to start with one question and wait for the answer. I'm just really interested to know how all this works. I wonder if it works here too, but at least with me, I don't remember anything before just a few months ago.
THE GREEN CANOPY'S NO SEA OR NET, BUT THAT'S ABSOLUTE -- confusion of thickets behind me; before me, open space.
I look at her little frown when she offers her most profound condolences about my homeland. For a moment, I wonder if I should be offended – but I’m not, really. I think that I understand what she means. This world is wondrous, and I want to go home, but not before I’ve seen all that it has to offer me.
(An impossible task, most likely, but I try not to think about that.) “It’s not as terrible as it sounds, I assure you,” I say, smiling at her gently. “After all – I didn’t even know what I was missing. But I’m glad to be here, too.” It is impossible to long for the sky when you have no conception of it; not really. Not in the way that I long, on rare, panging occasion for the things and people that I have encountered in my other lives. I was inquisitive, in the past, but there was no depth to it, no nostalgia, no genuine love. “I’m not sure how I’ll feel when I have to go back,” I admit, after a moment’s hesitation.
Now that I have left my home, I’ve discovered that the world is wide and marvelous in ways that I could never have imagined. Dying has been tolerable, in the past, because I never really lost anything with it – not forever.
When I return home, I am not sure that I will ever be allowed to leave again.
She tells me a bit more about Caligo, who the Night Court supposedly "looks up" to. When she mentions it, I consider, briefly, mentions of a Vespera I've heard throughout Terrastella; perhaps she is a "deity," too. “She controls the night? How fascinating,” I say, tilting my head at her inquisitively. It isn’t a question, exactly; I’m not even sure where to start with that. She – a single woman – controls the night? I can’t imagine it. At home, we did not believe that any natural force could be controlled, least of all in its entirety. (The only mages in my homeland were the priestesses, and all of their magic concerned the soul. I have learned enough to know that they have other mages here; I struggle with the concept.) "Do all of the courts have...deities?"
The girl expresses her certainty about her ancestors, and I smile my profound agreement. She asks me, then, about my past lives, with a sort of stumbling curiosity. My ears prick; I haven’t met many outsiders, but I thought it was rare for them to ask questions about such things.
I am more than happy to tell her about rebirth. (She might still be young enough to believe me.) “Some people keep their memories, and others don’t,” I say, looking up at the night sky thoughtfully. “Even if you do remember them, though, it usually takes a few months for them to readjust – and they aren’t quite like the memories that you experience in your current life. They’re…hazy, and sometimes very confusing. The priestesses in my homeland can help to call them into focus, and they can see if your soul is new or reborn, even if you don’t remember anything.” I pause, considering the best way to explain my own experience. “I remember most of mine, but some of them are more clear than others. I was born an equine, in my first life.” I think I was; the priestesses said that my soul was new, anyways, and they are rarely wrong about such things. “After that, I was a sword, and then an equine again. And, between that life and this one…” I consider the list, and then recite the ones I remember the most vividly. “I was a gust of wind, and a firefly, and a drop of morning dew, and a vine, and a leaf. Lots of things. And then I was-“ I pause again, stumbling over my words. “Now I am Nicnevin.”
I’m not sure how to explain the subtlest differentiation – that there has never quite been a me before, that all of those other lives contribute to the creation of me but don’t compose me entirely. I am myself. They are bits and pieces, unkempt parts; we are not the same.
I am myself.
@Maeve || <3 || "the cliff," gregory orr "Speech!"
EVERYTHING IS RISK, SHE WHISPERED.if you doubt, it becomes sand trickling through skeletal fingers.☙❧please tag Nic! contact is encouraged, short of violence
The lady says her homeland is not so terrible, but I guess maybe growing up there, she would think so. It sounds terrible to me after knowing how big of a world Novus is. I can't imagine being anywhere else and I don't think I would want to. Not only is my family here, but just everything is so beautiful. As much as a fall-forever forest sounds, I would miss seeing the moon and the stars and just everything here. No, definitely not for me.
When she says she's glad she's here, I smile, but that doesn't last on my face long when she mentions having to go back. "Do you have to go back? Why not stay here if you like it so much?" There's a part of me that feels almost selfish saying this because I feel like we're forming a friendship (or at least, I'd like to).
Naturally, the subject of Caligo brings me happiness. I like that she finds her powers interesting, although I don't totally understand how it works to be able to explain it more. "That's what the legends say," I reply, then try to remember what the other stories were about the Courts. My memory is a little fuzzy since I focus more on Night Court stuff. "Yeah, each Court looks up to a deity. I… can't remember all their names, but I know that they each control a time of the day in the sky and that's why the Courts are named the way they are. Oh! And they're all siblings, so that's why they would fight a lot. There's also Tempus- he's their dad and he controls time."
Then it's time for her to tell me some stories, this time about how the rebirth works with her kind (or her home, I'm not so sure she's a "kind" since she's a horse like me?). As she explains the things with the memories, I find that pretty scary. I guess if you don't remember, then you won't be scared, but I don't like the idea of losing memories or having them be fuzzy. I'm already fuzzy on some things, but I don't have a lot of time behind me yet. Or maybe I do, if we all have past lives? Suddenly I find myself very overwhelmed.
My ears perk up when she mentions all the not-horse things she was: a sword gets more of my attention, but also a gust of wind is a hard concept to grasp. I never thought these things could be living. "Wow," I say, pretty much at a loss for words. This whole concept is just so fascinating to me. "But how… how were you a sword? Did you have legs? Or eyes? Or were you like… just trapped inside the sword and not able to do anything?" The thought makes me shiver and it almost sounds like a punishment. Nicnevin told her story so calmly though, so it must not have felt so bad (or she didn't remember it that way).
