you shine in this pitch darkness
that is the butterfly effect
The stallion dressed in a simple purple cloak was easy to overlook; he'd made it that way. His image a blur of unrecognizable features as he traveled the little used streets. He didn't mind the lack of attention, of company, of anyone attempting to butt into his business. He was on a mission of the utmost importance, or at least important to him. He stood at the doorway, a small box gently being left to the ground, wrapped in a sparkling purple fabric and the a soft gold ribbon. He quietly activated the rune on the note, "Seal, Syn." ensuring that only his best friend would be able to open it. He winced at the flare of magic that reminded him of how weak, how puny this bastardized version of his former ability was. He snorted once, knowing she'd recognize his craftsmanship as soon as she opened the box, found the delicate butterfly inside. He could already hear it fluttering about faintly from it's confines.
He snorts as he turns away, weaving through the streets, following the same path that was drawn out in golden ink upon the unsigned note he had left her. No words. No explanation. Just a sketch of the path to follow. He slid into his workshop and home, sighing as he shook the snow from his back. His gaze turned towards the fireplace, and spoke the command that would activate the rune he had carved into the fireplace, "Light." The stallion swayed at the rush of magic leaving him, frowning again at his own weakness. It wasn't much that he had done. Activated two runes, but that was already his limit for the time with out a proper rest.
Making a face, the stallion went about organizing and carefully setting a teapot over the fire, organizing raw materials in their shelves, all variety of work to help continue to organize, set up and unclutter the haphazardly tossed about items that had been so cruelly handled by those movers when he'd bout this place. The mage shook his head in dismay, finding another gem smashed into pieces, quietly scooping up much of the mushed glittering dust into a jar that could still be used elsewhere while carefully preserving the larger pieces for future refinement. All the while, his ears remained on the door, for when his best friend would come blazing in as he expected she would. She was always the energy to his collectiveness after all.
"Speech" Thoughts
@Absynthe Notes: <3 As promised his first post for Syn
Syn was fluttering around her home, enjoying the peace that happened when she was away from the general eye of others. There was a part of her that was longing for a certain friend, an individual that knew her better than any other. It had been too long since she had seen the face, heard the dry humor in his voice. A momentary thought passed her mind and she paused. Would she ever see him again? Reinhart was amazing, but he was no Savannah…
That was the moment that there some sound outside of her door. It was faint, unusual for her home. Prancing through her home to some song in her head, she opened the door and frowned at the gift on the step. There was something familiar about the package, something that seemed to tug at her. Bringing it inside, she gazes at it with confusion.
"Why does this seem so familiar… Did I offend someone enough to poison me? Oh yes… ‘Let me gift Syn with something pretty so that the stupid fae has no idea that she is about to die…’ Just what I need." She grumbled, starting to tug at the ribbon. There was a momentary tightness that she couldn’t overcome before the release that signaled with a scent that danced in her nares.
"Wait… I know that scent, that magic… but he was no where near Novus." She searched the gift, spotting the envelope. Opening it, she frowned at the map in confusion. Then there was a fluttering sound within the box. Opening it, she saw the butterfly and gasped softly. It was stunning and more intricate than the one he had left her with so long ago. Then it moved.
"You enchanted a butterfly… Why does that not surprise me, you crazy wizard." She whispered as she let it climb into her hair and nestle there. Glancing at the map once again, she grinned. Finding her ebony cloak, she hid herself under it and left her home.
The map was simple enough to understand and she let it sink into her memories. The door it led to was simple, but she felt a surge of excitement at the idea of who would be behind it. Knocking, she shook her head. If it was Reinhart, she would casually throw herself through and onto something soft… but Sav was different. He could be dangerous and she respected him too much to intrude.
"Please let this not be a dream… I couldnt handle it if it was." She murmured as she waited, eyes closed.
you shine in this pitch darkness
that is the butterfly effect
The air of his shop was starting to warm in the setting days of winter. Spring was a whisper on the horizon, promising warmer weather, dreary days, and all kinds of other 'nice things.' It meant more and more individuals would be among the streets, seeing the sights, which meant he would be drawn into his home, more and more and more. So while the shop was warm now, it needed to be set up sooner rather than later. And he knew as soon as the she-beast with the face of an angel trotted back into his existence, his peace and quiet to get things ready would come crashing down like a house of cards during a windstorm.
