Sweetest {cassie}

[Talia Avedon]

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Cassie Eloise Enigma

280 Words

Music

Outfit

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Oh I try to rationalize [break]
"people are just People" but

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Talia tilted her head up towards the sun. She hadn't worn a hat or anything. When she was younger she did. She covered her face, her arms, everything. She was scared of getting even darker. So many of the fae were so effortlessly pale and willowy, and Talia wasn't. She simply wasn't. Her humanness showed through in those way. The fae were the embodiments of the land-- perfect. The word that came to mind was inhuman, but that was ridiculous. They weren't human. [break][break]

Her sleeves were loose, billowing around her arms. She still covered her scars. She didn't know if she was scared of being seen as weak or scared of being seen. Nikolai's response was exactly what she feared-- that she would worry someone. She wasn't used to it. It had never been something she was deemed worthy of. It was her own burden to bear and she had gotten quite good at bearing it. [break][break]

She was outside today to make her own paints. Maybe the lack of sun coverage was a test to herself. Testing if she could be more than the world saw. Testing if she could be more than her parents thought.  [break][break]

She hadn't done particularly well in school when it came to herbalism. It wasn't her specialty. But she knew which flowers were particularly pigmented, and she had ordered some. It was odd, that she could order them. That the gardener called her "ma'am." That she didn't have to scrape and save for the materials she needed, that they were always covered. She didn't mind it. She had time. She had space. It was amazing what she could make when she had room to breathe. [break][break]


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[Cassie Eloise Enigma]

    It was a beautiful day. The sun was out, the birds were chirping. Cassie hated it. It wasn’t that she loved the doom and gloom, it was just that there was something much more magical about the rain, or the fog. There was certainly something magical about the snow. She tried not to squint, but the light was too bright for her sensitive eyes. It had always been darker in The Undersea, both literally and, she realized, figuratively. The East Court was much different. With their springtime climate, she almost felt like leaving earlier than she’d planned, but her father had expected her to make visits to as many nobles of the Cardinal Courts as she was able. It didn’t matter that her father was dead. It didn’t matter that his death made Cassie’s position in the High Court waver. All that mattered was that she continued to smile and laugh and flirt and do everything the people expected her to do.
    Maybe that was why she had shown up to the sprawling mansion that was Princess Alita Hugh’s home. She’d heard stories from Court about the Princess’s nephew, the golden boy of the East Court. She’d also heard the stories from Court about the East Court’s king, which was why she was not bothering to make an appearance for him. Earlier that day, one of Cassie’s ladies had informed her that the Princess and the King were at an outing with their family, but she’d decided to tour the gardens anyway. The lodgings the East Court had provided were more than satisfactory, but one could only go so long without fresh air before they went stir-crazy. The gardens boasted flowers in all sorts of pretty pastel shades, their light, flowery petals blowing in the soft breeze. There were several different kinds of topiaries and hedges, too, trimmed in whimsical shapes and patterns. The gravel crunched beneath her feet as she turned a corner and came across a girl, about her age, crouched on the ground. Perfect, someone to talk to.
    “Good afternoon,” she began, giving the girl notice of her presence. Cassie examined her. Her skin was brown, much darker even than the skin of some faeries from the South Court. The tips of her ears were blunt, pointed like Cassie’s, but much rounder than hers. Her hair was like the plumage of a raven, dark black, but with a more purple sheen to it. Cassie’s own was dark black like this, only her father had passed down a redder sheen, which often clashed with her milky green-blue skin. So the girl must be mortal, in some way. But there was a look to her that only a faerie could have. Interesting. Half-fae were rare. “I’m Princess Cassandra Eloise Enigma. Do you happen to know if Princess Alita happens to be in today? I had requested an audience with her, but I’m not sure if she’s around.” Of course, Cassie knew that Princess Alita, was not, in fact, around. Nor was her brother or her nephew. But it would seem odd for her to be strolling around the gardens without any apparent purpose, and so, she had had to ask. “Are you the gardener? If so, I must commend you on your work.” There she went, ever the charmer. “If not, I must commend you on your choice to spend your time here.”

TAGS: Talia Avedon

★fai

It's like she's made of angel dust.

