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It was a perfect summer day, but also a warm one. The Dimitrou home was full of cool spaces to lounge away the afternoon heat, but after a morning of resting and reading, Dorothea was itching to move. A long ride seemed unfair and it was too hot to do anything outside for long. It didn’t take her long to narrow down her list of options to a trip to the sea.
Within minutes, she was clothed and had slipped from their home towards the stables, first stopping in the kitchens for a snack to take along with her. It was a short ride with a shady spot for her horse to rest while she swam. It was near a cliff face, which meant a climb down for Dorothea, but she had taken that route so many times that each rock felt familiar to her. There were other ways to get to the shore, but they were longer and with fewer places to rest should it become too hot. This particular spot was lovely because there was a shallow creek that ran to the edge of the cliff and fell down in a small waterfall. Her horse could rest and drink as much as she pleased leaving Doro confident that she was not endangering either of them.
When the pair had reached the cliff, Dorothea dismounted and led her mare to the stream, patting her gently. “I’ll be back soon,” she said, not bothering to tie her up. She would be there upon Doro’s return; all of their horsestock was well trained. And this one was particularly tied to Dorothea. She would wait and rest.
Dorothea took her small satchel and slipped it around her back, securing it, before heading to the cliff side. There was one particular spot where she would start her descent, a large ledge just over the edge. From there, she could climb down the rocks and make her way to the shore. When she was younger, this place had felt like a secret escape – a private stretch of sand just for her. Of course, occasionally she might come across others who had wandered from the town, but not often enough to make her want to abandon her spot.
Several minutes later she had reached the bottom and made her way over to her area, there were some rocks where she could store her bag and outer layer of clothes. It was partially shaded by the cliff, which made it a desirable location to relax when she was done swimming. Dorothea shed her loose-fitting chiton, donning only her narrow breastband and underwear, perfect for swimming.
For the next hour or so, Dorothea released all thoughts and worries and surrendered herself to the water. It felt glorious to float, swim, and explore the underwater world around her. To her, this was absolute freedom. A way in which she could move her body and a space that felt like hers alone.
Finally, she grew hungry and left the sea for her beach, enjoying the cooling sensation as the water dropped down her. It was in that very moment that she realized she was not alone. Part of her was briefly embarassed by her state of undress and the wet garments that hung tight to her body, but she brushed the feeling away, focusing on the stranger in front of her.
“Oh, hello.”
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Jan 15, 2020 20:54:10 GMT
Posted In water's edge on Jan 15, 2020 20:54:10 GMT
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It was a perfect summer day, but also a warm one. The Dimitrou home was full of cool spaces to lounge away the afternoon heat, but after a morning of resting and reading, Dorothea was itching to move. A long ride seemed unfair and it was too hot to do anything outside for long. It didn’t take her long to narrow down her list of options to a trip to the sea.
Within minutes, she was clothed and had slipped from their home towards the stables, first stopping in the kitchens for a snack to take along with her. It was a short ride with a shady spot for her horse to rest while she swam. It was near a cliff face, which meant a climb down for Dorothea, but she had taken that route so many times that each rock felt familiar to her. There were other ways to get to the shore, but they were longer and with fewer places to rest should it become too hot. This particular spot was lovely because there was a shallow creek that ran to the edge of the cliff and fell down in a small waterfall. Her horse could rest and drink as much as she pleased leaving Doro confident that she was not endangering either of them.
When the pair had reached the cliff, Dorothea dismounted and led her mare to the stream, patting her gently. “I’ll be back soon,” she said, not bothering to tie her up. She would be there upon Doro’s return; all of their horsestock was well trained. And this one was particularly tied to Dorothea. She would wait and rest.
Dorothea took her small satchel and slipped it around her back, securing it, before heading to the cliff side. There was one particular spot where she would start her descent, a large ledge just over the edge. From there, she could climb down the rocks and make her way to the shore. When she was younger, this place had felt like a secret escape – a private stretch of sand just for her. Of course, occasionally she might come across others who had wandered from the town, but not often enough to make her want to abandon her spot.
Several minutes later she had reached the bottom and made her way over to her area, there were some rocks where she could store her bag and outer layer of clothes. It was partially shaded by the cliff, which made it a desirable location to relax when she was done swimming. Dorothea shed her loose-fitting chiton, donning only her narrow breastband and underwear, perfect for swimming.