He did manage to make sure he had enough space cleared up, cleaned up, tidied up and organized enough to be comfortable, that they'd be able to relax while they caught up. He didn't expect her to pry herself from him until well after sundown (truth be told, he was already worrying over where he could set up a second sleep area as he half expected her to crash here - and he was NOT sharing his bed with her. She could get clingy, and that got awkward and uncomfortable for him. A knock on the door alerted him of an arrival, and he frowned in surprise. Where was the flurry of energy? The excited 'honey, I'm home' as she came blazing like a rocket into his life, setting things off and driving him insane.
Something was . . . wrong.
The mage moved towards the door, hood firmly in place in case it was here. He paused briefly, and he could hear the murmur on the outside. Oh, oh dear. He opened the door slowly, his gaze sweeping over her, resting first on the butterfly attached to her, the faintest hint of fluttering wings letting him know it was working properly. His gaze finally settled on her, his different-hued eyes blinking, "Who taught you patience enough to not barge into my home, I must send them a gift basket." He drawls out, even as he steps aside, motioning for her to enter. But his gaze doesn't leave her. It's not until the door shuts securely behind him, and he is forced to lock it himself that decides something is very wrong.
"Go sit among the cushions, Absynthe. I have tea heated already, although I suspect you'll need me to add a dose of . . . something harder . . . to it before you tell me what has been going on. You . . . are not yourself." He is already moving about, the stallion shucking his hood back, the wild colors of his mane as visible as his multi-colored hide, all bright pastels against creams and onyx, "Well, do not keep me waiting." He all but orders, setting a cup before her, and filling it with tea - making his own cup up at the same time, before setting out a tray of milk and sugar, and a large glass of old fashioned mead for himself, and her favorite alcohol he tended to keep on hand, "Tea first, hard stuff later if you need it. Talk."
The door opened and Syn’s heart fell. This was not the being that she was expecting. The scent was so familiar, but she had never seen him hidden in a cloak before. "Oh… um…" She started to stammer before his words caught her attention. She looked closer, seeing the eyes hidden within and smiling softly. When he motions her in, she strides in and shakes her own cloak off of her neck.
"What is with the cloak?" She asks softly, vivid eyes following him as he moved. "And regarding the barging in, I was afraid that it wouldn’t be you… and I couldnt bring myself to barge into some stranger’s house." She answered, her gaze dropping to the cushions that she curled into.
Syn eyed the glass before her, the fruity scent tantalizing as she tried to get the nerves to settle. "Where to start…" She murmured, taking a sip of the tea and then adjusting it with milk and sugar to her taste. Another long sip gave her a chance to wrap her head around her world. "Do you remember how I spoke of my cousin before?" She started softly, eyes closed as she pictured the older fae and the way they had left their last meeting.
"Well… She is here. And apparently there have been changes to our home… Her court is gone, either dead or hidden in mine. I wasn’t there to help, to defend our people beside her. I failed my duties as princess and was so far away that home wasn’t even a thought… She says she doesn’t blame me, that she blames herself… but how can I accept that? How can I not be at least partially to blame? I ran away from home, from the future that I was expected to bear. And while I was gone, the fae kingdoms went to hell." She said, her words filled with sorrow and pain.
"We parted badly… the entire conversation went hellaciously. I think she hates me now. She lost everything, her love and her… her…" The word did not want to escape as she felt tears sliding down her cheeks. "Her son. She had a son that was killed and I wasn’t even there to help defend him. How can I blame her when she lost everything in one fell swoop?" Syn pushed aside the tea, draining the glass of alcohol in one drink as she felt the meltdown threatening. All she wanted was to know how to fix it all, and at the same time… There was no fixing things that had gone so dramatically badly.
"She had everything, love and family… Perhaps that is why I have never found real love… Because I let her love die. Maybe I dont deserve it." She whispered softly, eyes closed as she curled in on herself a bit.
