Delumine was a special place full of special people. She found she related to the equines here, but was not connected enough with them to actually join their court. Perhaps she never would join one, but if she had to choose she would pick the Dawn. As a rule, Willoughby greeted each day - each dawn - with a smile on her face and a spring in her step.
Today was no different. She found herself wandering Delumine, visiting the meadow she had sometimes traveled to. It was peaceful here and she could stop and think. Lyrics bounced around in her mind about many different things. Mostly new routines she would love to play for others. She did not save enough coin for an instrument yet, but she had her eye on something in the Night Market.
It was a lovely item and they promised to hold it for her. Willoughby scoured for anything of value to sell so she could reach her goal. Today she would pluck precious herbs from the meadow. It didn't help she didn't know the names for most of them. Pulling weeds was more her speed. Too engrossed in her own thoughts, she failed to notice the mare approach.
she was powerful not because she wasn't scared,
but because she went on strongly despite her fear.
In the endless wintertime days, when her soul cried and yearned for the blooms of poppies, the evening would blossom instead. Though the land was a shiver of porcelain and the pulsing stars felt more withdrawn in the frigid bitterness of winter, those sunsets would emerge in the atmosphere as a pastel glow swinging to a heated Spanish tempo.
That's what Maerys mused Willoughby resembled: a winter sunset.
The pegasus' locks whirled handsomely in the Illuster Meadow zephyr, echoing the shine of the crystalline heaven. With her eyes of swell streams, she stepped through the verdant blades of grass in the divine Deluminian sunlight. She was nearly incomprehensible to the equine. At that moment, such a meager serving of time, Maerys sensed a throb in her chest.
Willoughby was a jewel, surely crafted piece by piece. Her artist was assuredly the celestial bodies that rest in midnight skies. She was azure and rosy simultaneously, striking yet ever so delicate like the diminutive myosotis that thrive in the northern hemisphere. Ivory strapped her body like the fractures of cream that top the tides on a wind-graced day.
With the mellow summer air above their spines and leafy meadow beneath their pasterns, it was difficult to feel jittery. As Vradara arced above and Maerys approached the stranger, the clouds caressed the sky and an air of serenity washed over the scene.
"G'day, Stranger," she declared once she was within decent proximity to the newcomer. "What brings thee to Delumine?"
With her nose to the ground, she could not scent the other. Perhaps that was her excuse if asked. Instead, she was met with the welcoming tune of a stranger. Willoughby at last looked up as the voice reached her ears. Faced with a mare she did not know yet, the bard smiled regardless. She was just the type and the other woman was friendly in her eyes.
"Oh, I was merely trying to find some things to sell" she said happily enough "I have my eye on a very lovely musical instrument, you see, at the Night Market..." the maiden sighed wistfully "but I must collect things, do some odd jobs and perform for the coin." She had not a stable source of income yet.
Vagabonds rarely did. But the maiden looked thrilled to be given the chance to contribute to the economy, even if it was for a selfish reason. She kept her sunny disposition. "Oh!" she burst out, eyes wide "I am Willoughby! A pleasure to meet you."
she was powerful not because she wasn't scared,
but because she went on strongly despite her fear.
For some, musicology and hymnography was their genesis and their ultimate destination. It was as if musical vibrations synchronized with their nomadic souls, leaving them both lost and found, pulled to the composition of sharps and minors, a harmony that didn't exist in their physical world. Though song and sound was not the translation of Maerys' soul into the audible, she still appreciated it with saccharine fondness.
Willoughby mentions working for coins to acquire the instrument from the Night Market, and, in response, Maerys declares, "I wouldst love to hear thee perform one day." Following a fleeting pause, before she can speak again, the stranger chimes in once more to offer her name to the equine.
"Willoughby," she echoes subtly, doing so to memorize the name. "I am Maerys, a soldier here." Though her drawl still stains her expressions, it no longer sounds as foreign as it once did. "I has't nay coins to offer thee, but I couldst help you gather things to sell if thee wouldst like the company."
Maerys had never been to the Night Market and was therefore hesitant of what was regarded as valuable to its merchants. Despite this, the equine knew she could serve Willoughby by assisting her in accumulating various herbs and plants or by escorting her to other parts of Delumine. Though the soldier had responsibilities to attend to, she was delighted to have an intermission with the seemingly cheerful girl.
She could not help but beam at the mare who so proclaimed she'd love to hear Willoughby play. One day could be soon; especially since the bard liked to perform for friends a lot. Did she consider the woman a friend? Not yet, but it was clear their presence was enough to make her happy. "I would be honored to play for you one day" she bows her head politely.
The mare would introduce as Maerys, a soldier of the court of Dawn. Willoughby hadn't the chance to meet any soldiers yet - warrior types always seemed to want to protect the naïve maiden. She did not mind this, because she had no reason to fight anyway. "And I'd enjoy the company - this work is quite dull without it!" she giggles.
Moving a bit to the side to allow the soldier some space, she brushed her nose to the ground again. "Have you lived in Delumine long, Maerys?" she asked her new companion.
she was powerful not because she wasn't scared,
but because she went on strongly despite her fear.
Willoughby insists she would be honored to one day perform for the soldier, a beam embroidering her tapered mandible as she does so. The pegasus predictably has a comely grin, one that progresses beyond the lips and to the eyes. Maerys could distinguish the smile in Willoughby's words as she spoke even; it was delightful.
With license awarded for Maerys to linger, the soldier watched to discern what the newcomer would secure. It was always curious to Maerys that others would appear in Delumine to accumulate tangible goods rather than bask in the ostensibly infinite knowledge of their library. Though Maerys conceded that everyone had distinct and diverse affairs that necessitated varied goods, the compilation of age-worn leatherbacks that lined the notable bark walls just north of here was timeless and priceless wisdom for the soul.
