and at last i see the light, and it's like the fog has lifted
The forest around her was alive. Birds raised their songs to the heavens, and the late summer sunlight filtered through trees which had just started to turn colors. There was a quiet sort of peace here, one which drew her in as her honey-gold eyes thirstily drank in the sights, smells, and touch of each leaf that brushed against her. Since coming to Novus, her senses had been assaulted by all manner of things. She wanted to know each blade of grass, to relish in the way they brushed against her skin. She wanted to soar in the sky to observe this new world – but something held her back…
Fear kept her grounded, for if she were to emerge from hiding, she knew they would find her. This place was so wonder-filled, she never wanted it to end. She was desperate to know more about this new-found freedom, but a nagging sensation always stirred within her mind, her body just inches from fleeing with every snapping twig.
It wasn’t a way to live, but she could not help it… for Solstice had only known captivity for her entire life. She had yet to experience the kindness that freedom could offer, even though the girl remained cautiously optimistic that this life could be something better – something grand.
With a sigh, she allows her eyes to close and lets the sunlight wash over her. It is warm around her, wrapping her tightly like a hug, and a smile tugs at her lips. If she could, the mare would stay like this for eternity, enveloped in the peace that the forest brings, but she knew such fairytales could never truly last. She turns, blinking at a distant stranger, breath catching in her throat as she fights to still the fear which leaps in her heart.
Remembering the last time she’d pre-judged a stranger prematurely, Solstice draws a breath sharply, willing the butterflies to still as she manages a shaky “H... hello?", waiting to see if the specter was friend or foe.
― Open to any
05-30-2020, 05:29 AM
Played by
del [PM] Posts: 16 — Threads: 4 Signos: 195
Funny how time slips away. How it ebbs in a variety of currents. Too quickly, too soon – not fast enough.
If only, and I wish – to savor moments here and there, and to forgo its pain. No one possessed the amount of perceptive sight to realize what would be lost, or how we should have buried our memories.
So they dance and call out to us. In dreams, reminders and thoughts that come with the fall and rise of the wind.
The world has largely fallen behind the young woman’s work. Perhaps she became recluse, nearly aloof – finding passion in the small details of cloth and dye. The pay was meager, consuming several factors that influenced production. She had made just enough to get by that winter, and that summer, and before she could lift her head high to acknowledge the sun – fall came creeping in.
It was with some hesitation though, as a realization gripped Noëlle.That her legs had grown somewhat longer, and her child-like roundness had faded for something sharper. Something crafted beyond the form of gangly limbs, and wide eyes. A form she found difficult to recognize. Graceful was far from the creature staring back at her, more like disheveled and disorganized.
Before thoughts of reservations dared to stop her, Noëlle packed up what little she could for the journey set in her mind’s eye. A journey she’d been planning for some time already. Surely, the roads leading to Delumine would prove more favorable in the fall than winter. She had wasted too much time already. If there was anything worth leaving for, it was for the information and perfection of her craft.
Accounts of an ancient library nestled in Delumine’s forests pressed Noëlle northwards. An air of excitement treaded alongside her pace, for the allure of things soon to be discovered and unearthed. Suppose the act of travelling proved reminisce of the past – and at the root of her journey, she craved for something familiar to fill all the wrongs of her body. Her womanhood that she felt were not entirely her own to keep; that were more likely the features of a stolen alibi, a woman from another world with a broken horn.
Days had passed, as she made her way into the Viride Forest. Hair less matted – collected in braids of various thickness, and a pair of eyes that felt slightly more sure of itself than before. A small satchel accompanied her, a necklace – buried behind a scarf hugging her shoulders – pressed against her breast. The air was cool, shifting the foliage into a familiar cadence of waving limbs and copper leaves. It soothed her for a reason she didn’t care reasoning about – making ground on soft footfalls, and a keen awareness of the maze surrounding her.