@Savannah
"Speaking." Notes: She beast with the face of an angel?!? I figured that she had probably told him everything since she trusts him XD
you shine in this pitch darkness
that is the butterfly effect
The mage was faintly amused to see her expression upon his door opening, the faintest hint of a subtle smirk as she started to stammer before finally looking closer. Her smile was soft, not the cocky, expressive one he thought fit her better, even as she strides in, shaking her own cloak and asking about his own. "I have learned my appearance is rather . . . memorable. I have not intention to have others seek me out with obnoxious zealously. So, I decides to tailor a cloak to fit my needs - that is, the need to be forgettable." He could feel her eyes on him as he moved around, and he snorted once, at the idea of this being anyone else's home, much less that anyone else could create and then enchant a butterfly so thoroughly, "I was not aware you had made companions with other ridiculously talented mages. And here I assumed the butterfly, and the variety of enchantments upon it would have pointed towards my identity." He drawled in a bored tone, even as he set her tea before her.
He could see her struggling to settle her nerves, to find a place to begin her tale at, and so he offered a quiet word of recommendation, "I hear the beginning is the best place to start. Although, telling the end first may help another decide if it is truly a tale they wish to listen to." She finally begins to speak, and he nods at her question, remembering the energetic affection she had used to describe her cousin. However he begins to frown as her tale turns dark. Courts gone, and the blame Absynthe put upon herself. What was more alarming, however, was the manner in which she was unintentionally dismissing her cousin with her own selfish view point, even if she was trying to selfishly destroy her own reputation.
"Be silent." His command is rough, immediate when she mentions the idea that she doesn't deserve affections just because of what happened to her cousin. "You are behaving as if a selfish child, Absynthe, do you not hear yourself? This is not a matter of who should be blamed, and who should not, this was an attempt for your cousin to share her distresses with a family member who would be there to comfort her in her time of loss. By focusing fully upon yourself, you have utterly dismissed your cousin's losses in a way you cannot even fathom yet." He doesn't beat around the bush, his words delivered directly, as he shook his head with a rough sigh, "That said, it does not mean you cannot mourn what has happened, but by placing things into the viewpoint you have, you have turned the entire situation and made it about yourself. It's not only a disgusting trait to have, but one I had not assumed you would unintentionally exhibit."
His words were gentling at this point, and he sighs heavily, "Allow me to ask you this, Absynthe. If the rules were reversed. If you came to your cousin, ashamed and upset over all of this happening to you. Your child dead. Your kingdom destroyed, everything gone. And your cousin behaved as you are now - what would you do? If your cousin ignored your suffering to be upset with herself, because she was living her own life and experiencing her own adventures as was her given right as a living being. Do not blame yourself for what you are allowed to do - to live, to explore, to meet new individuals."
Savannah sighed, before stating almost plainly, "Let me offer another thought to you. Had you been there, rather than exploring. You would never have met me, Absynthe . . . and had you not met me, not helped me in my time of despair . . . I do not believe you'd have gotten the chance to meet me. You may see what happened to your kingdom as failures against your soul, but you are also dismissing the positive impacts you have made in the lives you interacted with. Because you sought to experience life yourself, you saved my own."
The stallion pushed his tea away, picking up his glass of mead made the old-fashioned way and knocking it back to allow the silence to settle for a moment. "We all make choices that will take our lives in different directions, Absynthe. And not all choices will make things always okay. Life is not a fairy tale. Is has multiple characters living out their own lives, making their own choices. Instead of blaming yourself, try to help her not blame herself, and instead turn your blame and ire at those who would destroy the fae kingdoms. They are the ones most worthy of being despised."
He set his half filled mug down, cutting his gaze to his friend, "And if I ever hear such foolish thoughts from you as dictating you're not allowed something like emotional ties, just because of what has happened to another, I will personally turn you into a frog, and use your extremities in potions. Everyone's life belongs to them alone. You may have impact on another's life in a positive or negative way, but it is through interaction only. And it most certainly would never curse you to loneliness . . . only I can curse so thoroughly, so keep your muzzle shut before I decide to try it out against you."
"Speech" Thoughts
@Absynthe Notes: A little tough love?
Syn frowned, her eyes following his movements as the cloak was shed and she saw her beloved friend. "It is less that I know anyone like you and more that I was afraid to hope that it was truly you. Everything has been such a mess and I missed you so desperately… I didn’t want to let my hopes rise." She remarked.
