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She heard she was performing in the Quarter. Melina felt her throat catch. Since that evening in the taverns, Melina had not stopped thinking of Anastasia. She was torn, guilty for putting herself in such a situation. What Melina desired most was to be noticed and Ana did just that. But in the moment of being seen, Melina allowed herself to get carried away.
Her kiss was stolen. Melina never once desired to kiss a woman. Never once did she even think about it. But in a moment where she felt another’s eyes on her’s, Melina’s heartbeat picked up. She felt it deep within the cavities of her chest.
To this day, Melina did not know if her actions were done because she was vulnerable or because she truly desired it. Melina didn’t think she desired it, but when reading about other women in her novels, don’t they also go through these troubles? Was Melina just discovering something about herself? Why did everything have to be so confusing?
There was another question that was left unanswered after that night. What were Ana’s thoughts on this? Did she find Melina beautiful? Was there finally someone other than Xan that saw her be something more than… plain? Or did she merely see the wealth that Melina had? She was a Leventi, dripping with money. The woman knew it too. She knew right from the beginning when she called Melina my Lady.
Her stomach was in knots having at last discovered where Ana was. This time the girl ventured out alone- something that she rarely did. She was a nervous enough girl, often unsure of her thoughts and actions. But she did not want the gossiping servants to speak of a Leventi going out to search for a commoner woman. Melina knew she should leave well enough alone. It was better to have unanswered questions, right? It was easier to just assume what Ana thought… and what Melina thought as well.
But a part of Melina hoped that it was just like her books. A chance encounter. Maybe Melina could get to know Ana and in getting to know her she could get to know herself. Was Melina more than what she thought she was too? She still did not have the desire to lie with a woman, but what if it was her mind just being negative like it typically was? Melina would never know if she did talk.
The performance was lovely. Melina had stuck to the back to the crowd, at awe at what the woman could do. What impressed Melina most was not her movement or words but her confidence. Melina wished she had even a bit of her confidence. She would surely flourish with even that small amount, instead of being relegated to the background like she so often is.
“That was lovely,” Melina finally approached her while she was cleaning up. “I am sorry for not going to the bathhouses, Ana. I… I hope you weren’t waiting too long.”
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Sept 8, 2020 20:39:23 GMT
Posted In Who Are You? on Sept 8, 2020 20:39:23 GMT
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She heard she was performing in the Quarter. Melina felt her throat catch. Since that evening in the taverns, Melina had not stopped thinking of Anastasia. She was torn, guilty for putting herself in such a situation. What Melina desired most was to be noticed and Ana did just that. But in the moment of being seen, Melina allowed herself to get carried away.
Her kiss was stolen. Melina never once desired to kiss a woman. Never once did she even think about it. But in a moment where she felt another’s eyes on her’s, Melina’s heartbeat picked up. She felt it deep within the cavities of her chest.
To this day, Melina did not know if her actions were done because she was vulnerable or because she truly desired it. Melina didn’t think she desired it, but when reading about other women in her novels, don’t they also go through these troubles? Was Melina just discovering something about herself? Why did everything have to be so confusing?
There was another question that was left unanswered after that night. What were Ana’s thoughts on this? Did she find Melina beautiful? Was there finally someone other than Xan that saw her be something more than… plain? Or did she merely see the wealth that Melina had? She was a Leventi, dripping with money. The woman knew it too. She knew right from the beginning when she called Melina my Lady.
Her stomach was in knots having at last discovered where Ana was. This time the girl ventured out alone- something that she rarely did. She was a nervous enough girl, often unsure of her thoughts and actions. But she did not want the gossiping servants to speak of a Leventi going out to search for a commoner woman. Melina knew she should leave well enough alone. It was better to have unanswered questions, right? It was easier to just assume what Ana thought… and what Melina thought as well.
But a part of Melina hoped that it was just like her books. A chance encounter. Maybe Melina could get to know Ana and in getting to know her she could get to know herself. Was Melina more than what she thought she was too? She still did not have the desire to lie with a woman, but what if it was her mind just being negative like it typically was? Melina would never know if she did talk.
The performance was lovely. Melina had stuck to the back to the crowd, at awe at what the woman could do. What impressed Melina most was not her movement or words but her confidence. Melina wished she had even a bit of her confidence. She would surely flourish with even that small amount, instead of being relegated to the background like she so often is.
“That was lovely,” Melina finally approached her while she was cleaning up. “I am sorry for not going to the bathhouses, Ana. I… I hope you weren’t waiting too long.”
She heard she was performing in the Quarter. Melina felt her throat catch. Since that evening in the taverns, Melina had not stopped thinking of Anastasia. She was torn, guilty for putting herself in such a situation. What Melina desired most was to be noticed and Ana did just that. But in the moment of being seen, Melina allowed herself to get carried away.
Her kiss was stolen. Melina never once desired to kiss a woman. Never once did she even think about it. But in a moment where she felt another’s eyes on her’s, Melina’s heartbeat picked up. She felt it deep within the cavities of her chest.
To this day, Melina did not know if her actions were done because she was vulnerable or because she truly desired it. Melina didn’t think she desired it, but when reading about other women in her novels, don’t they also go through these troubles? Was Melina just discovering something about herself? Why did everything have to be so confusing?
There was another question that was left unanswered after that night. What were Ana’s thoughts on this? Did she find Melina beautiful? Was there finally someone other than Xan that saw her be something more than… plain? Or did she merely see the wealth that Melina had? She was a Leventi, dripping with money. The woman knew it too. She knew right from the beginning when she called Melina my Lady.
Her stomach was in knots having at last discovered where Ana was. This time the girl ventured out alone- something that she rarely did. She was a nervous enough girl, often unsure of her thoughts and actions. But she did not want the gossiping servants to speak of a Leventi going out to search for a commoner woman. Melina knew she should leave well enough alone. It was better to have unanswered questions, right? It was easier to just assume what Ana thought… and what Melina thought as well.
But a part of Melina hoped that it was just like her books. A chance encounter. Maybe Melina could get to know Ana and in getting to know her she could get to know herself. Was Melina more than what she thought she was too? She still did not have the desire to lie with a woman, but what if it was her mind just being negative like it typically was? Melina would never know if she did talk.
The performance was lovely. Melina had stuck to the back to the crowd, at awe at what the woman could do. What impressed Melina most was not her movement or words but her confidence. Melina wished she had even a bit of her confidence. She would surely flourish with even that small amount, instead of being relegated to the background like she so often is.
“That was lovely,” Melina finally approached her while she was cleaning up. “I am sorry for not going to the bathhouses, Ana. I… I hope you weren’t waiting too long.”
The life of a performer was a constant event. Anastasia wove through districts within Vasiliadon at her leisure, as comfortable among the common-born as she was the nobility. To do anything else was to appeal to few, where her objective was to flourish among the many. Part of the ruse she created, the veil that obscured her true identity from the rest of the world, relied on her being almost everywhere. Anastasia of the Siren's Song, she called herself. Singing in one district, recounting legends of the Gods and their creation in another... Then wondrous feats of acrobatics in yet one more. Alternating between the capitol and the provinces...
Anastasia of the Siren's Song could be anywhere, and yet... nowhere. She rose from the tides to weave her legends, and anything else, any other notion, served to undermine what she'd built. A reputation, a name (albeit a false one) served as her perfect barrier from the hell of a life she'd once known. So, she flourished in it all. The days sometimes turned into a blur of excitement. Alcohol, sex, laughter, profit, worship... All of it was within her reach and to think too much upon one day or night was an insult to the moment. At least, most of the time. There were exceptions in the form of people or places that clung to her, inexorable attraction or humour, or... something. But bonds were not something that Anastasia often knew.
So, when she heard a voice, vaguely familiar, but also speaking to her with far too intimate a tone... Anastasia set down the pack she kept her things in. Dressed in a chiton draped in azure dyes, with silver upon Ana's throat and tied into her hair, Anastasia looked up from her things and drew an utter blank. Something about the bathhouses? It wasn't incredibly common for her to invite anyone much of anywhere. Ana let her nights flow with her whims, a deluge of wine, the pulls of desire and the fanciful pursuit of finery that turned to a tightened noose when fancy turned to necessity.
A woman of refined and visceral tastes, looking closer at Melina didn't warrant her too much of a second look. Dressed finely enough to be royalty, she didn't get too much of an idea of who she was. They'd met before? She was a stranger, and while Ana was very confused, the ever-present smile of a bard remained cast upon her lips, unchanging even as she struggled to understand what this woman was talking about.
"Sorry, my lady... Are you sure you're speaking to the right Ana?"
The bard didn't want to be rude, especially given that the presumption that this girl was royal made her interesting if only for that reason. Appealing to the good graces of people with money was second-nature to her. But, this... none of this seemed to... click.