[Talia Avedon]

[nospaces]

[attr="class","tulip"]

[break]

Cassie Eloise Enigma

543 Words

Music

Outfit

[break][break]

Oh I try to rationalize [break]
"people are just People" but

[break]

Talia turned her head. Someone was addressing her. Giving her full title. Talia wondered a bit at that. It was only the really wealthy that used their full title. Only the really powerful who had the privilege of being able to give away information about their name in faerie without fear. She had always gone by Talia at most. Sometimes no name. Sometimes a smile and slipping into the shadows.[break][break]

She couldn't do that now. She was being addressed. Being addressed by a princess. Their country seemed to have an embarrassment of those, but it still meant something. It meant something to her, at least. She liked the position she had. She wanted to hold on to it. [break][break]

"I'm--" she paused. This girl must have thought she was the gardener or some sort of staff. She really didn't work with Princess Hugh at all. She had been hired by her. And she showed her the art she had done on occasion. But her favorite part of this job was that she was left alone. She wasn't bothered. She worked best uninterrupted, and then Nikolai had to come and throw stones into her still lake.  [break][break]

"I'm Princess Alita's head painter." She was also the only painter. One of few artisans. No one was really above her. Painting wasn't a fae art. Music, sculpting, yes. Painting? Portraits? It was too close to mortal photographs. She wished she could take photographs. Freeze or bottle moments. She didn't have that sort of power. Just quick sketches and bad memories transposed over to oil on canvas. A blurry remembrance. A thin veil of reality over pure imagination. "I don't work in the garden, but these flowers are good for paints." She looked down at her basket. All pastels. She wanted to do something in monochrome one day, but no color seemed to have the depth. Maybe if she could capture the blue in Nikolai's eyes, that color might. But she had never been able to do it. She was no photographer. [break][break]

She was altogether too mortal and not mortal enough for her own liking. The strangest phenomenon. Maybe it was her. Maybe she would just never be enough. Enough to remember or enough to treasure. It wasn't worth dwelling on now. Not when it couldn't be changed. [break][break]

She looked towards the castle. "I don't know where Princess Alita is." But she had seen that glimmer of blue today and pretended not to notice. Pretended not to see him. "I'm sure her nephew is here." But why was an Enigma here? Her mistress wasn't of enough consequence to be visited by a claimed member of the High Court. "Can I ask why an Enigma has decided to visit this part of the East Court?" She gathered that Nikolai's family mostly lived in the center court. That Alita wanted to be away from her brother and Nikolai wanted to be away from his father. Talia hadn't spoken to her father in a year and a half. Maybe this was more of the same. But hadn't this Enigma just lost her father? It seemed rude to pry. Fathers in faerie were as delicate as anything else. Familial bonds were a convenience at best.  [break][break]


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[Cassie Eloise Enigma]

    Cassie was impressed. The East Court must be recovering well, financially speaking, if their princess could afford to have something as frivolous as a painter. Not that it was odd for painters to be hired by the Cardinal Courts, but usually it was on commission. A painter would be hired to paint a portrait of the Ruling Family, or a noble family, someone important, to say the least. Then they’d do their job and get paid and it would done. It wasn’t a habitual thing, though. It wasn’t a job that warranted a title though. At least it explained the garden and the gathering of the highly pigmented plants. She’d read about the process of turning pigments into paints and dyes before, but it wasn’t one of the topics she’d so pursued. So the girl wasn’t a gardener, but she was something better— an artist.

    “Head Painter?” Cassie mused aloud. “They must do things differently here in the East Court.” The girl’s next statement affirmed the thought that she’d just had. “I see.” She crouched next to the girl, the pale pink tulle of her dress puffing up as she did so. She watched as the girl methodically plucked the flowers from their stems, choosing only the most pigmented specimens to put into her basket. From the colorful petals, she could identify sunflowers, roses, and lilacs. There were others too, but she wasn’t able to identify them. “What kinds of flowers do you use?” She asked. Absently, she wondered if the girl would be unnerved by her curiosity. It had never been out of the ordinary for her to ask lots of questions. Growing up in the palace, her tutors and nannies would always answer them, and the thirst for knowledge that was so deeply rooted in her younger brother, while less strong, had also grabbed a hold of her.