Then there were feathers, shifting with that air and resembling the sky. Hidden ever so carefully behind the thicket, illuminated by hues of dawn. Before Noëlle could utter a single word the mare takes note of her presence. Wild doe-eyes filled with the heat of the sun make contact with her gaze. Noëlle slows her approach, breath even as she comes to a complete stop. Leaving ample room between them. The mare appears startled at the very least, no need to press further into that bubble.
“Hello there. I didn’t mean to startle you.” She bobs her head down slightly, shifting her eyes to the ground for a moment. Finding that, to some degree – the growth of her horns has produced the undesirable effect of looking very large and pointy. “I couldn’t help but notice your wings. They’re very lovely miss – I mean…” She looks up with an embarrassed half smile, the tail behind her waves lazily above the ground.
“I haven’t come across anyone for quite sometime now. I was hopeful that you were friend rather than foe.”
She quietly took in the air with a deep breath. Encouraged by the birdsong, and the tendrils of light escaping the canopy.
and at last i see the light, and it's like the fog has lifted
The woman approaches her, and though every fiber of her being suggests that she should go, Solstice wills herself to remain planted and offers a timid smile. Time was healing her – slowly, but surely. It wasn’t that others had always been unkind, only that circumstances had stifled her. For too long, she had been a prize instead of a person. She had been worshipped by some, revered by others, but hadn’t ever been allowed to truly live. She’d never had the freedom to make her own choices, to determine her own interests, to satiate her curiosities. Now, the world was open to her, but she could not find the bravery to fly.
She blinks carefully, ears flicking forward to catch the greeting tones, warm and friendly. She wants to trust the voice, wants to think the best of intentions – and so she does, smiling more warmly as she blushes at the compliments. “I like your scarf.” she says with earnest, barely resisting the urge to reach out and touch the delicate fabric, wondering if it was as soft as it looked. Solstice dips her head in a quiet greeting, allowing the stranger to come closer as she takes in the scent of her – wild and different from the scents of Delumine.
”Where did you come from?” Her question is blunt but not unkind, curiosity edging in her whisky hued gaze, following the path from where the woman had come. “I don’t know much about this place – about what lies beyond the forest.” Solstice didn’t add that she was afraid to venture much further from the safety and security she’d built.
Despite the lack of shelter here, there was a certain peace she’d found in nature. She was far from the temple which had been her prison and her home. Far from the warlord’s tents where she’d been locked away from the sunlight, hidden from all the world. Here, she was free to know Oriens’ world, and she wanted more selfishly than ever before.
She stepped from the treeline into the clearing of the forest now, stretching her wings wide, not in flight but to loosen the tension from holding them so tightly against herself. Silence fell almost awkwardly between them, for the girl didn’t understand much about social pleasantries, never being allowed to interact with the citizens. Instead, her only friends had been the flowers in her garden and the books on her shelves. She’d busied her days with reading poetry and religious tomes, fighting to understand more about the world she was never allowed to know.
“We can be friends,” she decides suddenly, making up her mind to move forward – to betray the oath of solitude the priestesses had forced upon her. “What should I call you?”
She finds it odd – the effect we have on each other: fear, awe, distrust. Imprinting on each other reflections of our selves on the strangers we pass by. Or perchance – those of whom we bump and collide. What is it that allures us? That beckons when we guard our hearts, holding us against a precipice?
The young woman stands hopeful, her efforts trying at times. It seems easier, logical to paint the world in darkness. To boil down choices and decisions purely on wants and desires, for power and control – and perhaps it does come to that eventually. Perhaps good nature is merely a ploy to ignore the turmoil that bleeds into the soil.
Indeed, it is odd to feel as if she has been the cause for the mare’s hesitation or mistrust. Reminding herself that it's only fair to expect a superficial contract at best. In these wild lands, ruled by its secrets and lore beyond Noëlle’s recollection and knowledge.
The stranger smiles – a thread of warmth emits from the blush that creeps up into her eyes. Offering to embolden Noëlles bashful grin. She admires the beauty that envelops the micro expressions in her companion, her eyes that soften while maintaining a show of vitality.