"When was this invitation? Maybe you can help stir my memory?"
If these notions of her were true, she might've been digging a knife deeper into Melina's heart. But... she was more curious than worried about any sort of consequences. Who was this woman? What did she think Ana wanted from her? She needed to learn more, and perhaps, as more and more pieces of whatever hypothetical night this girl was talking about would click into place. If not, then she was mistaken and Ana would politely excuse herself before trying to find some sucker to lull into spending copious amounts of money on her.
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Sept 8, 2020 22:51:23 GMT
Posted In Who Are You? on Sept 8, 2020 22:51:23 GMT
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The life of a performer was a constant event. Anastasia wove through districts within Vasiliadon at her leisure, as comfortable among the common-born as she was the nobility. To do anything else was to appeal to few, where her objective was to flourish among the many. Part of the ruse she created, the veil that obscured her true identity from the rest of the world, relied on her being almost everywhere. Anastasia of the Siren's Song, she called herself. Singing in one district, recounting legends of the Gods and their creation in another... Then wondrous feats of acrobatics in yet one more. Alternating between the capitol and the provinces...
Anastasia of the Siren's Song could be anywhere, and yet... nowhere. She rose from the tides to weave her legends, and anything else, any other notion, served to undermine what she'd built. A reputation, a name (albeit a false one) served as her perfect barrier from the hell of a life she'd once known. So, she flourished in it all. The days sometimes turned into a blur of excitement. Alcohol, sex, laughter, profit, worship... All of it was within her reach and to think too much upon one day or night was an insult to the moment. At least, most of the time. There were exceptions in the form of people or places that clung to her, inexorable attraction or humour, or... something. But bonds were not something that Anastasia often knew.
So, when she heard a voice, vaguely familiar, but also speaking to her with far too intimate a tone... Anastasia set down the pack she kept her things in. Dressed in a chiton draped in azure dyes, with silver upon Ana's throat and tied into her hair, Anastasia looked up from her things and drew an utter blank. Something about the bathhouses? It wasn't incredibly common for her to invite anyone much of anywhere. Ana let her nights flow with her whims, a deluge of wine, the pulls of desire and the fanciful pursuit of finery that turned to a tightened noose when fancy turned to necessity.
A woman of refined and visceral tastes, looking closer at Melina didn't warrant her too much of a second look. Dressed finely enough to be royalty, she didn't get too much of an idea of who she was. They'd met before? She was a stranger, and while Ana was very confused, the ever-present smile of a bard remained cast upon her lips, unchanging even as she struggled to understand what this woman was talking about.
"Sorry, my lady... Are you sure you're speaking to the right Ana?"
The bard didn't want to be rude, especially given that the presumption that this girl was royal made her interesting if only for that reason. Appealing to the good graces of people with money was second-nature to her. But, this... none of this seemed to... click.
"When was this invitation? Maybe you can help stir my memory?"
If these notions of her were true, she might've been digging a knife deeper into Melina's heart. But... she was more curious than worried about any sort of consequences. Who was this woman? What did she think Ana wanted from her? She needed to learn more, and perhaps, as more and more pieces of whatever hypothetical night this girl was talking about would click into place. If not, then she was mistaken and Ana would politely excuse herself before trying to find some sucker to lull into spending copious amounts of money on her.
The life of a performer was a constant event. Anastasia wove through districts within Vasiliadon at her leisure, as comfortable among the common-born as she was the nobility. To do anything else was to appeal to few, where her objective was to flourish among the many. Part of the ruse she created, the veil that obscured her true identity from the rest of the world, relied on her being almost everywhere. Anastasia of the Siren's Song, she called herself. Singing in one district, recounting legends of the Gods and their creation in another... Then wondrous feats of acrobatics in yet one more. Alternating between the capitol and the provinces...
Anastasia of the Siren's Song could be anywhere, and yet... nowhere. She rose from the tides to weave her legends, and anything else, any other notion, served to undermine what she'd built. A reputation, a name (albeit a false one) served as her perfect barrier from the hell of a life she'd once known. So, she flourished in it all. The days sometimes turned into a blur of excitement. Alcohol, sex, laughter, profit, worship... All of it was within her reach and to think too much upon one day or night was an insult to the moment. At least, most of the time. There were exceptions in the form of people or places that clung to her, inexorable attraction or humour, or... something. But bonds were not something that Anastasia often knew.
So, when she heard a voice, vaguely familiar, but also speaking to her with far too intimate a tone... Anastasia set down the pack she kept her things in. Dressed in a chiton draped in azure dyes, with silver upon Ana's throat and tied into her hair, Anastasia looked up from her things and drew an utter blank. Something about the bathhouses? It wasn't incredibly common for her to invite anyone much of anywhere. Ana let her nights flow with her whims, a deluge of wine, the pulls of desire and the fanciful pursuit of finery that turned to a tightened noose when fancy turned to necessity.
A woman of refined and visceral tastes, looking closer at Melina didn't warrant her too much of a second look. Dressed finely enough to be royalty, she didn't get too much of an idea of who she was. They'd met before? She was a stranger, and while Ana was very confused, the ever-present smile of a bard remained cast upon her lips, unchanging even as she struggled to understand what this woman was talking about.
"Sorry, my lady... Are you sure you're speaking to the right Ana?"
The bard didn't want to be rude, especially given that the presumption that this girl was royal made her interesting if only for that reason. Appealing to the good graces of people with money was second-nature to her. But, this... none of this seemed to... click.
"When was this invitation? Maybe you can help stir my memory?"
If these notions of her were true, she might've been digging a knife deeper into Melina's heart. But... she was more curious than worried about any sort of consequences. Who was this woman? What did she think Ana wanted from her? She needed to learn more, and perhaps, as more and more pieces of whatever hypothetical night this girl was talking about would click into place. If not, then she was mistaken and Ana would politely excuse herself before trying to find some sucker to lull into spending copious amounts of money on her.
She was smiling. That was a good sign, a great sign! She wasn’t angry! Oh, that was good. Melina was afraid that Ana would be upset with her. Melina did not do well with confrontation, especially when she did not have her sisters or Xan to support her.
But then Ana spoke and she felt time freeze. Her breathing hitched, her heart stopped. For a moment Melina could not do anything. She could only blink, processing the words the Siren had told her. Finally, she opened her mouth and let out one, lame word.
“Oh…”
That little word held so much emotion. Oh, you don’t know who I am. Oh, you don’t care. Oh, you forgot me. Melina was used to being invisible. She was used to people overlooking her, or only talking to her so that they may use her for her family. She was used to being ignored. But… Melina wasn’t used to being forgotten.
Somehow that hurt more. She was given hope with Ana. She looked at her, really looked at her. She smiled and seemed interested, and Melina hoped that was true. She knew there was the possibility that Ana only saw the wealth, but she seemed so kind. And just like that her hope was taken away.
Maybe she had something to drink at the tavern… Melina thought. Ana seemed very sober, but the possibility was there. Maybe Ana was just good at hiding it? But could someone drunk enough to forget have been so eloquent and entertaining? Was that really possible?
“It was a few weeks ago. At… At the tavern? Remember? You kissed me?” Melina didn’t know if she wanted to be standing here right now. She felt so… small and humiliated. She wanted to crawl under a rock and never emerge again. She wanted to just disappear.
This is why you should never leave the library. That tiny voice in Melina’s head said. No one likes you. No matter how hard Melina tried, she couldn’t help but feel like that was true. Aside from Xan and Doro, did anyone outside her family actually care?
It wasn’t as if Melina was in love with the woman. She just met her, after all. Love comes from shared experiences. And now… Melina didn’t want to share any experiences with the woman. The… the commoner. But this was her first kiss. It was a first kiss that she just stole. And now Melina would have to live with this memory for the rest of her life.
“You told the story of Chaybdris.” Melina’s voice was growing quieter. “You wove a lovely tale.” She wove a lovely tale the entire night, it seems. Melina was strung along like a fish on a line, trapped in her hook and reeled right in.
It was as she said in her diary. She was foolish. And now Melina was stuck here, hurt as could be. What happened if she still did not remember Melina? Did she turn and run? Did she lie and say she must be mistaken? Melina should have just left her questions to go unanswered. Now she must suffer.
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Sept 9, 2020 1:49:08 GMT
Posted In Who Are You? on Sept 9, 2020 1:49:08 GMT
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She was smiling. That was a good sign, a great sign! She wasn’t angry! Oh, that was good. Melina was afraid that Ana would be upset with her. Melina did not do well with confrontation, especially when she did not have her sisters or Xan to support her.
