[private] we are all stardust and stories; mesec - Printable Version +- Beqanna (https://beqanna.com/forum) +-- Forum: Explore (https://beqanna.com/forum/forumdisplay.php?fid=1) +--- Forum: The Common Lands (https://beqanna.com/forum/forumdisplay.php?fid=72) +---- Forum: Meadow (https://beqanna.com/forum/forumdisplay.php?fid=3) +---- Thread: [private] we are all stardust and stories; mesec (/showthread.php?tid=27113) |
we are all stardust and stories; mesec - Islas - 06-07-2020 isn't it lovely all alone, heart made of glass, my mind of stone The night is warm and clear, as most summer nights are. She is learning to appreciate things like this, things that she had not otherwise noticed. Such as the way the breeze is soft when it runs its fingers through her mane, and is not at all sharp and biting the way it could be in the winter. She is learning that in the summer the meadow is more active at night, likely because during the day it was too hot, while in the winter the nights were too cold. It is a strange thing, to be so affected by the weather. Something she is not used to, just one of many things she had to learn to accept. Islas RE: we are all stardust and stories; mesec - Mesec - 06-13-2020
In order for Mesec to try to make a new home for himself in this land, he needed to actually interact with the horses he found. There was a comfort in isolating himself with his memories even though he knew that was no way to live. At least there was also comfort in the various hues he saw, in the wings and horns and antlers that adorned so many of these horses. Perhaps there were hidden poisons lurking but on the surface, Mesec saw something not very different than the land he had been raised in. That familiarity helps with his homesickness but it does not erase it entirely. Part of him wonders if the fresh start he’s been craving is just a mid-life crisis that could have been waited out. At least there is still a moon here. He does not feel as conflicted when he looks at it anymore - the sting of his mother’s crimes has faded with the years and the weight of his own sins. A soft silvery glow surrounds him - Mesec is a creature of the night but he’s not the only one. When his gaze shifts, he thinks he can see some stars that have been pulled down from the sky - and they are being shuffled around, forming constellations. He frowns in concentration, watching them, and then looks around for someone who he can confirm what he is seeing. But that’s when he spots her. Mesec is laced with moonlight but she is all starlight. Her attention is on the hovering stars and he quickly assumes she’s the one causing them to dance and not some unknown puppeteer. For a moment he just observes but, fearing this is creepy of him, he approaches. His voice is sweet and smooth - and gentle enough on the breeze of the night that he hopes it will not startle her overly from her concentration. “Do you name them? The constellations that you make?” Mesec @[Islas] RE: we are all stardust and stories; mesec - Islas - 07-01-2020 isn't it lovely all alone, heart made of glass, my mind of stone She had noticed him, but just barely. Islas @[Mesec] RE: we are all stardust and stories; mesec - Mesec - 07-28-2020
For a moment, he does not think that she will reply. He even fancies, for a brief fantastical second, that she can’t - as if she’s a manifestation of starlight here on earth and cannot interact even if she wanted to. Did this place have gods and goddesses? He could believe it, watching her rearrange the sky as if she were shuffling stones in the sand. Thankfully, she replies before he can say or ask anything embarrassing (“are you a goddess” would certainly be an interesting first impression). Her words inspire a smile that is gentle like the glow around him, and he is thankful for that light tone that softens what he thinks might be cool indifference. But she turns to him, dark eyes in a pale face, and Mesec thinks maybe he imagined the indifference. There is definitely something otherworldly about her, more noticeable with her focus on him. “I’m Mesec.” His silver eyes shift from her to take in the suspended constellation, admiring them and trying to puzzle out if he can see what pattern she was creating (he can’t). “I’ve always favoured starlight over moonlight. The stars are consistent, but the moon always has her moods.” It’s natural, for him to call the moon ‘her’, and he doesn't pause to wonder whether this is a strange comment to make or completely ordinary. It does not take long for him to turn his attention back to the starlit mare, though. The change in his focus not feeling so much snapping out of a daydream as just wading through it in a different direction. “Do you have a name, or are you like your constellations?” Although there’s a small grin, he’s not teasing her - his question genuine and curious. He had met those before that didn’t care for names, didn't think they were necessary or accurate, and occasionally the memory of them colours his interactions even after several years. Mesec @[Islas] |