His words turned harsh and it was warranted. She dropped her face to the pillows and groaned. "Usually I am not this selfish!" She exclaimed, her words muffled by the fabric. She lifted her head and gazed at her wise friend. "How do I hear such horrors without blooming myself for failing? How can I speak to her when she must hate me so for being this upset?" Her words were forlorn, eyes watery with emotions and the tears that were rolling down her cheeks.
"I cannot find it in my heart to be upset that my rebellion lead me to you. You have been one of the very best things that has graced my life. Hearing of home, of what was left behind… it makes me feel like a filly in trouble for stupid antics. I wish I could fix it all, but I can’t…" She murmured, shifting to where she could press her forehead to his shoulder.
"You are smart… what should I do? How can I convince Cael that I am not some stupid diva with no care for anyone else? How do I move forward?" Sav had never seen her so out of sorts… He had helped her through injuries and broken hearts, but this was a different kind of pain. A pain that pushed her to be so vastly different from the being that she was at heart. A pain that had broken a piece of her that she wasn’t sure how to mend.
"To say that I have been struggling is an understatement… I fell into alcohol and beds to try to numb the pain. I was alone, hurting… I… I am so thankful that you are here. The moment I saw the butterfly, I knew that you were the only one that could actually make sense of what was going on and wouldn’t sugar coat it all." She whispered, eyes closed and waiting for his next words. He must think she was so stupid… She was being so stupid and selfish and ridiculous. The fickle fae wanted nothing more than to laugh, to feel joy. Yet she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was the last one to deserve it.
@Savannah
"Speaking." Notes: Posting on phone is hard!!
you shine in this pitch darkness
that is the butterfly effect
Her eyes tracked him, as he sets his cloak aside, multi-hued hair falling into pastel eyes. The stallion however pays her little mind, his attention on her words. There was something tragic there, and she wasn't supposed to sing a tale of tragedy - that was his ballad, "While I had no intentions to follow you, I am not opposed to your company. Had I not traveled this way freely, a simple missive requesting my visit would have been enough to see me venturing to this land. I do not have so many friends as to ignore the pleas of one. Further, while I am aware I do not have the capacity or understanding to demonstrate affectionate accurately, despite my study into such social endeavors, you are a treasured friend. Absynthe, you should know, should you ever need me, I shall be here at your side." He doesn't touch her, he doesn't offer a reassuring touch, such actions still confused him. But his expression is calm, certain, unwavering. It is a promise he would never break willingly.
He does feel a sense of dismay when he hears Syn's words, and as her head drops, he doesn't let up on her. He is a heavy handed being. It was how he was raised, "Regardless to if you are typically this selfish or not, it does not excuse your behavior now." He retorts, calm in the face of her exclamation. He remains impassive when she questions how she's supposed to behave otherwise, waiting for to say her piece. He is still and silent, watching the tears fall, but he doesn't reach to soothe. If she is to get past this behavior, she must experience the pain to accept the outcome. Hiding from it through blame was merely a way to escape the truth. "By ignoring the blame. It is a weakness now, a means to escape the reality. Focusing on your own blame keeps you from facing those horrors, facing your own pain and her own. The stories you tell of your cousin do not paint her as a being who would hate you for weaknesses in the face of loss. But your inaction will likely being hurting her as well. Stop searching out a party to blame, when instead you should be leaning on each other in mourning for what you have both lost. She lost her parents, you lost your aunt and uncle; and vice versa. Your parents may be alive, but they cannot be reached any longer. She lost her son, you lost a nephew you didn't have the chance to meet. By blaming anyone neither you, nor she are allowing yourselves to heal as you should. "
He sighs after a moment, not in the least bit surprised that she cannot be upset to have met him. They had saved each other from darkness more than once. "What you must remember is you are not the filly of your youth. In times of suffering you may fall back to a younger mindset to help cope with the pain, but that may also prolong your own healing. Do not run from what you feel. Only by accepting your loss can you emerge stronger after you mourn. It's the stages of grief, darling. You just need to move away from being angry with yourself." He startles briefly at her touch, as he immediately struggles to remember how to handle an upset individual.