But then Ana spoke and she felt time freeze. Her breathing hitched, her heart stopped. For a moment Melina could not do anything. She could only blink, processing the words the Siren had told her. Finally, she opened her mouth and let out one, lame word.
“Oh…”
That little word held so much emotion. Oh, you don’t know who I am. Oh, you don’t care. Oh, you forgot me. Melina was used to being invisible. She was used to people overlooking her, or only talking to her so that they may use her for her family. She was used to being ignored. But… Melina wasn’t used to being forgotten.
Somehow that hurt more. She was given hope with Ana. She looked at her, really looked at her. She smiled and seemed interested, and Melina hoped that was true. She knew there was the possibility that Ana only saw the wealth, but she seemed so kind. And just like that her hope was taken away.
Maybe she had something to drink at the tavern… Melina thought. Ana seemed very sober, but the possibility was there. Maybe Ana was just good at hiding it? But could someone drunk enough to forget have been so eloquent and entertaining? Was that really possible?
“It was a few weeks ago. At… At the tavern? Remember? You kissed me?” Melina didn’t know if she wanted to be standing here right now. She felt so… small and humiliated. She wanted to crawl under a rock and never emerge again. She wanted to just disappear.
This is why you should never leave the library. That tiny voice in Melina’s head said. No one likes you. No matter how hard Melina tried, she couldn’t help but feel like that was true. Aside from Xan and Doro, did anyone outside her family actually care?
It wasn’t as if Melina was in love with the woman. She just met her, after all. Love comes from shared experiences. And now… Melina didn’t want to share any experiences with the woman. The… the commoner. But this was her first kiss. It was a first kiss that she just stole. And now Melina would have to live with this memory for the rest of her life.
“You told the story of Chaybdris.” Melina’s voice was growing quieter. “You wove a lovely tale.” She wove a lovely tale the entire night, it seems. Melina was strung along like a fish on a line, trapped in her hook and reeled right in.
It was as she said in her diary. She was foolish. And now Melina was stuck here, hurt as could be. What happened if she still did not remember Melina? Did she turn and run? Did she lie and say she must be mistaken? Melina should have just left her questions to go unanswered. Now she must suffer.
She was smiling. That was a good sign, a great sign! She wasn’t angry! Oh, that was good. Melina was afraid that Ana would be upset with her. Melina did not do well with confrontation, especially when she did not have her sisters or Xan to support her.
But then Ana spoke and she felt time freeze. Her breathing hitched, her heart stopped. For a moment Melina could not do anything. She could only blink, processing the words the Siren had told her. Finally, she opened her mouth and let out one, lame word.
“Oh…”
That little word held so much emotion. Oh, you don’t know who I am. Oh, you don’t care. Oh, you forgot me. Melina was used to being invisible. She was used to people overlooking her, or only talking to her so that they may use her for her family. She was used to being ignored. But… Melina wasn’t used to being forgotten.
Somehow that hurt more. She was given hope with Ana. She looked at her, really looked at her. She smiled and seemed interested, and Melina hoped that was true. She knew there was the possibility that Ana only saw the wealth, but she seemed so kind. And just like that her hope was taken away.
Maybe she had something to drink at the tavern… Melina thought. Ana seemed very sober, but the possibility was there. Maybe Ana was just good at hiding it? But could someone drunk enough to forget have been so eloquent and entertaining? Was that really possible?
“It was a few weeks ago. At… At the tavern? Remember? You kissed me?” Melina didn’t know if she wanted to be standing here right now. She felt so… small and humiliated. She wanted to crawl under a rock and never emerge again. She wanted to just disappear.
This is why you should never leave the library. That tiny voice in Melina’s head said. No one likes you. No matter how hard Melina tried, she couldn’t help but feel like that was true. Aside from Xan and Doro, did anyone outside her family actually care?
It wasn’t as if Melina was in love with the woman. She just met her, after all. Love comes from shared experiences. And now… Melina didn’t want to share any experiences with the woman. The… the commoner. But this was her first kiss. It was a first kiss that she just stole. And now Melina would have to live with this memory for the rest of her life.
“You told the story of Chaybdris.” Melina’s voice was growing quieter. “You wove a lovely tale.” She wove a lovely tale the entire night, it seems. Melina was strung along like a fish on a line, trapped in her hook and reeled right in.
It was as she said in her diary. She was foolish. And now Melina was stuck here, hurt as could be. What happened if she still did not remember Melina? Did she turn and run? Did she lie and say she must be mistaken? Melina should have just left her questions to go unanswered. Now she must suffer.
"Oh..."
Was there a way to inject more devastation in a single syllable? Anastasia might've felt pity for the girl if she was apprised to what was going on, but for the moment she really didn't know how to handle the moment. She didn't look away or attempt to leave, still gathering her things together until all that she owned that wasn't attached to her body was neatly assembled within the sack.
"It was a few weeks ago. At... at the tavern? Remember? You kissed me?"
This didn't narrow much of anything down. Anastasia often solicited the attentions of women, seeking a kiss or a moment's rapture from the monotony of the world. Pleasure was something that the siren readily, just the sort of thing that Taengea was all-too-willing to provide. It was the reason Anastasia clung to the provinces of Taengea more than the other Greek nation she frequented. It served her sensibilities and her profession was ripe for the taking of coin and wanton indulgence as she pleased.
"You told the story of Charybdis. You wove a lovely tale."
Now, this was something that Anastasia could use to jog her memory. While faces and lips came as they would, the stories that she told were not so easy to forget. There was careful planning involved, after all. Patrons of Anastasia's art could follow her, and telling the same story so often would serve to turn them away. So, she used the countless tales of Greek history and folklore and spaced them out accordingly. Charybdis... She told tales of Scylla maybe a month ago, in Euttica. Charybdis was more recent. She'd recounted the tale of a beast that lived as the storm itself, pulling in ships and sailors in an ever-present hunger.
But what did she do, after? She attempted to recall and began to stitch together a thought, of walking to the bathhouses after going to the beach... With someone? With this girl? She'd washed the sand off from her and waited for a time longer before shrugging her shoulders and heading towards a new tavern. But, she did not weave more tales that night. She'd found a set of lips and a warm body to keep her company. A lady, perhaps fairer than this one, or not... She really didn't know. The memory was a haze of wine and cannabis, so she didn't attempt to delve deeper into the annals of memory, so unreliable.
A hand reached forward to take Melina's, if she allowed it. She'd bring that hand to her lips in a moment of sympathy if the royal girl did not struggle. Then, looking back up, she became all too aware of the woman in front of her.
Melina of Leventi...
It would be a poor choice to upset this girl. While fragile and self-conscious, she came from a powerful family that could make her livelihood more difficult. She offered Melina another smile before she said,
"Yes, of course I remember. I apologize, my lady. The past few weeks have been very... eventful. I've traveled and returned to Vasiliadon. But, it's the poorest of manners to forget such a lovely woman."
Flattery and brushing aside the point was the tactic with which to ensure this girl didn't cry or worse. Creating such a spectacle in front of a still dispersing crowd would be... unfortunate.
"In any case, my lady. How may I serve you? Your apology is not needed. I understand and do not blame you for..."
Whatever it was she apologized about. Anastasia didn't remember inviting the girl to the bathhouse, but clearly Melina's memory was more reliable than her own.
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Sept 19, 2020 20:14:12 GMT
Posted In Who Are You? on Sept 19, 2020 20:14:12 GMT
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"Oh..."
Was there a way to inject more devastation in a single syllable? Anastasia might've felt pity for the girl if she was apprised to what was going on, but for the moment she really didn't know how to handle the moment. She didn't look away or attempt to leave, still gathering her things together until all that she owned that wasn't attached to her body was neatly assembled within the sack.
"It was a few weeks ago. At... at the tavern? Remember? You kissed me?"
This didn't narrow much of anything down. Anastasia often solicited the attentions of women, seeking a kiss or a moment's rapture from the monotony of the world. Pleasure was something that the siren readily, just the sort of thing that Taengea was all-too-willing to provide. It was the reason Anastasia clung to the provinces of Taengea more than the other Greek nation she frequented. It served her sensibilities and her profession was ripe for the taking of coin and wanton indulgence as she pleased.
"You told the story of Charybdis. You wove a lovely tale."
Now, this was something that Anastasia could use to jog her memory. While faces and lips came as they would, the stories that she told were not so easy to forget. There was careful planning involved, after all. Patrons of Anastasia's art could follow her, and telling the same story so often would serve to turn them away. So, she used the countless tales of Greek history and folklore and spaced them out accordingly. Charybdis... She told tales of Scylla maybe a month ago, in Euttica. Charybdis was more recent. She'd recounted the tale of a beast that lived as the storm itself, pulling in ships and sailors in an ever-present hunger.