I like your scarf.
“Ah, do you?” Pale eyes beam with a spark of joy. She speaks out in surprise – relief sinking into her shoulders, even if the doubt of her labours adds scrutiny in her voice. She lifts the edge of the cotton scarf into the light that surrounds them, deep indigo, with a faded appearance. Piercing through the thin fabric, there is evidence of dark stains that bleed in and out.
“It isn’t my best work,” She laughs shortly. “But I like the colour. Would you believe me if I said I had used boiled cabbage to dye the material?” Her laughs are reminiscent of a child, of foalish days escaping the mediocrity of rules – and the land of adult pragmatism.
This space between them becomes familiar and forgiving of her intrusion.
Where are you from?
“Terrastella, south from here. Though I suppose… I can’t quite call myself a true inhabitant.” It didn’t seem appropriate. She hadn’t done enough to root herself there; perhaps it hadn’t quite felt like a home yet. Even if the relative peace of the lands had offered some semblance of a normal life – she felt more than grateful for – a life less chaotic and constrained by the lands of Nordyls. Or simply time had yet to tell, if she was loyal to its people and kingdom.
She quiets and watches as the stranger moves out from the covers of the forest. Stretching out her feathered appendages in the light, giving off an ethereal glow through the delicate primary fibers of each wing. Fascinated by their graceful untwining, as they finally condense at either side. The silence did not faze the traveler, taking in her simple delights.
We can be friends.
She raises her gaze, blinking briefly at the sudden interjection.
What should I call you?
She casts her gaze away. Casually moving closer, with an invigorated step as she tossed her head into the path left behind. “Noëlle,” she tilts her head, locks of missed strands and tiny braids fall into her eyes regarding the pegasi.
“And you my friend? Do you have a name?”
A grin becomes a smile, becoming certain and more aware of this brief connection. Growing privy to the possibilities offered by companionship, highlighted by the stark stretches of silences one expects on a journey.
“I was told these lands are dangerous. They said it’s easy to lose your way here off the paths. When the trees begin to blur all the same, and the sun begins to dip too low… How have you managed this terrain? Do you find them as dangerous as they say they are?”
Hearsay and word of mouth had some element of truth to it. But often required some amount of deconstruction to grasp any notable information. She was curious if the pegasi knew any better, or if she considered the fabric of the forest in an entirely different perspective.
and at last i see the light, and it's like the fog has lifted
Wasn’t it always the case, that those who created were far too humble to accept compliments? Solstice laughs at the mare’s response, the sound as pure as a bell while still managing to be soft and delicate. “Don’t be silly” she offers with encouragement – “it’s wonderful!” Her glow is genuine as it reaches her eyes, surprise crossing her face as she marvels at the fact that vegetables could make dye. “I’ve never heard of such a thing before… are there other plants which can be used as dyes as well?” The idea was simply fascinating.
When Noëlle mentions the name of her home, Solstice feels no sense of recognition. She didn’t know this place at all, only that she was in the Dawn Court. The stranger in the meadow had told her as much, though Solstice didn’t really understand what any of it meant. All that she knew is that she was far from the place where they’d kept her against her will. Far from the place where she’d been born, stolen away from her parents, and raised as an idol for the temple instead of a child. It was a strange sort of existence, one which she wished desperately to forget.
Some would say that adversity builds character, but in her case, it had only sewn resentment. Only now was the sunrise-hued Pegasus beginning to learn of all she’d missed. She wept, not from loneliness, but for the days which could have been. For the days she might have spent in the warmth of the sun, and in the embrace of a mother who might have loved her, had she been given the chance.
So Solstice understands that her new friend feels little connection to the place where she lived now. It took time to build a life, to put down roots, to feel a sense of belonging.
“It’s nice to meet you Noëlle…” She chews at her lip, unsure of how to answer the simple question of a name without sounding hopelessly awkward. “I don’t have a name… not in a traditional sense. They called me only Solstice, for I was born on the eve of a solstice…” And that fact alone was what made her remarkable in their eyes. Her namesake had become her curse.