Comfort. Yes. Embrace or soothing touch. He awkwardly lowers his muzzle to her shoulder, bumping his muzzle against her flesh in an awkward 'pat, pat' gesture. "There, there?" He both says and asks; already making a note to research comforting techniques if he was going to be dealing with an emotional Syn. Her question distracts him from his uncertainty in comforting motions, and the thoughtful consideration distracts him enough for old learned behaviors to take over when he wasn't focusing anymore.
His tail lifted, soothing over her back as his mother would do when he was a tyke, and scared. "I doubt you would have to try to convince her. If she knows you even half as well as you say she does, she would come to understand why you did it. You just need to humble yourself, ask for forgiveness, and be honest about why you reacted hiw you did. honest to both yourself and her. It will be a long road to recovery from the heartache you both feel, but together you are stronger than alone. Just talk to her about your feelings, and don't dismiss hers either. That is where it went wrong the first time. She was hurting too, and instead of accepting her heart, you dismissed it for your own need to blame yourself. Remember that she is blaming herself too, and while you are both blaming yourselves, neither of you are healing."
The fae was pessimistic, but the trail she had taken to drown and numb it all down hadbthe mage snorting in disapproval, "This stops now. Alcohol and physical relations are a dangerous slope to an unprofitable future. Next time you even consider such actions, you will come directly here, so I might slap you about the head until you see reason again.. I'll have you extracting slime from slugs if it keeps you from destroying your future in such ways, beds and alcohol. How ridiculous. How anyone could take comfort in physical cravings of the flesh I could never understand. But no more. You're wasting your potential on such distractions. You are far better than a one night hook up, regardless." He stated with a firm certainty in his voice." change these behaviors, Absynthe, or I'll curse a chastity belt upon you, do you understand me? Beds and Booze, shameful." He didn't know what part of him was more horrified. The mage who avoided physical contact. Or the old mage raised in a different Era where women simply did not behave in such manner. Shameful indeed. Mentally he added etiquette lessons to his 'fix Syn' list. Apparently the princess needed a refresher course. Simply shameful.
"Speech" Thoughts
@Absynthe Notes: A little tough love?
The words from the stallion soothed the fae, helping her to breathe. "You may not demonstrate affection, but your words speak a different story. I think my biggest fear was that it wouldn’t be possible for you to come if I asked. I have felt so alone here, so adrift from who I am and what I need to do. I missed you… More than I could ever imagine." She murmured as she watched him, her eyes on his as she smiled at his promise. "I think I am afraid to ask for help because I am terrified of being weak." She whispered softly.
His words were harsh, but honest. And Syn found that she could breathe as she let his words sink in. "I hate when you are right." She muttered as she took a deep breath. It wasnt loss of pain, but rather a shift that happened within her heart as she let his words wrap around her. Caelum needed her as much as she needed the elder fae. She sighed softly, tears still streaming down her face as she tried to understand and accept what she was feeling.
Syn feels him startle and sighs softly. "Sorry… I didn’t think. You are not the most touchy being and I usually can remember that." She said softly, snorting at his attempt at comfort. "The stages of grief suck. Why would you have to sort through things with more emotions? It seems like the mind’s way to make everything worse." She grumbled softly.
His words about her cousin were honest. There was a part of her that was amused. It was as if he knew the other mare. "It is so hard to take those next steps… Terrifying… So many what ifs swirling in my head." She stated softly.
Syn flicked an ear and shot him a wavering smile. "Extracting slime from slugs?" She asked, eyes wide in horror at the disgusting task. "While perhaps shameful… it is easier than feeling the pain. Than trying to be perfect. I am not perfect, never will be. But yet, Caelum makes me feel like I have to. Like I need to be her perfect shadow without being myself. It is hard. My parents wanted me to be the essence of cold, to be cruel and calculating and everything expected of a unseelie. I always wanted to be with Caelum, happy and having fun. Now it feels like I need to step back into the dark role I was supposed to take to balance her light…" She said softly, the tears finally drying as she spoke. She took a drink of the tea and frowned at the smoother texture. She wanted another drink of alcohol, but was not going to ask Sav for one.