But what did she do, after? She attempted to recall and began to stitch together a thought, of walking to the bathhouses after going to the beach... With someone? With this girl? She'd washed the sand off from her and waited for a time longer before shrugging her shoulders and heading towards a new tavern. But, she did not weave more tales that night. She'd found a set of lips and a warm body to keep her company. A lady, perhaps fairer than this one, or not... She really didn't know. The memory was a haze of wine and cannabis, so she didn't attempt to delve deeper into the annals of memory, so unreliable.
A hand reached forward to take Melina's, if she allowed it. She'd bring that hand to her lips in a moment of sympathy if the royal girl did not struggle. Then, looking back up, she became all too aware of the woman in front of her.
Melina of Leventi...
It would be a poor choice to upset this girl. While fragile and self-conscious, she came from a powerful family that could make her livelihood more difficult. She offered Melina another smile before she said,
"Yes, of course I remember. I apologize, my lady. The past few weeks have been very... eventful. I've traveled and returned to Vasiliadon. But, it's the poorest of manners to forget such a lovely woman."
Flattery and brushing aside the point was the tactic with which to ensure this girl didn't cry or worse. Creating such a spectacle in front of a still dispersing crowd would be... unfortunate.
"In any case, my lady. How may I serve you? Your apology is not needed. I understand and do not blame you for..."
Whatever it was she apologized about. Anastasia didn't remember inviting the girl to the bathhouse, but clearly Melina's memory was more reliable than her own.
"Oh..."
Was there a way to inject more devastation in a single syllable? Anastasia might've felt pity for the girl if she was apprised to what was going on, but for the moment she really didn't know how to handle the moment. She didn't look away or attempt to leave, still gathering her things together until all that she owned that wasn't attached to her body was neatly assembled within the sack.
"It was a few weeks ago. At... at the tavern? Remember? You kissed me?"
This didn't narrow much of anything down. Anastasia often solicited the attentions of women, seeking a kiss or a moment's rapture from the monotony of the world. Pleasure was something that the siren readily, just the sort of thing that Taengea was all-too-willing to provide. It was the reason Anastasia clung to the provinces of Taengea more than the other Greek nation she frequented. It served her sensibilities and her profession was ripe for the taking of coin and wanton indulgence as she pleased.
"You told the story of Charybdis. You wove a lovely tale."
Now, this was something that Anastasia could use to jog her memory. While faces and lips came as they would, the stories that she told were not so easy to forget. There was careful planning involved, after all. Patrons of Anastasia's art could follow her, and telling the same story so often would serve to turn them away. So, she used the countless tales of Greek history and folklore and spaced them out accordingly. Charybdis... She told tales of Scylla maybe a month ago, in Euttica. Charybdis was more recent. She'd recounted the tale of a beast that lived as the storm itself, pulling in ships and sailors in an ever-present hunger.
But what did she do, after? She attempted to recall and began to stitch together a thought, of walking to the bathhouses after going to the beach... With someone? With this girl? She'd washed the sand off from her and waited for a time longer before shrugging her shoulders and heading towards a new tavern. But, she did not weave more tales that night. She'd found a set of lips and a warm body to keep her company. A lady, perhaps fairer than this one, or not... She really didn't know. The memory was a haze of wine and cannabis, so she didn't attempt to delve deeper into the annals of memory, so unreliable.
A hand reached forward to take Melina's, if she allowed it. She'd bring that hand to her lips in a moment of sympathy if the royal girl did not struggle. Then, looking back up, she became all too aware of the woman in front of her.
Melina of Leventi...
It would be a poor choice to upset this girl. While fragile and self-conscious, she came from a powerful family that could make her livelihood more difficult. She offered Melina another smile before she said,
"Yes, of course I remember. I apologize, my lady. The past few weeks have been very... eventful. I've traveled and returned to Vasiliadon. But, it's the poorest of manners to forget such a lovely woman."
Flattery and brushing aside the point was the tactic with which to ensure this girl didn't cry or worse. Creating such a spectacle in front of a still dispersing crowd would be... unfortunate.
"In any case, my lady. How may I serve you? Your apology is not needed. I understand and do not blame you for..."
Whatever it was she apologized about. Anastasia didn't remember inviting the girl to the bathhouse, but clearly Melina's memory was more reliable than her own.
I understand and do not blame you for…
For? Well? Why did all this feel hollow? When she had first saw Ana she thought there was this… connection. Clotho spun the thread, Lachesis allotted it… did Atropos mean to cut it? Was what bound them together already dead? Or perhaps it never existed, to begin with. There was no thread between them, but merely a string, thin and invisible, that snapped the moment Melina had decided to turn away.
Ana had kissed her hand with the same lips that once were on Melina, but the gesture did not have the warmth that she did on that night. None of this felt… right. None of this at all. She claimed to remember, and perhaps she did… after Melina stirred her thoughts. But surely if there was a moment between them, Melina would not have needed to speak. Melina never once forgot Ana since that evening. Ana should have recognized Melina upon first glance if… that night was of any significance.
But Melina couldn’t blame Ana. Why would it be significant? It was Melina. The forgotten Leventi. She was not pretty, not like her cousins or Dafni. She was not charismatic, not like Agape. She was weak and small. She was nothing. She was a nobody. Was she even a Leventi?
Melina began to blink as she felt tears starting to cloud her vision. She did not want to cry. She did not want to make a scene. She did not want to be noticed… especially not by Ana. Melina had to be strong. A Leventi would be strong. A Leventi wouldn’t cry for being forgotten. Even if it was by the woman who stole her first kiss…
Maybe she was just confused. That was a possibility. Maybe Melina was being too harsh on Ana. She said that she would never be forgotten. Ana wouldn’t break her promise, would she? But what was a promise but just words? The bard painted them as prettily as an artist to their medium. Was Melina transfixed by her? Did Melina find herself in another trap?
Round and round the spiral went. The moment Melina tried to convince herself things were fine, and that Ana just made a mistake, she got down on herself once again. She just had to… test Ana. She had to give her the chance to prove to Melina that she did remember her and the time that they shared together. Melina should reserve her judgment before that. It was only fair.
Blinking rapidly, she reclaimed her hand. “For…?” She wanted Ana to finish her sentence. A sentence that Melina had apologized for just moments before. “Ana, if you don’t mind me asking… what is it that you said after you first kissed me?” When she stole her first kiss and made a memory that even if Melina wanted to forget she never could. Ana cemented herself in Melina’s mind, and she could only hope that it would be a memory she looked back to with a smile...
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Sept 19, 2020 20:55:08 GMT
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I understand and do not blame you for…
For? Well? Why did all this feel hollow? When she had first saw Ana she thought there was this… connection. Clotho spun the thread, Lachesis allotted it… did Atropos mean to cut it? Was what bound them together already dead? Or perhaps it never existed, to begin with. There was no thread between them, but merely a string, thin and invisible, that snapped the moment Melina had decided to turn away.
Ana had kissed her hand with the same lips that once were on Melina, but the gesture did not have the warmth that she did on that night. None of this felt… right. None of this at all. She claimed to remember, and perhaps she did… after Melina stirred her thoughts. But surely if there was a moment between them, Melina would not have needed to speak. Melina never once forgot Ana since that evening. Ana should have recognized Melina upon first glance if… that night was of any significance.
But Melina couldn’t blame Ana. Why would it be significant? It was Melina. The forgotten Leventi. She was not pretty, not like her cousins or Dafni. She was not charismatic, not like Agape. She was weak and small. She was nothing. She was a nobody. Was she even a Leventi?
Melina began to blink as she felt tears starting to cloud her vision. She did not want to cry. She did not want to make a scene. She did not want to be noticed… especially not by Ana. Melina had to be strong. A Leventi would be strong. A Leventi wouldn’t cry for being forgotten. Even if it was by the woman who stole her first kiss…
Maybe she was just confused. That was a possibility. Maybe Melina was being too harsh on Ana. She said that she would never be forgotten. Ana wouldn’t break her promise, would she? But what was a promise but just words? The bard painted them as prettily as an artist to their medium. Was Melina transfixed by her? Did Melina find herself in another trap?
Round and round the spiral went. The moment Melina tried to convince herself things were fine, and that Ana just made a mistake, she got down on herself once again. She just had to… test Ana. She had to give her the chance to prove to Melina that she did remember her and the time that they shared together. Melina should reserve her judgment before that. It was only fair.
Blinking rapidly, she reclaimed her hand. “For…?” She wanted Ana to finish her sentence. A sentence that Melina had apologized for just moments before. “Ana, if you don’t mind me asking… what is it that you said after you first kissed me?” When she stole her first kiss and made a memory that even if Melina wanted to forget she never could. Ana cemented herself in Melina’s mind, and she could only hope that it would be a memory she looked back to with a smile...