    She watched the girl as she explained where the Princess was. There was something so nonchalant about the way she brought up the Crown Prince. She wondered if there was something between them. The painter moved on to her next statement so casually, there was no way Cassie was being delusional by reading into it. She was always right about these things. “Oh, I’m not interested in the Prince.” Not anymore, at least. "He's not enough of a flirt for me." she grinned mischievously. If this girl had a thing for him, Nikolai would be hers, and Cassie was not going to come between them. She was not that kind of girl. “Besides, I think he’s out. Her Highness must be with him.” Cassie shrugged it off. “No matter. I think I’ve found something better to occupy my time.” She grinned at the girl. The pink tulle of her dress was getting dusty, rubbing so close to the pebbles of the garden’s path. She didn’t mind. It would come out.

    The next question she was asked didn’t surprise her. Everyone asked it, and she gave everyone the same answer. “I’m traveling throughout all of the Cardinal Courts. Taking a gap year, if you will. It was my father’s last wish for me before he was… killed.” She trailed off, trying to ignore the swirl of emotions she felt when thinking about her father’s death. It wasn’t that she was sad, exactly, but she felt guilty, felt that she should be. It was no doubt that her father didn’t love her, and she felt nothing for him. But he’d brought her back to land. She couldn’t decide if he’d yanked her from where she was meant to be, or if his decision to place her in the High Court was wise. “All my life I was raised to one day become an Emissary between the High Court and The Undersea. My mother was of The Undersea. I was raised there, I don’t know if you could tell.” She gestured to her blue-tinged skin. "My father thought I should familiarize myself with Faerie before I could officially rise to the position. But enough about me.” She waved her hand dismissively. “Tell me, what’s your name? What’s your story? What’s your process for making paints out of plants? I must say, you’ve intrigued me.” She had to stop the barrage of questions now, out of fear that she’d overwhelm the poor artist. She seemed quiet like she was unused to being around others.

TAGS: Talia Avedon
OUTFIT

★fai

It's like she's made of angel dust.

[Talia Avedon]

[nospaces]

[attr="class","tulip"]

[break]

Cassie Eloise Enigma

534 Words

Music

Outfit

[break][break]

Oh I try to rationalize [break]
"people are just People" but

[break]

Talia slit her eyes at the girl, trying to hold back all her thoughts and all her questions. It wasn't easy. She wondered at what it was like, to be a cursed princess. Not quite cursed yet, actually. But if things didn't go well for her brother, well-- challengers to the throne were rarely left alive.
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She wouldn't say that out loud. It was treasonous, and also it was rude. She doubted she would be executed, but when a reign was fragile, so was the justice system. And it wasn't worth risking it. [break][break]



"Depends on what I'm trying to make." She said instead, picking around the hard parts of the conversation as she picked at flower petals. "I should like to paint you, though." She said absently, trying to decide if she had enough periwinkle. "Some heirloom roses, a daisy..." They would be well on their way. She liked picking people apart into the pieces that made them up, the pigments in their skin, the way the light caught their eyes. Wanting to paint someone was a special compliment, exactly, as she wanted to paint everything, but it was true this girl was curious. Not haunted exactly. Or maybe haunting herself.
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Talia still flushed when she realized how much she had said aloud. Not the most damning pieces, maybe, but still embarrassing, and not in an embarrassment of riches sort of way. She daydreamed, she imagined, she saw the world in watercolors and potential. She got rudely pulled back to earth. [break][break]



She fought back raising an eyebrow at the girl's comment about Nikolai. Who was enough of a flirt, then? She was trying not to say too much or show much emotion, but it was him, and all she had was emotions. Certainly nothing definite. [break][break]



'Probably for the best,' she mused, and if that was out of kindness or her own selfish heart, she would not consider now. "His reputation aside, his ex-lover tried to drown a girl he seemed to favor more." She closed her eyes and the flash of colors came back, a whirl of reds and greens and the blue of her eyes. The oppressiveness of cold and a reminder that her father's bloodline didn't mean she couldn't die. Then she opened them to the startle of sun and a curious face. "Or so I've heard." she added, far too late. At least she was still breathing.
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"As undersea fae, I guess you might be safe from that, though." She didn't comment on her father. Didn't comment on his death or the way the flowers in her hands had wilted since. She didn't say any of it. [break][break]