It was strange, to think that others believed this land dangerous. For where some might find danger, Solstice had found only freedom. “I’ve given little thought to the possibility of getting lost… to be honest, I hadn’t a destination in mind when coming here… anywhere is better than going back.” So, she didn’t worry about losing her way in the trees. If anything, the idea of being lost only added to her desire to hide away from those who chased her.
Here in the forest, the mare had never felt safer. Here in Delumine, she’d found herself by losing all the rest of what had been familiar before.
“But where are you trying to go? I know only the field and the forest, but I’m told this is the Dawn Court, if that’s what you seek?”
Her laugh is honest in the way that the sun can be gentle. Not at all harsh or domineering, it was light and energetic in the space that separates them. A bashful smile interrupts Nöelle’s expressions. Causing her ears to fall back briefly. Fighting the desire to say otherwise. “… If you say so.” She takes a deep breath. “I have so much to learn!” She rumbles out.
It brings some delight to Nöelle when she inquires about the dyes. She may as well spend hours talking about her method and process. Which sorely required refinement – but the fae was not a chemist at heart. She relied on experience instead, of note taking and experimentation that lacked the subtle details any scientist practiced meticulously. She was simply ignorant of such ways, and perhaps she had some sense of that on her journey to Delumine “Yes. Quite a bit actually! Everything from bark, to seeds… roots and flowers… The colors tend to be softer than the refined stuff.”
Nöelle had brought swatches of cloth in her satchel. Small cuts attached with the name of the product she had dyed with, and the amount of baths she’d given to the cloth. The thought to show her new friend crossed Nöelle’s mind. Perhaps to prove to her – to some degree, that you could draw out various colors and imprint them with the materials she had just listed.
She hesitated then as the pegasi began to speak, as she began to chew her lip, her light drawing inwards. “Solstice.” Nöelle paused briefly.
“Do you prefer that name?” It was a name that had become other, an extension of something, or someone. That it wasn’t or hadn’t been her name – for a time. “It’s a pretty name, mysterious name…”
The other mare hints of the world she came from. The people who had named her, the people she did not care for. Nöelle nods, understanding to some degree – though not entirely. She had only ever known the movement of escaping one land for another. Losing those she had loved, missed – grew weary of never hearing from again. A part of her half expected this world to crumble at some point. Perhaps, in the back of her mind – she was ready, always ready to escape.
“Partly,” she murmurs. “It’s in the Dawn Court’s lands. So that's a good sign.” She laughs off-handedly.
“I’m in search of an old Library. I’ve been told it resides in the Viride Forest, which I believe must be this one.” She glances about, the forest much quieter than she’s used to – the singsong of birds, and the shifting cadence of the trees offers some reassurance. However, the sound carried long and tunneled across the relatively bare ground, and overhanging leaves. Nöelle reminds herself, of the nights where she felt entirely alone and preyed upon by eyes in the distance.
“I want to research my craft. To find easier or better ways of doing things… I’m not a chemist, and Delumine is said to house scholars and all sorts of knowledge behind its borders. If I can’t find it here, I suppose… I would have to pay a trip to the Dawn Court itself. And look for a guide, or a more specific map.” She considered Solstice, tilting her gaze on the pegasus.
“You haven’t been to the city have you? The Dawn Court, where the ruler takes residence. I’m not even sure if it’s a city… but it must be.”
and at last i see the light, and it's like the fog has lifted
Do you prefer that name? She paused, wondering for a moment what the stranger meant. “No one has ever asked me that before…” Her voice is quiet and reflexive, pained by the realization even as she offers the mare a ghost of a smile. “I… I’m not sure what I prefer. It is pretty though – I haven’t given much thought to being called something else.” For the designation was as engrained in her as the tradition which raised her and the priestesses’ voices which even now spoke in her mind, chiding her to remember her place.