I understand and do not blame you for…
For? Well? Why did all this feel hollow? When she had first saw Ana she thought there was this… connection. Clotho spun the thread, Lachesis allotted it… did Atropos mean to cut it? Was what bound them together already dead? Or perhaps it never existed, to begin with. There was no thread between them, but merely a string, thin and invisible, that snapped the moment Melina had decided to turn away.
Ana had kissed her hand with the same lips that once were on Melina, but the gesture did not have the warmth that she did on that night. None of this felt… right. None of this at all. She claimed to remember, and perhaps she did… after Melina stirred her thoughts. But surely if there was a moment between them, Melina would not have needed to speak. Melina never once forgot Ana since that evening. Ana should have recognized Melina upon first glance if… that night was of any significance.
But Melina couldn’t blame Ana. Why would it be significant? It was Melina. The forgotten Leventi. She was not pretty, not like her cousins or Dafni. She was not charismatic, not like Agape. She was weak and small. She was nothing. She was a nobody. Was she even a Leventi?
Melina began to blink as she felt tears starting to cloud her vision. She did not want to cry. She did not want to make a scene. She did not want to be noticed… especially not by Ana. Melina had to be strong. A Leventi would be strong. A Leventi wouldn’t cry for being forgotten. Even if it was by the woman who stole her first kiss…
Maybe she was just confused. That was a possibility. Maybe Melina was being too harsh on Ana. She said that she would never be forgotten. Ana wouldn’t break her promise, would she? But what was a promise but just words? The bard painted them as prettily as an artist to their medium. Was Melina transfixed by her? Did Melina find herself in another trap?
Round and round the spiral went. The moment Melina tried to convince herself things were fine, and that Ana just made a mistake, she got down on herself once again. She just had to… test Ana. She had to give her the chance to prove to Melina that she did remember her and the time that they shared together. Melina should reserve her judgment before that. It was only fair.
Blinking rapidly, she reclaimed her hand. “For…?” She wanted Ana to finish her sentence. A sentence that Melina had apologized for just moments before. “Ana, if you don’t mind me asking… what is it that you said after you first kissed me?” When she stole her first kiss and made a memory that even if Melina wanted to forget she never could. Ana cemented herself in Melina’s mind, and she could only hope that it would be a memory she looked back to with a smile...
Moments came and went like the rise and fall of the tide. There were many stories woven by the taleweaver, by the virtue of her profession and the whimsy with which her life carried. Each day could be dramatically different than the last, from where Anastasia rested her head, to the dialect with which she spoke. Greece was a large series of kingdoms, after all. With a third of it inaccessible to her, one might've thought that made the world smaller. But, it didn't. The lands were Ana's oyster, with her propensity for captivating attention, it was only natural that she had countless moments with an indeterminate number of people.
Sure, the night was beginning to form in her mind. The memories were being supplanted by Melina herself. She remembered kissing the woman atop the sands of the beach, the both of them pushed into an alcove and relatively inaccessible to the outside world. But, why the fuck would she remember what she said? Clearly, it was some exercise in desire, right? Royal women seemed to live a repressed sort of life (something Ana reluctantly identified with) and were more capable of remembering every little thing someone said. Anastasia was not so blessed with the copious brainpower required to keep track of every litle thing that she did.
While the bard remained composed, with little of her frustration showing on her pretty face, she was quickly growing annoyed with the needy entitlement that was coming out of Melina. Oh, some common girl kissed me. Clearly, I must confront her and ensure she's as obsessed about it as I am. The mockery for the royal girl flashed through her mind faster than she could control herself on it. Perhaps, just a flicker of it showed on her lips as they pursed, though it could be confused with a sort of thoughtfulness. If Anastasia had difficulty remembering the girl altogether, it was not so much of a stretch for her to take her time going through the night as it manifested. Anastasia sought to buy time, to coax the memories free.
But, in fairness, Anastasia did not listen to herself talk. She remembered something. Melina being reserved and at odds with herself. Uncomfortable in her own skin, and the bard could empathize with her plight. But, perhaps the taste of wine emboldened her to approach when she wouldn't have been so bold before. She'd likely been the instigator, taking a kiss from Melina and likely spurring on this self-conscious confusion within her.
But, this wasn't the way to handle it. No, Melina's tactic of testing her and playing this awful game of chicken with the bard was a waste of time. No longer was Ana was entranced by her demeanor as she'd been. She huffed aloud before she said,
"Maybe I do mind you asking, my lady. I will apologize, for putting thoughts of connection in your ear, but I was not the one who left, hmmm? Why should I be expected to remember the things you've said when you skipped out on me?"
Turn the blame in her direction and get her to run off. There's no reason for this girl to linger around me anymore.
Disinterested, and perhaps flustered, Anastasia found her smile faltering to express the anger that was welling within her. Then, she turned it up a notch. Crocodile tears began to well in her eyes as she drew close to Melina,
"You left me there, alone. I owe you no answers, Lady Melina."
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Sept 21, 2020 20:22:28 GMT
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Moments came and went like the rise and fall of the tide. There were many stories woven by the taleweaver, by the virtue of her profession and the whimsy with which her life carried. Each day could be dramatically different than the last, from where Anastasia rested her head, to the dialect with which she spoke. Greece was a large series of kingdoms, after all. With a third of it inaccessible to her, one might've thought that made the world smaller. But, it didn't. The lands were Ana's oyster, with her propensity for captivating attention, it was only natural that she had countless moments with an indeterminate number of people.
Sure, the night was beginning to form in her mind. The memories were being supplanted by Melina herself. She remembered kissing the woman atop the sands of the beach, the both of them pushed into an alcove and relatively inaccessible to the outside world. But, why the fuck would she remember what she said? Clearly, it was some exercise in desire, right? Royal women seemed to live a repressed sort of life (something Ana reluctantly identified with) and were more capable of remembering every little thing someone said. Anastasia was not so blessed with the copious brainpower required to keep track of every litle thing that she did.
While the bard remained composed, with little of her frustration showing on her pretty face, she was quickly growing annoyed with the needy entitlement that was coming out of Melina. Oh, some common girl kissed me. Clearly, I must confront her and ensure she's as obsessed about it as I am. The mockery for the royal girl flashed through her mind faster than she could control herself on it. Perhaps, just a flicker of it showed on her lips as they pursed, though it could be confused with a sort of thoughtfulness. If Anastasia had difficulty remembering the girl altogether, it was not so much of a stretch for her to take her time going through the night as it manifested. Anastasia sought to buy time, to coax the memories free.
But, in fairness, Anastasia did not listen to herself talk. She remembered something. Melina being reserved and at odds with herself. Uncomfortable in her own skin, and the bard could empathize with her plight. But, perhaps the taste of wine emboldened her to approach when she wouldn't have been so bold before. She'd likely been the instigator, taking a kiss from Melina and likely spurring on this self-conscious confusion within her.
But, this wasn't the way to handle it. No, Melina's tactic of testing her and playing this awful game of chicken with the bard was a waste of time. No longer was Ana was entranced by her demeanor as she'd been. She huffed aloud before she said,
"Maybe I do mind you asking, my lady. I will apologize, for putting thoughts of connection in your ear, but I was not the one who left, hmmm? Why should I be expected to remember the things you've said when you skipped out on me?"
Turn the blame in her direction and get her to run off. There's no reason for this girl to linger around me anymore.
Disinterested, and perhaps flustered, Anastasia found her smile faltering to express the anger that was welling within her. Then, she turned it up a notch. Crocodile tears began to well in her eyes as she drew close to Melina,
"You left me there, alone. I owe you no answers, Lady Melina."
Moments came and went like the rise and fall of the tide. There were many stories woven by the taleweaver, by the virtue of her profession and the whimsy with which her life carried. Each day could be dramatically different than the last, from where Anastasia rested her head, to the dialect with which she spoke. Greece was a large series of kingdoms, after all. With a third of it inaccessible to her, one might've thought that made the world smaller. But, it didn't. The lands were Ana's oyster, with her propensity for captivating attention, it was only natural that she had countless moments with an indeterminate number of people.
Sure, the night was beginning to form in her mind. The memories were being supplanted by Melina herself. She remembered kissing the woman atop the sands of the beach, the both of them pushed into an alcove and relatively inaccessible to the outside world. But, why the fuck would she remember what she said? Clearly, it was some exercise in desire, right? Royal women seemed to live a repressed sort of life (something Ana reluctantly identified with) and were more capable of remembering every little thing someone said. Anastasia was not so blessed with the copious brainpower required to keep track of every litle thing that she did.