It was a whirlwind of question. Or a tidal wave. No, enough about water. She blinked once, twice. "My name is Talia." she said, hesitating around her last name. Maybe this girl wouldn't know the Avalore line. Maybe she shouldn't risk it. "I'll show you how I make paints if you'll let me paint you." She smiled hesitantly. Faerie was a land of two faced deals, but this was a genuine offer. A rarity. A treasure.
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[Cassie Eloise Enigma]

    Cassie smiled, letting her mannerisms show that she was flattered. “Why thank you! I’d be honored to be one of your subjects. I’ve always wanted to be painted, but in the High Court, the bastard children usually never get commemorated.” It was true. Ambrose had had loads of portraits done of him. She remembered the days when she and Gemini would sneak up to wherever Ambrose was being painted and watch as he posed. Cassie would try to make him smile or laugh, but he’d always done a good job ignoring her. Gemini simply watched, his big gray eyes unreadable. It hurt a little bit, to think about the days when she was a child. She’d known, even then, that she was not like most children, let alone most royal children, but the days when she’d first come to the palace had been so much simpler than now. Her father had been murdered, her brother was challenging the murderer for the throne, and Cassie had long since decided she would abdicate. With everything that had happened recently, her decision only felt more justified.

    She delicately plucked a daisy from the bed and twirled it between her fingers. His ex-lover. Jin-hwa. Her brow furrowed slightly at the news. “His ex-lover?” She knew the two had never truly been exclusive. So why had Jinhwa felt the need to murder the poor girl in response? She couldn’t possibly be jealous. Cassie stored the information away for further use. There was something there that concerned her. She would have to talk with Jin-hwa about it.

    She turned her attention back to the girl and grinned demurely as she spoke of the Golden Prince, still with that casual tone, still with nearly no emotion showing on her face. Or so I’ve heard. “Care to elaborate?” she asked, just as casually as the other girl had said it, if not slightly mocking, for there was nothing casual about the question at all. It appeared the East Court was hiding quite a lot of drama. “Who’s side are you on? The ex-lover’s, or the girl’s?” She plucked one of the petals from the daisy, watching it flutter to the ground before she met Talia’s gaze, looking up at her through her lashes. “Or the prince’s?”

    “Talia.” she said, letting her mouth feel the shape of the name. It had sounded genuine, just like her offer, but Cassie would have accepted either way. “That’s a beautiful name.” It was also a mortal one, which would explain her ears. “I accept your offer.” There was no reason for her to decline, and no reason for her to accept. But by accepting the girl’s offer, she gave herself something to do. Not only that, but she got information out of it too.

TAGS: Talia Avedon
OUTFIT

★fai

It's like she's made of angel dust.

[Talia Avedon]

[nospaces]

[attr="class","tulip"]

[break]

Cassie Eloise Enigma

564 Words

Music

Outfit

[break][break]

Oh I try to rationalize [break]
"people are just People" but

[break]

Somehow, the compliments felt almost like a threat. There was something moving under the surface, some sort of current threatening her. She was tangled up in Nikolai and whether or or not she wanted to, she would face the consequences of that at some point. He had declared for her and now she was here, caught up in golden ribbons and lace, but caught all the same. [break][break]


”The honor is mine,” she said carefully. The concept of bastardy didn’t matter much to the common fae. Talia was a bastard. So was every one of her siblings, her father, most people she knew. Marriage really didn’t matter to them. It mattered to a king. It mattered to his heirs. [break][break]


”I find that hard to believe,” she said, picking the leaves off of the rose she had been dismantling for the better part of this conversation. She should move on or put it in her basket. She didn’t. She kept pulling off leaves. ”I imagine that as second in line to the throne, you were quite important in court.” Were. The Enigma name was more of a death threat than anything at this point. But what did Talia know? Bastard or not, she was no lady. She never would be. She moved on to pulling off the thorns. [break][break]


Talia’s eyes snapped up. She could feel the intrigue prickling around her in the air, and she could feel that she had made a mistake just by the way the girl looked at her now. She didn’t want to think about what she would rather be painting. Suddenly, being in a garden felt like a mistake, even though it wasn’t even a garden. She was going to act sooner or later. Everything made her think of him. [break][break]


And she had to pretend it didn’t. She didn’t look at him in the hall. She didn’t paint him in her gallery anymore. No one commented on the fact that she had moved on from portraits almost exclusively to landscapes. Storms and meadows. Dark clouds threatening or bright sun. Wind whipping up the grass. Not one person to be found. Her landscapes were dreamy as ever, but always empty. Alone. [break][break]