Willoughby shifts to the side, rending Maerys from her thoughts, and then lowers her tapered jaw into the weed, scavenging once again.
Have you lived in Delumine long, Maerys?
It hadn't seemed long; the years warped and wrapped around her frame with such expertise and velocity that it had become natural to lose track of them. She had spent half her life here. The inquiry invigorated some concern in the core of the mare because it had never been her intention to remain here.
"Two years," Maerys divulged easily, though she offered no further insight on the subject. "And... where didst thee come from?" The inquisition was imprecise and scanty enough that Willoughby could counter in any way she deemed suitable. Maerys had never been one to confess much about herself or her history and, in turn, did not demand specifics about others but would heartily welcome them should they offer.
After her voice flutters in the expanse between them for just a note and the conversation progresses, she turns her eyes to the earth beneath her hooves and scans it for any flora the stranger could cache.
It was a lot longer than she had been here for, and Willoughby wondered just how old this land was. Surely there gods here. She could sense them in every sense of the word. Where there were gods, there was longevity. There was culture and religion seeped so deep that time nary forgot.
"Nowhere in particular" the bard wasn't hiding anything, though. She knew that she had been a nomad for a long time, and lived in places with no formal name. Her parents, bless them, were in the wind now. She could never hope to find them again. "I traveled a lot when I was young... and traveled when I was older."
Novus was the first place she had remained in for little over a few months. "I don't belong to a court" she went on "yet" there was some hidden wisdom in that singular word "but the people here are nice. I like being unaffiliated; I get to meet many different types."
she was powerful not because she wasn't scared,
but because she went on strongly despite her fear.
Ah, a traveler.
"I see," she mused in the space between Willoubghy's words, intrigued by the mare's past. From the soft song of marram grasses in the breeze to frosted evergreen conifers powdered with snow, Maerys had also traveled tremendous distances. "You must've seen a lot," because the equine definitely had. The world was quite astonishing once you clawed your way out of the mire and dysfunction. It was tough to see the world without the haze of discontent, but not impossible, and when the brain was open to the beauty of this reality, it was an invaluable experience.
She alleged she didn't belong to a court yet and Maerys speculated that meant the nomad had plans that extended months into the future. Additionally, Willoughby insisted that she fancied meeting all the diverse personalities Novus had to offer, a sentiment that Maerys could agree with. "Well, shouldst thee ever find thyself necessitating shelter," she commented in her diminutive tone, "Delumine eternally welcomes the respectful guest in."
After a fleeting lapse, Maerys' eyes loiter composedly to the right. Among the verdurous shoots of green endured a little flowering plant that would be valuable to the merchants in other courts. "Watch," she remarked, flicking her skull in the direction of the bloom. "Verbena hastata, more commonly known as Vervain," she remarked as she smoothly moved towards the purple plant.
Reaching down, Maerys clasped the plant in her slender jaw and tore it from the earth before pitching it in Willoughby's direction. "It possesses medicinal attributes, and holds a decent value."
"Thank you, Maerys" she replied to the offer of shelter, grateful. Willoughby only hoped out of this encounter one single thing - save for coin - and that was a new friend. The mare beside her was a good sort, she could tell these things. Her way of speech was akin to old tomes about old stories. Lyrics, too. It was wonderful, not strange.
"I have seen a lot, but not enough" Willoughby comments with a slight giggle "such as that - that plant." she moves a bit closer at Maerys' find. The mare pulls it from the ground after her explanation, to which the maiden looks regretfully down at the patch of bare earth now. The violet plant was lovely, but she didn't know what it was for.
How could one small thing be valuable? But Maerys said it was, so Willoughby would believe her. "Do you know a lot about plants?" she inquired her companion, collecting the vervain quietly with a delicate hoof.
she was powerful not because she wasn't scared,
but because she went on strongly despite her fear.
As the adage says, the more you know, the more you realize you don't know. That is why Maerys understood why Willoughby said she had seen a lot, but not enough. Every new rendezvous created the opportunity for hundreds of more, and each of them was brimming with exponential potential to unearth new knowledge.
Maerys noticed the maiden's eyes slip down to the terrain, to the spot of dirt that rest naked, but could not pinpoint what her expression meant. Was she bothered Maerys had extracted it from the soil? The warrior understood that more blossomed in the expanse around them, that her uprooting one plant would not devastate the established ecosystem in Delumine.
"I may knoweth more than the average soul, but not enough to becometh a medic," she explained while watching her collect the plant. "I only learned about this plant during combat training one day," the tale began. "I hadst been watching two others train" - their match had been a choreographed shuffle of war - "and injury in spars doest occureth." She could recall the strain and passion that had modified their spar, intensifying what had previously been a simple mediocre training session. "'Tis not oft, but it doest happen ocassionally," Maerys added, taking extra caution not to intimidate the newcomer - Deluminians were not habitually barbaric personalities. "The medic came with vervain, claimed it repaired nerve damage while also relieving stress, and tended to the pair." And because the plant could only persevere in this meadow, among the fronds of bee balm and poppies, not existing in other parts of Novus, it was deemed more and more precious the further away from Delumine it was brought.
Maerys was uncertain how much the traveler's instrument cost, or how much she had already earned, but surely Delumie's bounteous flora would carry her closer to her goal.
![[Image: maerys-pixel.png]](https://i.ibb.co/kM48w8r/maerys-pixel.png){kind=tracking}