While the bard remained composed, with little of her frustration showing on her pretty face, she was quickly growing annoyed with the needy entitlement that was coming out of Melina. Oh, some common girl kissed me. Clearly, I must confront her and ensure she's as obsessed about it as I am. The mockery for the royal girl flashed through her mind faster than she could control herself on it. Perhaps, just a flicker of it showed on her lips as they pursed, though it could be confused with a sort of thoughtfulness. If Anastasia had difficulty remembering the girl altogether, it was not so much of a stretch for her to take her time going through the night as it manifested. Anastasia sought to buy time, to coax the memories free.
But, in fairness, Anastasia did not listen to herself talk. She remembered something. Melina being reserved and at odds with herself. Uncomfortable in her own skin, and the bard could empathize with her plight. But, perhaps the taste of wine emboldened her to approach when she wouldn't have been so bold before. She'd likely been the instigator, taking a kiss from Melina and likely spurring on this self-conscious confusion within her.
But, this wasn't the way to handle it. No, Melina's tactic of testing her and playing this awful game of chicken with the bard was a waste of time. No longer was Ana was entranced by her demeanor as she'd been. She huffed aloud before she said,
"Maybe I do mind you asking, my lady. I will apologize, for putting thoughts of connection in your ear, but I was not the one who left, hmmm? Why should I be expected to remember the things you've said when you skipped out on me?"
Turn the blame in her direction and get her to run off. There's no reason for this girl to linger around me anymore.
Disinterested, and perhaps flustered, Anastasia found her smile faltering to express the anger that was welling within her. Then, she turned it up a notch. Crocodile tears began to well in her eyes as she drew close to Melina,
"You left me there, alone. I owe you no answers, Lady Melina."
Did I do something wrong?
Melina didn’t remember Ana like this. She had tears in her eyes and she was stepping closer to Melina. She hadn’t meant to offend her or to hurt her feelings. Melina was… she was stupid! She was so stupid! How could she? Melina came to apologize and instead she was questioning Ana! Why would she do that?
Because she forgot me…
But what if she didn’t? She called her Lady Melina. Clearly she must remember. It took her a second, but the memory was there. Ana didn’t break her promise. But what if she did? No, stop this. This wasn’t helping her. Melina was the bad person here. Melina should feel horrible for what she had done. And instead, she twisted it on Ana, who was innocent in the whole affair!
Is she?
Melina took a step back and her guilty gaze fell to the floor. Everything was blurry. Suddenly the tears finally slid. Drip, drip. They went down the length of her face and onto the floor. Melina should cry. She should feel awful. She deserved this. She absolutely did.
“I’m sorry…” Melina said quietly as she bit her quivering lip. “I hadn’t… I hadn’t meant to upset you. Or… Or to abandon you. I just thought you… forgotten.” But she didn’t. But then why did it take her so long? Why did she act like Melina had gotten the wrong Ana?
Why was everything so confusing? Melina was used to having no self esteem. She was used to finding her failures. But what she wasn’t used to was feeling so weak. She was crying in public in front of a commoner… whom she kissed. When did Melina get like this? If her father knew what she was doing it would be her end. Melina should run away. She should forget this ever happened. She should try to avoid Ana for the rest of her life and use this as a lesson to be kinder to people. Melina should let this guilt make her into a better person. One without… Ana. Right?
I don’t even want her. That was the worst part. Melina thought she was kind, and beautiful, but Melina didn’t desire Ana. She was lost in the moment and when the moment was over, that was it. But she didn’t wish her ill. She wanted her to be happy. And Melina was not doing that.
She took another step back, stumbling. Her hand flew out to her sides trying to catch her balance. When it returned she looked back up at Ana, tears still quietly flowing. “Right,” Melina sniffed and quickly wiped away the tears with the back of her hand, embarrassed. “Right… Right I’m sorry.” She swallowed, finally meeting Ana’s eye. “Now that… That misunderstanding is cleared.” She could only hope that Ana could find it in her heart to forgive her and put it past them.
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Sept 21, 2020 20:39:20 GMT
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Did I do something wrong?
Melina didn’t remember Ana like this. She had tears in her eyes and she was stepping closer to Melina. She hadn’t meant to offend her or to hurt her feelings. Melina was… she was stupid! She was so stupid! How could she? Melina came to apologize and instead she was questioning Ana! Why would she do that?
Because she forgot me…
But what if she didn’t? She called her Lady Melina. Clearly she must remember. It took her a second, but the memory was there. Ana didn’t break her promise. But what if she did? No, stop this. This wasn’t helping her. Melina was the bad person here. Melina should feel horrible for what she had done. And instead, she twisted it on Ana, who was innocent in the whole affair!
Is she?
Melina took a step back and her guilty gaze fell to the floor. Everything was blurry. Suddenly the tears finally slid. Drip, drip. They went down the length of her face and onto the floor. Melina should cry. She should feel awful. She deserved this. She absolutely did.
“I’m sorry…” Melina said quietly as she bit her quivering lip. “I hadn’t… I hadn’t meant to upset you. Or… Or to abandon you. I just thought you… forgotten.” But she didn’t. But then why did it take her so long? Why did she act like Melina had gotten the wrong Ana?
Why was everything so confusing? Melina was used to having no self esteem. She was used to finding her failures. But what she wasn’t used to was feeling so weak. She was crying in public in front of a commoner… whom she kissed. When did Melina get like this? If her father knew what she was doing it would be her end. Melina should run away. She should forget this ever happened. She should try to avoid Ana for the rest of her life and use this as a lesson to be kinder to people. Melina should let this guilt make her into a better person. One without… Ana. Right?
I don’t even want her. That was the worst part. Melina thought she was kind, and beautiful, but Melina didn’t desire Ana. She was lost in the moment and when the moment was over, that was it. But she didn’t wish her ill. She wanted her to be happy. And Melina was not doing that.
She took another step back, stumbling. Her hand flew out to her sides trying to catch her balance. When it returned she looked back up at Ana, tears still quietly flowing. “Right,” Melina sniffed and quickly wiped away the tears with the back of her hand, embarrassed. “Right… Right I’m sorry.” She swallowed, finally meeting Ana’s eye. “Now that… That misunderstanding is cleared.” She could only hope that Ana could find it in her heart to forgive her and put it past them.
Did I do something wrong?
Melina didn’t remember Ana like this. She had tears in her eyes and she was stepping closer to Melina. She hadn’t meant to offend her or to hurt her feelings. Melina was… she was stupid! She was so stupid! How could she? Melina came to apologize and instead she was questioning Ana! Why would she do that?
Because she forgot me…
But what if she didn’t? She called her Lady Melina. Clearly she must remember. It took her a second, but the memory was there. Ana didn’t break her promise. But what if she did? No, stop this. This wasn’t helping her. Melina was the bad person here. Melina should feel horrible for what she had done. And instead, she twisted it on Ana, who was innocent in the whole affair!
Is she?
Melina took a step back and her guilty gaze fell to the floor. Everything was blurry. Suddenly the tears finally slid. Drip, drip. They went down the length of her face and onto the floor. Melina should cry. She should feel awful. She deserved this. She absolutely did.
“I’m sorry…” Melina said quietly as she bit her quivering lip. “I hadn’t… I hadn’t meant to upset you. Or… Or to abandon you. I just thought you… forgotten.” But she didn’t. But then why did it take her so long? Why did she act like Melina had gotten the wrong Ana?
Why was everything so confusing? Melina was used to having no self esteem. She was used to finding her failures. But what she wasn’t used to was feeling so weak. She was crying in public in front of a commoner… whom she kissed. When did Melina get like this? If her father knew what she was doing it would be her end. Melina should run away. She should forget this ever happened. She should try to avoid Ana for the rest of her life and use this as a lesson to be kinder to people. Melina should let this guilt make her into a better person. One without… Ana. Right?
I don’t even want her. That was the worst part. Melina thought she was kind, and beautiful, but Melina didn’t desire Ana. She was lost in the moment and when the moment was over, that was it. But she didn’t wish her ill. She wanted her to be happy. And Melina was not doing that.
She took another step back, stumbling. Her hand flew out to her sides trying to catch her balance. When it returned she looked back up at Ana, tears still quietly flowing. “Right,” Melina sniffed and quickly wiped away the tears with the back of her hand, embarrassed. “Right… Right I’m sorry.” She swallowed, finally meeting Ana’s eye. “Now that… That misunderstanding is cleared.” She could only hope that Ana could find it in her heart to forgive her and put it past them.
Tears were such bothersome thing. They stained her cheeks and made them puffy and red. They turned the beautiful into flawed, ugly things regardless of the feelings that instigated them. But, they served a purpose, too. Anastasia felt the noose loosen around her neck, given reprieve from Melina's little interrogation. But, instead of being rid of the issue altogether and Melina walking away, the girl began to cry, too.