This wouldn’t be a landscape. It would be a portrait. No gold hair or watercolor eyes. The rose was just a stem now. She dropped it. Later it would be crushed underfoot and more roses would grow. Stripped of its petals, leaves, and thorns, there was no use for it now. ”I am simply warning you, Princess.” she said, unsure on how to answer. Unsure on what she would even be able to say. ”I find any act of violence abhorrent.”  [break][break]


But did she? That was the thing about her landscapes. They were empty and they threatened violence. The seas were covered in storm clouds and the meadows were plagued by tornados. Even in bright sunlight, not a drop of water could be found. It wasn’t just that her landscapes were empty. It was that everything in them had died. It was that they were barren. [break][break]


There would be no violence in this portrait. This would be a state picture, perhaps, or some idealistic image of a kind princess. If undersea blood ran in her veins, if she was exactly the sort of girl that had tried to kill Talia, well, her art wouldn’t show that. Every artist had some secrets. [break][break]

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[Cassie Eloise Enigma]

    “Hmm.” Cassie considered this for a moment. She wouldn’t say that she was truly important or powerful, as she had no land to her name. There was nothing in the Court that ever belonged to her, she was only there because her father had commanded her to do so, and she was only allowed the luxuries of the High Court because, again, her father had decreed that it was okay. But without her father’s word, would Cassie have ever been able to achieve the status she’d been given? She was grateful for her life and its privileges, but it didn’t mean as much to her as it would have if the privileges had been earned of her own accord.

    “I regret my father for that sometimes. For not letting me have the chance to prove myself. He placed me in court and told everyone that I was important and that they should treat me as such. But it doesn’t matter how important the court thinks you are if your own family doesn’t see you as important.” Once Cassie had decided she didn’t want to be Queen after Ambrose, it seemed her value to her father and stepmother had decreased. They hadn’t kicked her out for it, because she could be useful to them in other areas, but her father had stopped seeing her as much as he used to, and her stepmother looked at her with slightly more contempt than was called for. “A daughter who’s second-in-line is very important. Until she announces that she doesn’t want to be Queen and is no longer second-in-line to the throne.”

    She watched Talia’s eyes flick up to hers, and it wasn’t, despite what the girl said, warning that she found in her gaze. “Right,” she responded. “I suppose it’s a good thing that I’m not a violent person then.” Her desire not to pick a side was curious, but Cassie would let it slide. She plastered a new smile across her face and stood up. “Tell me, do you have a studio where you paint everything? Is that where we’re going?” She dusted off her rosy skirts and looked up towards the house, trying to figure out why exactly Talia was regarding her in such a reserved manner. “I always have wanted to see an artist’s studio.” There was something delicate in the way Talia picked her words. Like she was treading on thin ice, dangerously close to drowning in the ice-cold water.

TAGS: Talia Avedon
OUTFIT

★fai

It's like she's made of angel dust.

[Talia Avedon]

[nospaces]

[attr="class","tulip"]

[break]

Cassie Eloise Enigma

543 Words

Music

Outfit

[break][break]

Oh I try to rationalize [break]
"people are just People" but

[break]

Talia was inclined to agree. "My family never considered my art important." If she looked back, she could see strawberry juice running over her fingers or flames chasing her and consuming her paintings. She was just one more child to her father. She was just another nuisance. Her art was just an expense, an insult. She wished she could say she never missed them.  [break][break]

