[P] Loved you Yesterday

[Luvena]

The stars are alive, child! Did you know that? Everything out there is alive, and there are grand purpose abroad!

Usually, decisions came easily, more so even than breathing or walking. Luvena Xiaoli was many things: stubborn, calm, poised, but indecisive was not one of them. But for once it was indecision that had swirled within her, for nearly an entire season, before she had come to this conclusion. It had not been easy, after all, she had tried so hard to find solace in dusk, under its dusty skies, and its kind people. But, pieces had been missing. Serving as a medic in a place full of them felt empty... and where they were so peaceful, there was rarely any work to be done beyond tending to herself. She had thought the familiarity would bring her peace... instead it lulled her into a constant emptiness, too close to what she had once had, but missing so many parts, it could never feel right. 

The night order had been a breath of fresh air, something new, free of the chains of her past, constantly dragging her behind. In those temples, there was nothing but the comradery and the hustle and bustle of work.  It was sheltered and warm, and she had done better than she had in years... Her health was still precarious, there were days when she excused herself from work and tucked herself away for the day in a quiet room, Picoro curled beside her, but, they were far fewer than they had been in the damp musty swamp.  So finally, after days of mulling it over, she had pulled herself away from the hospital, and slowly picked her way back towards the mountains, letting her heart string her along, pulling her past every doubt. 

She found herself now in the foothills, in the middle of winter, staring ahead at the mountains. She had been camped out here for a few days, tucked against an outcropping of rock for shelter, shivering to keep warm. She was hoping that she would run into someone who she could ask to take her up the icy slopes back to the order. She dared not venture farther on her own in the nicer seasons, let alone in the cold midwinter.  

She hadn't sent word to Tenebrae that she was returning, not sure how she would get a message up the mountains to the order. But there was no doubt in the woman's mind that she would be welcomed back with open arms. She was thinner now, then when she had left. Winter always took its toll, and few factors would have changed that. Her eyes duller then they had been, but there was a determination behind them. She did not intend to wait for the thaw. 

It was on her third day in the foothills, by the outcropping that she finally spotted someone in the distance, through the drifting flurries. She shook the snow off her pelt as she stood, pushing through the snow with some difficulty to make her way towards the stranger. As she approached she let out a nervous whinny in greeting. After all, this was not yet her court, and she had heard that some did not take kindly to strangers. 

@Moira

@Luvena

[Moira]

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moira

I am fire - if you want something salty and sweet, with no opinion, I am not the woman for you. I spit flames, often.

Of all the seasons, winter is the most like home. It is cold. It is frigid. It is entirely soft to look at with a biting edge underneath that shreds her like ribbons if exposed too long. Moira doesn't mind the way the winds howl like wolves at her door, scratching and scratching, tumbling around the eaves, knocking on the walls to find its way in. She doesn't even mind when her breath curls out white, like a moon-moth's wing, to frost the panes of glass separating the rest of the world from her.

Sometimes, she thinks she cages herself up to protect the people of Denocte. Other times, she thinks it's to protect herself from them. Out, where hearts beat and there is a constant stomp of another's feet, where hopes are as pungent on the air as flowers, where smoke never leaves because there's always another story to tell, is a dangerous place full of emotions, aspirations, disappointment and pain. While she's accustomed to it more now than when she arrived some odd years ago, it still never loses its novelty, the sheer newness and freshness of it, of being caught and so entwined in another's life, she's left breathless and aching again. And again. And again.

Lately, since Michael's return and their talk, then their trip to the orchard, and so on, he's scarcely left her side. Wherever she turns, his pale face is there with its soft, sad eyes and sweet smile, another sweet in hand in hopes that she'll eat it. Sometimes, Moira does. Other times, it grows dusty with his hopes that her appetite has fully returned. It hasn't.

Since her trip to the Night Order, Moira seems different, both more and less herself, more assured, less dependent, perhaps. She hasn't quite returned to eating as many sweets as before, still has her sullen, thoughtful silences as she ghosts around the palace and finds respite in the walls of the library, but she's slowly coming to. Like waking from a foggy dream, her eyes clear week by week, her skin a little less drawn, her stars twinkling a little more. They always seem to flicker and glow no matter what she does.

It's a side effect of Weaving, she tells herself. It's part of her immortality now, too.

Somewhere, Neerja lays beside a fire down in the kitchens, watching the bustle of the world, enjoying the scraps tossed her way by their cook and her many helpers. She's taken up lurking there when Moira is in the library. They don't mind not being crushed against one another's side as long as Neerja can still hear Moira's heart beating. When she leaves, the tiger grows restless if her cub is unaccompanied.

Today, the Emissary turns to the Armas. There's always another body out there waiting to be found. She knows so many would choose to walk them even at their most perilous of times. And she knows that she cannot leave them out to freeze.

The phoenix blows a breath against her window, brushes a small star into it white space, and at last turns away from the view of the snow. Grabbing a scarf from precariously stacked shelves full of paints, books and cloths both large and small, she leaves her chambers to head into the night. Outside her own four walls, there are many who say hello, who greet her with warmth or caution. Some still don't know what to say to her, how to treat her since she's returned. It's all the same and she nods her head like a good daughter of Denocte, offering warm greetings, offering praise. At last, she's through the front doors and feels the cold pierce her heart as it once did Estelle's.

Moira doesn't let it slow her, doesn't let it stop her. Instead, she builds a wall of light, a sphere to stave off the snow that would fall and tangle in her hair that's braided back today and draped with the starry charms she carries in her hair and strung through her wings on a normal day. The chains tinkle lightly, laughing as faeries do. She does not walk as mortals walk, she walks as a goddess and eats up the miles between herself and the mountains. By the time she reaches them, the sun's first rays are beginning to turn the sky pink and pale blue, fingers streaming light and mystery into the world. Eyes narrow against it, for she is not one of his children to see despite its brightness or dimness.

And there, just along a ridge with pine to the left and slightly below, a body rises like a waifish bear. If she were not so accustomed to her kind despite their colors, perhaps she would think it an injured animal. Instead, Moira's jaw tightens and she goes further yet, dancing over the slippery slopes as a ballerina on stage. She reaches Luvena dry with red cheeks from the cold, her golden eyes devour her softly.

[Luvena]

The stars are alive, child! Did you know that? Everything out there is alive, and there are grand purpose abroad!

The light held by the made for an easy target in the night, seen even through the blowing snow, and dusted lashes. Though in part it felt like she was walking towards a Will-o-the-wisp, and Luvena found herself wondering, if the being would lead her to misfortune, or to her desire. 

"Good evening!" She calls out awkwardly, not quite sure how to approach the woman she can now see before her. A stunning sight compared to herself. For a moment she was even shaken by the mare, she held colors so strikingly similar to her long dead friend, that she though for a moment she was looking at a ghost rather than a living creature. But then, she quickly realized that there were obvious differences. This woman was far shorter, standing just below herself even, she had white markings painted over her coat, and of course, most evidently, she had wings, where her friend had not.

By the time they reached each other, the woman's face was reddened, though Luvena was more drawn to her eyes, which stood out quite starkly against the darkness. "My name is Luvena Xiaoli" she introduced herself, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, hoping she was not putting her safety into the wrong hands. "I do hate to trouble you but, I wonder if you are headed up the mountains?" Her question was careful, she didn't want to trouble someone who wasn't already headed the same way, nor did she want to assume anyone would help her, even if they were.

@Moira

@Luvena