Anastasia felt the stinging down her cheeks, the two droplets falling to the ground before she reached to brush the streaks away from her features. There were no follow up tears, but still they stung. She had to stop herself from narrowing her gaze, from showing the measure of contempt that threatened to surface within her. She preferred compassion and sympathy to manipulation and deflection. But, Melina asked for it. She pushed too far, forced her into a corner that she broke through.
By any means necessary. Even if it meant stepping on the girl's heart, she suspected the royal would be strong, put up a brave face and get the fuck out.
This dreariness isn't worth the drunken kisses on the beach, she thought. Oh, she remembered now. Melina of Leventi would ensure her place in Ana's thoughts for at least a little while longer.
It was so very rare, that she ran into awkwardness like this. The bard was a traveler, and her dalliances were often left and forgotten about, far away where the world stopped caring about them. But, this? This was a reminder, an interrogation... It was a sore on an otherwise productive day of performance and adventure.
When Melina took her step backward, Anastasia offered her most sympathetic expression, pursing her lips as her eyes glossed over a second time.
"No, no, my lady. I'm sorry to have misled you. I was... hurt. I wanted you to go away. It hurts, but... we can find forgiveness in this, can't we?" she said, stepping forward again. She took hold of Melina's hand, clasping it in both of hers before she raised it to her lips in a simple gesture of fake affection.
"Now that it's cleared up... we can be friends?" she suggested, offering the other woman a shaky smile.
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Oct 21, 2020 0:04:20 GMT
Posted In Who Are You? on Oct 21, 2020 0:04:20 GMT
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Tears were such bothersome thing. They stained her cheeks and made them puffy and red. They turned the beautiful into flawed, ugly things regardless of the feelings that instigated them. But, they served a purpose, too. Anastasia felt the noose loosen around her neck, given reprieve from Melina's little interrogation. But, instead of being rid of the issue altogether and Melina walking away, the girl began to cry, too.
Anastasia felt the stinging down her cheeks, the two droplets falling to the ground before she reached to brush the streaks away from her features. There were no follow up tears, but still they stung. She had to stop herself from narrowing her gaze, from showing the measure of contempt that threatened to surface within her. She preferred compassion and sympathy to manipulation and deflection. But, Melina asked for it. She pushed too far, forced her into a corner that she broke through.
By any means necessary. Even if it meant stepping on the girl's heart, she suspected the royal would be strong, put up a brave face and get the fuck out.
This dreariness isn't worth the drunken kisses on the beach, she thought. Oh, she remembered now. Melina of Leventi would ensure her place in Ana's thoughts for at least a little while longer.
It was so very rare, that she ran into awkwardness like this. The bard was a traveler, and her dalliances were often left and forgotten about, far away where the world stopped caring about them. But, this? This was a reminder, an interrogation... It was a sore on an otherwise productive day of performance and adventure.
When Melina took her step backward, Anastasia offered her most sympathetic expression, pursing her lips as her eyes glossed over a second time.
"No, no, my lady. I'm sorry to have misled you. I was... hurt. I wanted you to go away. It hurts, but... we can find forgiveness in this, can't we?" she said, stepping forward again. She took hold of Melina's hand, clasping it in both of hers before she raised it to her lips in a simple gesture of fake affection.
"Now that it's cleared up... we can be friends?" she suggested, offering the other woman a shaky smile.
Tears were such bothersome thing. They stained her cheeks and made them puffy and red. They turned the beautiful into flawed, ugly things regardless of the feelings that instigated them. But, they served a purpose, too. Anastasia felt the noose loosen around her neck, given reprieve from Melina's little interrogation. But, instead of being rid of the issue altogether and Melina walking away, the girl began to cry, too.
Anastasia felt the stinging down her cheeks, the two droplets falling to the ground before she reached to brush the streaks away from her features. There were no follow up tears, but still they stung. She had to stop herself from narrowing her gaze, from showing the measure of contempt that threatened to surface within her. She preferred compassion and sympathy to manipulation and deflection. But, Melina asked for it. She pushed too far, forced her into a corner that she broke through.
By any means necessary. Even if it meant stepping on the girl's heart, she suspected the royal would be strong, put up a brave face and get the fuck out.
This dreariness isn't worth the drunken kisses on the beach, she thought. Oh, she remembered now. Melina of Leventi would ensure her place in Ana's thoughts for at least a little while longer.
It was so very rare, that she ran into awkwardness like this. The bard was a traveler, and her dalliances were often left and forgotten about, far away where the world stopped caring about them. But, this? This was a reminder, an interrogation... It was a sore on an otherwise productive day of performance and adventure.
When Melina took her step backward, Anastasia offered her most sympathetic expression, pursing her lips as her eyes glossed over a second time.
"No, no, my lady. I'm sorry to have misled you. I was... hurt. I wanted you to go away. It hurts, but... we can find forgiveness in this, can't we?" she said, stepping forward again. She took hold of Melina's hand, clasping it in both of hers before she raised it to her lips in a simple gesture of fake affection.
"Now that it's cleared up... we can be friends?" she suggested, offering the other woman a shaky smile.
Even when Melina was hurt, she didn’t want Ana to go away. But… Ana wanted her to go away. Ana wanted that. But yet the woman walked forward and held her hands. We can be friends? She asked with a shaky smile and eyes so innocent that Melina’s heart ached more.
They’re cold. The hands. They were cold. This whole situation felt… cold. She didn’t much think she could be friends with Ana. Melina had messed that up. Melina had hurt Ana. And while they would be friends, she would think about how she hurt Ana.
Melina wasn’t good at being friends anyhow. That was why she could only claim to be Xan and Dorothea’s friend. Melina would only be a thorn in Ana’s side. She’d drag her down and Ana would truly wish that she never met Melina. Melina didn’t want her to think that. She had done enough harm.
They’re really cold. She thought again. Her hands were like ice. It was odd. The woman was so warm. Her smile was inviting, her eyes alluring, but her hands were so freezing. It was out of place. This whole… situation was out of place. And why did Melina still have tears? Ana was willing to put this aside. She was willing to be her friend. Yet the tears still tumbled. One after another after another. Melina was… dumb. She was so, so dumb. She was supposed to be the smart daughter, that was the one thing she had, and yet Melina was… so stupid.
They’re. Really. Cold. Melina finally snapped out of her stupor and pulled her hands away like Ana had suddenly burned her. She took another step back, putting distance between the two of them again. “I don’t think we should,” Melina said quietly. She brought her hand to her face and brushed her tears. Melina shouldn’t be like this. She was a noblewoman not… not a commoner. Though am I? Melina certainly didn’t act properly. I am Nobody.
A quote from her favorite epic, one that resonated with her to the core. Even in front of Ana, a woman who bore no title, just a woman with a talent for words, Melina felt like she was nothing. So, like nothing, she should disappear. She should not exist. She would bother Ana no longer. She had wanted her away, and Melina would give her what she desired.
“I… I’m sorry.” Was all more Melina could stumble out before she turned on her heel and ran from Ana as fast as she could, away from the scene and her utter humiliation. Melina just wanted to lock herself away from the world. That way she wouldn’t have to feel the pain. It’s not like she would be remembered.
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Oct 26, 2020 1:06:37 GMT
Posted In Who Are You? on Oct 26, 2020 1:06:37 GMT
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Even when Melina was hurt, she didn’t want Ana to go away. But… Ana wanted her to go away. Ana wanted that. But yet the woman walked forward and held her hands. We can be friends? She asked with a shaky smile and eyes so innocent that Melina’s heart ached more.
They’re cold. The hands. They were cold. This whole situation felt… cold. She didn’t much think she could be friends with Ana. Melina had messed that up. Melina had hurt Ana. And while they would be friends, she would think about how she hurt Ana.
Melina wasn’t good at being friends anyhow. That was why she could only claim to be Xan and Dorothea’s friend. Melina would only be a thorn in Ana’s side. She’d drag her down and Ana would truly wish that she never met Melina. Melina didn’t want her to think that. She had done enough harm.
They’re really cold. She thought again. Her hands were like ice. It was odd. The woman was so warm. Her smile was inviting, her eyes alluring, but her hands were so freezing. It was out of place. This whole… situation was out of place. And why did Melina still have tears? Ana was willing to put this aside. She was willing to be her friend. Yet the tears still tumbled. One after another after another. Melina was… dumb. She was so, so dumb. She was supposed to be the smart daughter, that was the one thing she had, and yet Melina was… so stupid.
They’re. Really. Cold. Melina finally snapped out of her stupor and pulled her hands away like Ana had suddenly burned her. She took another step back, putting distance between the two of them again. “I don’t think we should,” Melina said quietly. She brought her hand to her face and brushed her tears. Melina shouldn’t be like this. She was a noblewoman not… not a commoner. Though am I? Melina certainly didn’t act properly. I am Nobody.