Something clicked, in the way she smiled, in the way this girl moved and the way she smiled, like she was floating or like she was dancing. Talia's eyes widened and she took a step back. The rose stem crunched under her foot. Her basket tilted. 
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"I'm sorry," she said, righting her basket and grabbing a stray pink rose. Her finger started bleeding from the thorns. She set it back in the basket. It's petals were dotted with her blood. She should have wore gloves. She had to be handled with kid gloves.
[break][break]
She was steadying her breath. She was counting seconds. She was staring at the sun-speckled ground. She was trying not to think of water. The fountain burbled behind her. Her blood dripped down off her finger like rain onto the ground. The waves closed overhead.
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Talia was shaking. This girl was an Undersea Princess. This girl was the Undersea Ambassador. She had been raised underwater. She moved like a dancer. She moved like a murderess.
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"I'm sorry," she said again, distantly. "Yes, my studio is where I do all my paintings." She ignored her comment about not being violent. She curled her fingers in. She dug her nails into her palms. She wanted to believe she was safe. She was never safe anymore.
[break][break]
Talia turned abruptly and started to walk towards the sunroom, desperate to get out of the shade, desperate to get inside. Desperate to anchor herself to something real. She was praying they wouldn't meet Nikolai on the way. She didn't see how they could. She knew that if she saw his eyes she would start drowning in them all over again. 
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She knew these hallways like a heartbeat. She turned past ballrooms and servant's quarters, hoping this girl was still following her. Hoping and forgetting how to care. She stopped by the door to her studio. She pushed open the doors and forced herself to take another deep breath. It felt good to be here.
[break][break]
She slowed her steps, setting down her basket, turning around the room. Her finger had stopped bleeding. Her canvas were piled against the wall, sitting on easels, hung loosely. They covered every surface but the two glass windows in the back. Paint cloths were strewn across the floor. She did not have a stool. She had never posed a subject before. Her sketching book was laying on the floor, charcoal pencils rolling across the marble surface.
[break][break]
"Be careful where you step." she said. Open bottles of paint were everywhere. Similar baskets of flowers perched in windowsills and by the door. Small glass bowls for mixing were lined against a wall. The room itself was white, but everywhere was in streaming color. And over and over again, staining her cloths, sitting in bottles and bowls, reflected on the floor and dotted into paintings, was the same shade of blue.
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[Cassie Eloise Enigma]

    Cassie glanced sideways at Talia. If her art was not considered important, she thought, then she was not considered important either. On some level, she could relate to that. She was just one sibling in a line of succession that was always getting longer. Then she’d left the line, and nothing was quite ever the same anymore. She pushed up the sleeves of her dress, reaching for a stray petal. It was a pale blue, like the veins under her green-tinted skin. Maybe she could give it to Talia for the pigment that would be used to paint her skin. The sudden motion from the girl drew her eye, and she looked over at the fallen basket. Talia was looking at her with something akin to fear. She apologized, but Cassie shook her head. “Oh, don’t worry about it. Everyone has their clumsy moments.” She said gently, puzzled at the new emotion written over Talia’s features.

    What had she done? The girl apologized again and turned abruptly, walking towards what Cassie assumed was her studio. She followed Talia into the sunlight, her seafoam skin accented by the afternoon sun. There was a tremble in Talia’s hands, and the way she avoided her gaze made Cassie feel uneasy. Once they were inside, she followed Talia through the labyrinthine halls until they came to a room made of glass. It was chaotic. There were swaths of fabric on the floor, paint splatters everywhere, brushes and pencils rolling every which way. It was messy, but there was a homey feeling to the mess. It was nothing more than a room well-lived in. She gingerly made her way in, careful not to step into anything or knock anything over.

    “It’s beautiful in here.” She murmured. “Where would you like me to sit?” Talia was setting the basket down now, still acting in the same odd manner. What had caused the change? She hadn’t said anything offensive, had she? Was it the fact that she was of the Undersea? No, Talia had mentioned it before and seemed fine with it. Something about the heir’s ex-lover. Jin-hwa. Princess of the Undersea. But Jin-hwa wouldn’t drown someone, would she? And that didn’t explain why Talia was afraid of Cassie. But Talia had not seemed keen to answer any of her questions about the day the girl was drowned. Unless Talia had been the girl who’d been drowned, in which case, this girl had almost been killed by Cassie’s best friend.

    She watched Talia move around her room, preparing an easel, a canvas. How long would it take her to draw what she needed before she sent Cassie away? She stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, her fingers twisting in her skirts. She shouldn’t ask about it. She really shouldn’t. “You were the girl, weren’t you?” Well, now she’d ruined it all. “The one who was almost drowned?” There she was, with her big mouth. She really shouldn’t have brought it back up. It was too traumatic to talk about. But it was the only explanation for why her actions had so suddenly changed. It had to be. She studied the girl in front of her, waiting for a response. She was cradling her bloodied finger, picking out petals from the basket. They were bloodstained.

TAGS: Talia Avedon
OUTFIT

★fai

It's like she's made of angel dust.