Memories war in her mind, reminding her that she would never truly be free. As far away as she ran, her past could never be truly erased. Perhaps with time, she would learn to cope with the darkness which rose within her, but for now she is simply lost and broken.
Nöelle seems to sense this, hurriedly changing the subject, which the winged mare is grateful for. It did not help anyone for her to dwell on her past, and Solstice was eager to move forward instead of looking back. Only hope would give her respite from all which had come to pass before. Hope for a brighter tomorrow.
I am in search of an old Library… Her eyes light up at the mention. “I don’t know of a library here, but I would love to see it… there was a library in the temple where I was raised – a library and a garden. I spent hours there, pouring over stacks of books.” She could appreciate thick tomes of history and philosophy, religion even… but there had been a different sort of book which caught the girl’s interest more than all the rest. “Would you believe it if I told you the fairytales were my favorite? They always seemed so beautifully romantic, what with princesses, brave knights, and happily ever afters.”
The girl in her wanted to believe that such tales existed – that maybe she could build her own happily-ever-after in this place. Hoping that her admission didn’t sound foolish, she hurriedly adds, “But crafting books sound lovely too – your work is stunning, but I suppose there are always new techniques to learn. Surely they would have such books in your library.”
She pauses, looking across the forest with a promise to return, even as she offers a bright and eager question to her new friend. “Maybe I could come too? It would be nice to read again… I haven’t been to the city yet, but I met someone a few days ago… he told me the city was a welcoming place, and that it was south of here.”
Part of her was afraid of seeing more of them – seeing strangers and wondering with every shadow if they had come for her… but Solstice knew she needed to face her fears, to muster her bravery. She needed to embrace this new place with its endless possibility. Plus, she wanted to see the gardens of the court… He’d told her they were the true pride of Delumine, and Solstice had always found herself drawn to the flowers. For even on her darkest days, their cheery and bright faces had offered her something of beauty.
“… - I haven’t given much thought to being called something else.”
There is something behind Solstice’s tone, a wound that begins to percolate the air. Noelle can’t hide from the pang of guilt surfacing against her breast.
Has she asked too much?
Assumed to speak words of neutrality?
A soft smile tugs on her lips as she nods in turn. Trusting that her companion would voice her disdain – if she had crossed some line or other.
But there is another shift that offers light from her eyes and sparks of joy. Mentions of the Library branch out a common likeness for books; of spun tales and heroines and beasts – either vanquished by vengeance or reborn, unshackled by the motions of love. She lets out a soft laugh, a rumbling in her belly when Solstice mentions crafting books.
“Oh perhaps, though… they aren’t nearly as fascinating as fairy tales!”
The fae’s eyes beam with the prospect of gaining a companion. The hollows of the forest, no longer empty – would prevent her mind from wandering to the past. To doubts and fears of the future, yearning for things and people far from her grasp. The prospect of embracing the present with a friendly soul provided more comfort than the previous few months of unyielding work. A whirlwind of faces, blurring all into one had no qualms – indifference rather – if she came back alive or dead.
“I would love for you to come with me. Truly! Perhaps we’ll have more luck spotting it together.” Noelle raised her head, and seemed to puff out her chest with renewed gusto.
“Some day I’ll visit Delumine’s city. All the capitols, if destiny permits it.” She steps ahead upon the path with a slight bounce. Tilting her head back to see if Solstice would follow. Strays of hair following behind her childish motion.
“I was told the Library is made out of the forest trees. Twisting into corridors and staircases.”
and at last i see the light, and it's like the fog has lifted
There is an easiness to the mare which struck her as something of a fascination. The idea of friendship was a new one for Solstice, but one she’d longed for all her life. So when Noëlle agrees to allow her company to the library, the winged mare lets out a breath of anticipation which she didn’t even realize she was holding. She smiles softly, nodding in agreement and falling into an easy pace beside her companion, marveling at the suggestion. “A library made of trees – it sounds delightful!” And the two women’s voices grew further and further away as they charted their path to the hidden groves of books, their conversation jovial and light as it floated through the quiet forests of Delumine.