A quote from her favorite epic, one that resonated with her to the core. Even in front of Ana, a woman who bore no title, just a woman with a talent for words, Melina felt like she was nothing. So, like nothing, she should disappear. She should not exist. She would bother Ana no longer. She had wanted her away, and Melina would give her what she desired.
“I… I’m sorry.” Was all more Melina could stumble out before she turned on her heel and ran from Ana as fast as she could, away from the scene and her utter humiliation. Melina just wanted to lock herself away from the world. That way she wouldn’t have to feel the pain. It’s not like she would be remembered.
Even when Melina was hurt, she didn’t want Ana to go away. But… Ana wanted her to go away. Ana wanted that. But yet the woman walked forward and held her hands. We can be friends? She asked with a shaky smile and eyes so innocent that Melina’s heart ached more.
They’re cold. The hands. They were cold. This whole situation felt… cold. She didn’t much think she could be friends with Ana. Melina had messed that up. Melina had hurt Ana. And while they would be friends, she would think about how she hurt Ana.
Melina wasn’t good at being friends anyhow. That was why she could only claim to be Xan and Dorothea’s friend. Melina would only be a thorn in Ana’s side. She’d drag her down and Ana would truly wish that she never met Melina. Melina didn’t want her to think that. She had done enough harm.
They’re really cold. She thought again. Her hands were like ice. It was odd. The woman was so warm. Her smile was inviting, her eyes alluring, but her hands were so freezing. It was out of place. This whole… situation was out of place. And why did Melina still have tears? Ana was willing to put this aside. She was willing to be her friend. Yet the tears still tumbled. One after another after another. Melina was… dumb. She was so, so dumb. She was supposed to be the smart daughter, that was the one thing she had, and yet Melina was… so stupid.
They’re. Really. Cold. Melina finally snapped out of her stupor and pulled her hands away like Ana had suddenly burned her. She took another step back, putting distance between the two of them again. “I don’t think we should,” Melina said quietly. She brought her hand to her face and brushed her tears. Melina shouldn’t be like this. She was a noblewoman not… not a commoner. Though am I? Melina certainly didn’t act properly. I am Nobody.
A quote from her favorite epic, one that resonated with her to the core. Even in front of Ana, a woman who bore no title, just a woman with a talent for words, Melina felt like she was nothing. So, like nothing, she should disappear. She should not exist. She would bother Ana no longer. She had wanted her away, and Melina would give her what she desired.
“I… I’m sorry.” Was all more Melina could stumble out before she turned on her heel and ran from Ana as fast as she could, away from the scene and her utter humiliation. Melina just wanted to lock herself away from the world. That way she wouldn’t have to feel the pain. It’s not like she would be remembered.
It was a rather pleasant day. A few clouds hung fat and lazy in the velvety blue sky, the sun shining down on Dafni with such warmth and love it was like the heavens were praying to her and her immense unquestionable beauty. It would only be fitting really, for the gods to worship the ground she walked on and the goddesses to be thrown into jealous fits upon setting their eyes on her. She was a stunning young woman in her prime with long gorgeous hair that hung in soft waves down her luxuriously clothed back. Her eyes were as the most precious of emeralds made flesh and inserted into a face more breathtaking than any statue of the famed beauties long passed.
But Dafni was rudely removed from the rabbit hole of self obsession her brain was currently running down as she laid eyes upon a scene that would soon become the key stone moment in her newest obsession. At first, as her eyes stuck and held on the occurrence that was happening before her, her brain did not register the implications. One woman, exotic and beautiful and obviously common, held the hands of a figure that was so familiar as to immediately raise Dafni’s hackles. For a moment the two women stood there frozen, the exotic one with beseeching but insincere eyes, and the other with a stiff unsure posture. But not moments later the other woman tore her hands from the commoners and fled with tear stained cheeks. It was only then that the rage in Dafni could find its outlet.
For precious seconds she had not recognized that the fact she became so engrossed in the trivial going on's of those around her was because one of those people was her Melina. Turned away from her as she had been, Dafni had not laid eyes on her face until she’d fled; her unconscious having somehow recognized Melina and knowing that it was important to pay attention. And as this fact came to light, all the unconscious observations became conscious, a picture was being painted with crude seething stroked for her mind to digest.
Melina was holding the hands of this woman. Melina ran away with tears in her muddy brown eyes. And if the whispers from the few busy bodies that were looking on speculatively, this woman's name was Anastasia of the Sirens Song, from lands afar, the precocious and immensely talented performer.
A sneer overtook Dafni’s plush pretty lips. Anastasia of the Sirens Song… let see how much you like to perform from the bottom of the sea.
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Nov 3, 2020 21:59:02 GMT
Posted In Who Are You? on Nov 3, 2020 21:59:02 GMT
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Check out their information page here.
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It was a rather pleasant day. A few clouds hung fat and lazy in the velvety blue sky, the sun shining down on Dafni with such warmth and love it was like the heavens were praying to her and her immense unquestionable beauty. It would only be fitting really, for the gods to worship the ground she walked on and the goddesses to be thrown into jealous fits upon setting their eyes on her. She was a stunning young woman in her prime with long gorgeous hair that hung in soft waves down her luxuriously clothed back. Her eyes were as the most precious of emeralds made flesh and inserted into a face more breathtaking than any statue of the famed beauties long passed.
But Dafni was rudely removed from the rabbit hole of self obsession her brain was currently running down as she laid eyes upon a scene that would soon become the key stone moment in her newest obsession. At first, as her eyes stuck and held on the occurrence that was happening before her, her brain did not register the implications. One woman, exotic and beautiful and obviously common, held the hands of a figure that was so familiar as to immediately raise Dafni’s hackles. For a moment the two women stood there frozen, the exotic one with beseeching but insincere eyes, and the other with a stiff unsure posture. But not moments later the other woman tore her hands from the commoners and fled with tear stained cheeks. It was only then that the rage in Dafni could find its outlet.
For precious seconds she had not recognized that the fact she became so engrossed in the trivial going on's of those around her was because one of those people was her Melina. Turned away from her as she had been, Dafni had not laid eyes on her face until she’d fled; her unconscious having somehow recognized Melina and knowing that it was important to pay attention. And as this fact came to light, all the unconscious observations became conscious, a picture was being painted with crude seething stroked for her mind to digest.
Melina was holding the hands of this woman. Melina ran away with tears in her muddy brown eyes. And if the whispers from the few busy bodies that were looking on speculatively, this woman's name was Anastasia of the Sirens Song, from lands afar, the precocious and immensely talented performer.
A sneer overtook Dafni’s plush pretty lips. Anastasia of the Sirens Song… let see how much you like to perform from the bottom of the sea.
It was a rather pleasant day. A few clouds hung fat and lazy in the velvety blue sky, the sun shining down on Dafni with such warmth and love it was like the heavens were praying to her and her immense unquestionable beauty. It would only be fitting really, for the gods to worship the ground she walked on and the goddesses to be thrown into jealous fits upon setting their eyes on her. She was a stunning young woman in her prime with long gorgeous hair that hung in soft waves down her luxuriously clothed back. Her eyes were as the most precious of emeralds made flesh and inserted into a face more breathtaking than any statue of the famed beauties long passed.
But Dafni was rudely removed from the rabbit hole of self obsession her brain was currently running down as she laid eyes upon a scene that would soon become the key stone moment in her newest obsession. At first, as her eyes stuck and held on the occurrence that was happening before her, her brain did not register the implications. One woman, exotic and beautiful and obviously common, held the hands of a figure that was so familiar as to immediately raise Dafni’s hackles. For a moment the two women stood there frozen, the exotic one with beseeching but insincere eyes, and the other with a stiff unsure posture. But not moments later the other woman tore her hands from the commoners and fled with tear stained cheeks. It was only then that the rage in Dafni could find its outlet.
For precious seconds she had not recognized that the fact she became so engrossed in the trivial going on's of those around her was because one of those people was her Melina. Turned away from her as she had been, Dafni had not laid eyes on her face until she’d fled; her unconscious having somehow recognized Melina and knowing that it was important to pay attention. And as this fact came to light, all the unconscious observations became conscious, a picture was being painted with crude seething stroked for her mind to digest.
Melina was holding the hands of this woman. Melina ran away with tears in her muddy brown eyes. And if the whispers from the few busy bodies that were looking on speculatively, this woman's name was Anastasia of the Sirens Song, from lands afar, the precocious and immensely talented performer.
A sneer overtook Dafni’s plush pretty lips. Anastasia of the Sirens Song… let see how much you like to perform from the bottom of the sea.