you shine in this pitch darkness
that is the butterfly effect
Savannah stared at one of the few individuals he willingly allowed to claim ties to him. That she would be so foolish hadn't disappointed him . . . as much as perplexed him that some one would be so foolish to not consider their words, and how they could affect someone. But there was a lot about casual interactions that surprised him and made things not feel too understanding. He'd studied books -so many books - on the arts of communication, empathy and similar subjects. And yet so many of these situations felt as foreign to him as if they had been speaking languages he didn't comprehend. He snorted at the idea that she'd believe he wouldn't come for her if she had asked it of him. "Do not be so foolish, Absynthe. Would point would it have to denied you assistance if you were to beckon for me?" He asked in confusion, before tilting his head, "Everyone has areas they are weak. But that doesn't make you any less of an individual. The point of acknowledging that weakness is to aid it. To either build it up so it is less weak, or find someone in which to even out the weaknesses. It is why I shall never dismiss our friendship, despite how odd it may be. You balance my . . . . difficulties understanding others with your own extremely personable ways. That's how it is for friends. We support each other, and we assist in hiding those weaknesses." The stallion stated firmly. WHere the mare was soft, mumbling, delicate. He didn't honey his own words.
He was direct, he was forthright. He didn't allow the emotions to clog the points he wished to make to her, even if they were blunt and hard hitting, "You should know I am nearly always right. You should come to expect it more." He simply retorts, even as he gathers a piece of cloth for her tears, passing it to her, before he had the chance to startle at her embrace, even as she apologized and he rolled his eyes, "I may not be the most physically demonstrative, but if anyone is going to accost my person; I'd rather it be you." He tells her, before managing a faint smile, "Of course they will not be easy. That is why there is stages one must work through. Do not ask me why one must do these things. I can hardly comprehend daily interactions. I'm not the best at sorting through my own emotions - however, to wallow about in your own negativity will only poison you from the inside."
He grins at her repetition of the task he threatened her with, "Oh, yes. They are rather slippery, so it's not any easy task, but I'm sure you'd become quite adept at it with time." He remarks simply, "And no one is perfect. Perfection is a word used by those who wish to exploit the insecurity of others in order to gain something themselves. But, ask yourself, who is it really who wants you to be this? Your cousin? Your parents? Or is this just the role you have decided they wish for you to take on. Be honest with yourself, Absynthe. On whose definition of perfect to you compare yourself to? Because I do not think it is any of theirs." The issues she had to overcome where mental, and while it may be unkind of him . . . the sooner she realized where her stress truly originated, the sooner she could begin learning how to address it, and overcome it.
"Speech" Thoughts
@Absynthe Notes: A little tough love?
Syn laughed softly, shaking her head. "Not that you would deny… more that I dont deserve it. I have this terrible condition where I feel that I need to earn those that I love." She said with a shake of her head. Why was this stallion so much easier to speak to than anyone else in any world? Save was the other half of her soul, though not in a romantic way.
"I think that describing our friendship as odd is perfect in so many ways. I have always, and will always cherish it none the less." She said softly, warm smile gracing her features.
The more she was with him, the more she found herself relaxing and letting the pain ebb for a time at least. "While you may be nearly always right, I find that telling you such only serves to heighten your ego to nearly insufferable levels." She teased, drying her eyes and letting herself calm.
"My dear friend… If you need accosted, I would be more than willing to help you in that area." She teased, finding herself once again. Being near Savannah was like waking from a nightmare. She felt clarity and calm surrounding her like a blanket, though the emotions were still hiding deep in her heart. There were many words she needed to say to her cousin. Apologies that needed spoken.
The description of the task made her nauseous. She groaned and shook her head, pressing her forehead to his shoulder to try to make him stop. "No. No slugs." She groaned again.
His words were harsh, but honest. "I think it started with my parents. With what they wanted of me. My ideas were not always theirs and it caused turmoil. But as I rebelled, I think my own mind started filling in what I was expected to do and why I was never going to be that perfect princess. I have often heard that we are our own worse critics and my life has been proof of that." She admitted. "It is my definition of perfect, what I think they should all expect of me because of who I am." Her words were soft and she was reflecting on his words and what they meant. Damn stallion and his habit of being right. It seemed to bite her in the ass regularly, though she was less likely to complain about it.