[Talia Avedon]

[nospaces]

[attr="class","tulip"]

[break]

Cassie Eloise Enigma

825 Words

Music

Outfit

[break][break]

Oh I try to rationalize [break]
"people are just People" but

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Talia wasn't looking at Cassie anymore. She could hear her heartbeat. She was staring at her hand; at the basket she was still clutching. Red blood on sage green leaves. It was a fascinating combination. It evoked images of Monet's sunrise, of the glowing red sun against a whorl of blue, but this was instead Aphrodite's blood staining the roses red. This was strawberry leaves. This was the shock of red against the green of nature. She was born from the land, and to the land she would return. [break][break]

But Cassie wasn't. Talia was a painter, and she saw everything in paint pallets, and she should have seen it sooner, but she had been distracted. She saw it now. The tinge to her skin. The glitter in her hair. The look in her eyes. It wasn't as distinct as it had been with the princess, but everyone said the same thing: that the Undersea Fae were descended from monsters. [break][break]

It was you, wasn't it? Talia had to laugh at the way she said it. Like it was some sort of honor. She remembered the looks all the girls had given her. Some of the boys too. Like she had taken something from them. Like she was dirt underfoot. She was used to that look-- she had never deserved anything. There was a new intensity behind it when she stood next to Nikolai. Like it was rude enough of her to try to ascend, but she had reached too far. Like she had tried to climb Olympus and they were all waiting to shove her back down. She couldn't go much farther until she fell from grace. And in fact, she had fallen already. It wasn't the Princess that pushed her under. She had been doomed to fall from the start. 
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Her words dried in her throat. She didn't know how to answer. She was still staring at the flowers, and she couldn't make herself breathe. It didn't matter what she had been or had done, because it was all past tense now. She didn't know where she stood with Nikolai, exactly, but she did know that it was only a matter of time before she fell again. 
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She forced herself to look up, to meet Cassie's eyes. She forced herself to silence her fear and draw on the anger that had fueled her when she faced Nikolai. She had been so awfully angry with him then, but now she was mostly just tired. It didn't matter. She had to put up a facade or she would fall apart, and she couldn't let him be the thing that broke her when she didn't even interrupt his stride. She was a road bump and he was a force of nature. That wasn't fair at all, but hadn't he always been her natural disaster? 
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"It wasn't worth it," she said, and it was hard to mask her surprise that she could even say that. She had been thinking to herself, but lying out loud and lying to yourself were not the same. He didn't want me. Why was this all about him? She was sick of her sadness bleeding into everything. "And it's certainly not worth dwelling on." She was alive now and he considered saving her life a good enough excuse to walk out of it. Her mother had tried to warn her, and Talia didn't listen. She had learned anyway. 
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She couldn't make herself forget it, but she could make it into something beautiful. That was exactly what she intended to do. She could still see it all in her mind, the colors on the water, the faces around her, the world retreating away. The Mind of Andromeda, the moment Andromeda saw the creature reaching for her and knew she would never escape the monster before her. Glimmers of gold, the blue of the sky, the viewer knowing that Perseus was close but not there yet, the despair of the moment and hope yet to come. And what else? Red roses growing around her chains, their green leaves sprouting through the links.
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Talia set down her basket, grabbed a sketch pad from an easel, sat down on the cloth floor where she knew it was clean. She wanted to be looking up at Cassie. She could see it now, the crashing waves, the nereids, the servants of Poseidon, watching to be sure the sacrifice was fulfilled. She could see Andromeda's mother, weeping. Cassiope. She had brought this on her daughter with her posts of beauty. Cassandra. They were not so different. 
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"Pose naturally," she said, but she didn't really mean or expect it. Andromeda was drowned by jealous Nereids, the princesses of the sea. "As you would if you were mourning."  This girl would be another piece in the saga. All her personal tragedies were part of a tapestry, woven to rival Athena, sturdy in its creation and breathtaking in its vibrance. What was tragedy but another art form? 

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[Cassie Eloise Enigma]

    Cassie raised a skeptical brow. Talia seemed so dismissive of the things that were so obviously important. “What wasn’t worth it?” She had almost died. Cassie’s best friend, her sister, really, had almost killed her. How could she brush it off like it was nothing? No, she brushed it off like it had to be nothing, like it couldn't be more than nothing, like she thought the worst thing she could ever do was place importance or value on something. It was like she thought the worst thing she could do was place importance or value on herself. Her eyebrows furrowed, watching Talia as she moved to a spot in a better light. “You almost died,” she said casually. “And it’s not worth dwelling on.” She raised a skeptical brow at Talia, who was still standing over the basket with her bloodied finger. “You should probably bandage that finger before you get blood all over your canvas.” Her tone turned sarcastic. “But hey, maybe it isn’t worth dwelling on.”

