[P] grace in twilight

[Fever]

Twilight turns the sky a dusky cocktail of indigo and firelight, it bleeds into an ink-ladled night away from the horizon, where the stars are angel eyes and they blink away the sleep. The air is warm, all the heat from the dunes rising like wayward spirits, forced to wander the earth until the hours pass and soothe away the warmth.
 
The mirages were not the only restless entities.

A chimera mare slinks across the desert, she moves like a sidewinder, graceful and sylph-like across the tide of moon-bleached sands. She is a dark and wrathful shape, a wraith of a woman, hairs dancing wildly behind her like a pennant of war. Quietly, she slithers to the mouth of an oasis; two golden black eyes trace the dappling shadows of the lush foliage for signs of life – a speckled ear and its plain partner are cupping the air and listening for strangers.

For the time being, her only company was the crickets in the brush. The babbling of the waterfall was uninterrupted, the soft whispers of water cutting into sandstone a temptress of peace.

Fever sighs once she is certain she is alone, her shoulders slump gently, her posture is relaxing as she sinks into tranquility. Vitae Oasis was still standing in all her glory – the woman fondly recalls her excursions here, whenever she’d convince another slave to come with her, and in strange sisterhood, they’d come bathe in hopes the waters would dissolve their chains; Fever remembers other women much wiser than her telling her secrets of the limestone that turns to milk in these waters, and they would paint over her wounds and sores and gently sing servant hymns.

If ever asked what love is, she would assume that besides the grace of her mother, those wiser crones were as close to love as Fever would ever get – that kind of affection was selfless and healing, primal and feral yet gentle and tender.

Tonight, she hoped to see their ghosts playing in the pools, perhaps laughing and splashing, free and untamed. And maybe they were quietly watching, but instead of hair braiding and gaiety, only the wind plays in Fever’s tangles, and no smile touches her black lips.

Fever instead draws closer to the water’s edge, glancing further back behind the fronds where the waterfall spills. She looks down to her reflection and shifts, prepared to remove her mask and jewelry so that she can slip into the water. Yet she hesitates as an unknown perfume hits her nostrils, stirs something alive in her, and she unsheathes that knife-like stare and looks over her shoulder into the darkness. Her heart is fluttering rapidly and she can feel the adrenaline eating at her muscles, yet she masks her fear of the unknown well, and does not let the stranger know that she has been startled.

“Well,” she speaks like the juice spilling from crushed ripe fruit, “Are you coming to join me? These waters heal you.” With a curious curl of her neck, she awaits to see and hear the figure out of reach.


@Torielle

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[Torielle]

As the weather shifted, so too did the concerns and curiosities of the dappled scholar. For too long she had been bound to the edges of the Viride, though those chains had been of her own doing. Too fearful to leave the safety of the forest and do what she had always been meant to do- gather the stories of those around her. Torielle hadn’t wanted to admit it for years now, that the world she had once loved and known was lost to her. That her goddess was silent because her goddess did not preside over these lands. She had wandered the thick vegetation of that wood in hopes that she might find the shimmer between the boughs, a glimpse of the land she so cherished, her family that she missed. 

In doing so, she had forsaken the company of others, save for the few interactions she’d had upon her first arrival. The lady of the ocean had been her first lesson, and while the scar upon her neck was hidden well by the drape of her mane, it was a reminder she would carry for a lifetime. Her first true introduction to the lands of Novus had been at the Spring Festival, when she had seen all the different denizens of the lands around her, the cultures and pleasantries that they each brought with them. 

Though the mare adored the family she had chosen, mostly in the company of Veil, but too in the young life that was Aeon- who was growing into a fine young man if she could say so- seeing the variety of life that Novus had to offer, as well as Veil’s own praises for the various deities that lent guidance to each of them, had rekindled her joy for the personal stories of the people. After all, that had been her purpose within the Sage’s Temple, when she could Planes Walk and discover the lives of those other than she. 

It had been difficult to part with Veil, but the starwoman had understood, and assured the mare that the universe was keeping an eye on her. If something were to happen, the stars would promptly inform the pegasus and it would only be a matter of time before the two would be reunited, if such tragedy were to occur. Torielle didn’t believe such a thing would happen, and the further she traveled the more that solidified. The expanse of the plains had been entirely uneventful, though she could not hide the nervous flutter in her belly as she closed in on the edge of Solterran lands. 

The maps the scholar poured over prior to her trip had been very informative, though things always look simple when displayed on a reasonably sized parchment. She knew there was an oasis somewhere near the border of the desert, as a sort of midway between the neutral lands and the capital city. Everything between her and there was nothing but rolling dunes, sun warmed sands and reptiles of every possible kind. In her studies she had heard of creatures that liked to hide beneath the sands, but in an effort to not worry herself out of going, she had made a point not to read any further. If she were going to be gobbled up by some sand creature, she’d rather not know about it. 

The desert landscape was beautiful as it was terrible- unforgiving and steadfast. Miles of soft swells stretched before the mare in every direction, and it became immediately clear that her thick mountain bones were not crafted for life among the dunes. Rocky outcroppings and freezing cold certainly were nothing to sniff at, but the desert was another beast. One could blink and the entire shape would transform before your very eyes. An inexperienced wanderer could get lost only just out of sight of salvation and never know it. 

When Torielle stumbled upon the Oasis, she almost thought it was a mirage at first. Surely she had not been so lucky as to find their cool waters as the sun disappeared below the sands? The mare had only been without water for the day, but a searing summer sun beating across the back of a desert was a very different creature from a muggy wood. 

The doe broke through the foliage, the caress of the leaves like a gentle kiss after the rough grit of the dunes against her hide. At the edge of the waters stood the most glorious creature she had ever seen- surely this was a mirage then. A siren brought forth from the desert to sing her a beautiful lullaby as the temperatures stole her strength away to be buried beneath the sands by the morning.  

By the gods she was gorgeous. All sinnew, sleek, exotic elegance. Brilliant white splashed across a dark coat accented with warm golds and the longest banner the mare had ever seen. Spires rose like thorns along her crest in a half halo. Was she a demon or a goddess? Perhaps both? What little breath Torielle held in her lungs was stolen away at the sight of her. 

Briefly her own visage crossed her mind. Windswept, coated in sweat and grime and the life of the desert. Tarnished, beaten and bruised, like a forgotten antique. “I could certainly benefit from healing,” The words fell from her ebony lips, but the husky tone was not one she recognized. 



“Talk.”| @Fever 

You’re the poet in my heart; Never change, never stop

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