"I'm glad you're Nicnevin now," I add, trying to bring a smile to both of our faces, even if all of this seemed overwhelming. "Because now we can be friends… I hope." And there it is- I've blurted out my hopes for a new friend. Hopefully she might feel the same way because it sounds like she could use one out here.
THE GREEN CANOPY'S NO SEA OR NET, BUT THAT'S ABSOLUTE -- confusion of thickets behind me; before me, open space.
Her smile fades, when I mention that I have to go back, and she asks if I absolutely must, if I like it here so much. I give her a faintly apologetic look, my smile turning solemn at the edges. “My people are relying on me,” I admit. (I haven’t told anyone else about my quest, but I think, somehow, that she is trustworthy) “You see, I am here to find the heir to our kingdom’s throne – without them, I don’t know what we’ll do.” If it were just a matter of royal blood, the stakes might be lower, but, unfortunately, the heir is another issue entirely. The king was plenty healthy, when I left, but who knows how long that will ever last? “I do like it here, though. A lot. I’m sure I’ll find a way to come back and visit, even after I have to return home.” I’m not sure if that consolation is for her sake or for mine.
(It is a consequence of my lives, I think, that I am not used to the concept of permanence. The idea of losing this land forever – with its night sky, and the moon, and the sun, and the stars, and the sea, and all the strange, wonderful outsiders that I’ve encountered – is unlike anything that I have ever encountered before. It is frightening. In a way, it nearly makes me understand why outsiders fear death.
I try not to think about it.)
Maeve tells me about the “gods,” each of which apparently controls a time of the day. (I suppose, then, that they must align with each of the courts.) Their gods are siblings, apparently, with another god – the father – that controls time. Tempus. I try to burn the name into my brain, like Caligo. When she mentions that they fight a lot, I smile, faintly, and I think of my sisters. (My blood-sister, scarcely flesh of my flesh; and then my first sister, owl-feathered and taloned, gone from my reach.) “That sounds like siblings,” I say, with a hint of a laugh. I remember them. I wonder if I will see them again.
She reacts with some predictable confusion, which is much better than the outright horror I expect of outsiders. She asks about being a sword, what it felt like, and I consider, for a moment. “I didn’t. I was just a sword. I didn’t- feel like I do as a horse. I don’t think that I felt anything at all.” A sense of being, at most. Of presence. It didn’t feel like anything, because I was a sword, and swords feel nothing at all. “It wasn’t awful, even though it feels like it should have been, now. It wasn’t quite like a trap, either, because it was what I was supposed to be. Maybe that was why it didn't bother me.” I didn’t feel sad as a sword, or happy, or anything else. I felt movement, in someone else’s grip, weathering, splashes of blood. It was pure sensation. Nothing else. “I think it’s hard to understand if you haven’t been something else before. I mean, it’s even hard for me to understand, now.”
She says that she’s glad I’m me, now, and I grin broadly – and then she asks to be my friend. I blink at her in wide-eyed delight. “I’m very glad to be Nicnevin now, too,” I say, then add, "and I’d love to be your friend! Maybe we can write letters to each other?”
She’d be my very first friend in all of Novus, and, frankly, I can’t imagine a better one.
(I wonder if they write letters here. I wonder how to send them.)
EVERYTHING IS RISK, SHE WHISPERED.if you doubt, it becomes sand trickling through skeletal fingers.☙❧please tag Nic! contact is encouraged, short of violence
When she tells me that her people need her and she's looking for someone, it sort of puts Nicnevin in a new light. Really, she's a hero for her people back home, which is pretty cool. Honestly, trying to track someone important down sounds like it could be a fun adventure.
Then as she's talking more about being a sword, it still isn't something I can totally wrap my head around. How can you not feel things? It makes my skin crawl thinking about it too much, so I push it aside as the topic changes. Like she says, I don't think I'll ever understand it. I also hope I don't ever become a sword.
What really gets me excited though is her idea of letters. I haven't written one before, but I've seen the owls and other birds flying by with the scrolls tied to their legs. Momma's sent a few off before. "Yeah! That would be lots of fun!" I exclaim, but then catch myself. I don't know how to write! "I… Uh… will have to learn how to write first though. I'm sure Momma could teach me!" It's always fascinating to watch how she moves a pen and makes all these fancy strokes. I can read a bit better now, but haven't quite mastered how to do the writing thing.
A voice calls my name from off in the distance and I turn to see the Dawn soldier gesturing for me to come back over. I let out a big sigh. "I guess it's time for me to go," I say sadly to my new friend. I don't want to leave, but I know that I have to go home. "I'll make sure to learn to write soon so we can still talk to each other! Let me know if you ever want some help finding the heir guy."
I start to walk away, my heart feeling heavy, but then I turn back around for a moment. "If you ever want to visit Denocte, just ask for the Regent's daughter, that'll be the easiest way to find me." I'm not sure how Momma will feel about a stranger asking for me, but I'll make sure to tell her all about the new friend I made here. Hopefully then she won't be too suspicious.
I then walk back over to Nic and gently press my forehead against her side as a goodbye. "It was great to meet you, Nicnevin." I can hear the soldier calling to me again, so I leave Nic's side and run off to meet him. I feel very sad, but I'll just keep hoping that we can talk again soon. It seems like she could use a friend in this big world of ours.