    She allowed the conversation to move on from the topic of Talia’s drowning. She said it wasn’t worth dwelling on, but what she really meant was that she didn’t want to dwell on it. Cassie could understand. She’d felt the same way many times. As she tried to look like she was mourning, she realized she didn’t know what that looked like. Was Talia trying to paint her as an anguished princess, grieving the loss of her father? She had to see that that wasn’t the case. Cassie had never mourned her father. She had mourned the father he should have been. But that had been years ago, a quiet calm night, punctuated by a lover breathing as he slept while Cassie lay awake. That what-ifs had begun chasing her there, dogging on her heels for her attention. What if he’d never known of your existence? What if your mother didn’t have a say in your conception? What if neither of them care about you? What if, what if, what if. So it went on, even up to her father’s death. What if he was still alive? Would she be as self-aware as she was now?

    The questions plagued her, seeking answers no one had, answers they somehow expected Cassie to have. She would never know. But that didn’t mean she would ever stop wondering, even if she’d be forced to toughen up. There would still be nights where she lay awake, alone in her own bed, or with someone else, or in another’s bed. She would always wonder about the what-ifs. She’d never be so strong as to ignore them. Her father had made sure of it. Her life had been ruined before it had even begun. A small voice in her mind told her she was strong, and she could move on, and that she was not the sum of her parent’s actions. But who ever listened to the minority? Who listened to the odd girl out? “What does that look like?” she asked simply. “I have never mourned.” It wasn't a lie. Not really.

TAGS: Talia Avedon
OUTFIT

★fai

It's like she's made of angel dust.

[Talia Avedon]

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Cassie Eloise Enigma

496 Words

Music

Outfit

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Oh I try to rationalize [break]
"people are just People" but

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Talia did not lean into her sarcasm. She couldn’t. It was quite obviously bait, and taking it would get her nowhere.
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Most of her courtly manners were just ignoring subtle insults, and occasionally obvious ones as well. She was the artist, not the subject. She was the help, not the family. She was insignificant. Insignificance was the closest thing she had to safety so long as she lacked any real power. She had to wonder at this freshly irrelevant yet previously disinherited Princess. What good did being significant do her? Or was it just all she knew?
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“If I bled onto the canvas, I would work it into the art. Art requires us to be flexible.” She tilted her head, watching the sunlight glitter through the girl’s hair and mentally noting it. “Art requires us to be present.”



Art required her to notice the way the shadows fell in this room. Art required her to notice every way this girl’s face shifted. Art required her to notice which actions were forced and which were not. She knew Nikolai could tell. She had seen through him in an instant. It was all poor courtly manners and brilliant artistry.
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She had learned this young. She had been taught it by experience, the coldest and most honest teacher she knew. No one had told Talia how to be. No one had taught her how to behave. She had failed until she didn’t. She had forced herself to be present. And so she was now.



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“Your father is dead,” Talia noted, without judgment but certainly curious. “Your inheritance is gone. Many would say that is plenty to mourn for.” And yet. Having something to mourn for was not the same as mourning. Talia had plenty to celebrate, and half the time she couldn’t even force a smile.


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Did she envy this girl? She wanted to. She wanted to envy those who had everything she could not, who had been born wanted, who might have been able to run to Nikolai right now and know they deserved a place at the table. It was only the last that made her feel anything at all, though. Everything else was an old story, long dead, never set to rights. She had been denied nearly everything. There were too many people to be jealous of to be jealous of anything at all. “If you cannot mourn, then what do you know?”



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Talia knew mourning. Talia knew spring evenings. Talia knew summer afternoons. Talia knew overripe berries staining her fingers and those stains smeared on canvas. Talia knew the world in a whorl of color. Talia knew watching something come together from nothing. Talia knew beauty right at her fingertips. Talia knew never quite reaching it. “If you cannot manage mourning,” she said. “Try longing. They are nearly the same.” One was for the past and another for the future. One was for what would never be and another was for what might have been.



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