For the next hour or so, Dorothea released all thoughts and worries and surrendered herself to the water. It felt glorious to float, swim, and explore the underwater world around her. To her, this was absolute freedom. A way in which she could move her body and a space that felt like hers alone.
Finally, she grew hungry and left the sea for her beach, enjoying the cooling sensation as the water dropped down her. It was in that very moment that she realized she was not alone. Part of her was briefly embarassed by her state of undress and the wet garments that hung tight to her body, but she brushed the feeling away, focusing on the stranger in front of her.
“Oh, hello.”
It was a perfect summer day, but also a warm one. The Dimitrou home was full of cool spaces to lounge away the afternoon heat, but after a morning of resting and reading, Dorothea was itching to move. A long ride seemed unfair and it was too hot to do anything outside for long. It didn’t take her long to narrow down her list of options to a trip to the sea.
Within minutes, she was clothed and had slipped from their home towards the stables, first stopping in the kitchens for a snack to take along with her. It was a short ride with a shady spot for her horse to rest while she swam. It was near a cliff face, which meant a climb down for Dorothea, but she had taken that route so many times that each rock felt familiar to her. There were other ways to get to the shore, but they were longer and with fewer places to rest should it become too hot. This particular spot was lovely because there was a shallow creek that ran to the edge of the cliff and fell down in a small waterfall. Her horse could rest and drink as much as she pleased leaving Doro confident that she was not endangering either of them.
When the pair had reached the cliff, Dorothea dismounted and led her mare to the stream, patting her gently. “I’ll be back soon,” she said, not bothering to tie her up. She would be there upon Doro’s return; all of their horsestock was well trained. And this one was particularly tied to Dorothea. She would wait and rest.
Dorothea took her small satchel and slipped it around her back, securing it, before heading to the cliff side. There was one particular spot where she would start her descent, a large ledge just over the edge. From there, she could climb down the rocks and make her way to the shore. When she was younger, this place had felt like a secret escape – a private stretch of sand just for her. Of course, occasionally she might come across others who had wandered from the town, but not often enough to make her want to abandon her spot.
Several minutes later she had reached the bottom and made her way over to her area, there were some rocks where she could store her bag and outer layer of clothes. It was partially shaded by the cliff, which made it a desirable location to relax when she was done swimming. Dorothea shed her loose-fitting chiton, donning only her narrow breastband and underwear, perfect for swimming.
For the next hour or so, Dorothea released all thoughts and worries and surrendered herself to the water. It felt glorious to float, swim, and explore the underwater world around her. To her, this was absolute freedom. A way in which she could move her body and a space that felt like hers alone.
Finally, she grew hungry and left the sea for her beach, enjoying the cooling sensation as the water dropped down her. It was in that very moment that she realized she was not alone. Part of her was briefly embarassed by her state of undress and the wet garments that hung tight to her body, but she brushed the feeling away, focusing on the stranger in front of her.
“Oh, hello.”
The life of a bard suited Anastasia just fine. She felt the exhiliration of sharing her fables, of seeing and feeling the eyes of so many upon her as she wove into reality the songs of the past. The Greeks held their myths in high regard, for so closely tied were the Gods into the everyday lives of their patronage that is was imperative that they were felt. Such Gods did not intercede visibly, their names sung from the lips of people like her so that the world never truly forgot who they were. Anastasia was no priestess, but she felt her love for the Gods deeply once she had secured her freedom from the life she left behind in Athenia.
The bard thought of the Gods as she made the climb up the cliff face, soaring higher and higher with ease. Her time in Colchis had honed her body into a fine tool, and her scarcely covered flesh was muscle honed for the honor of Hermes. Easily her fingertips clung to the jutting rocks, her feet gaining purchase and her ascent into the sky brought her closer to her goal. She'd heard the rumours of this view, but for the glory of the patron of athletes and the thieves she'd see it with her own eyes. Her breath was heavy once she made that ascent, but truly, she was in awe of what she saw. The wheel-city of Taengea, where it was rumoured that wine-god Dionysus lay his head, was truly a magnificent place. She relished in her place within it, spinning yarns and singing stories for all of the world to know.
She took a breath, raising her hands towards the sun, and for a moment she wondered if this was how the boy Icarus felt. He dared fly towards the sun, and plummeted to the earth for his hubris. Anastasia was not so keen to spit in the face of Apollo, but she drew as close as she could, smiling into the light of his chariot before she looked down. There, the domain of Poseidon glimmered before her, a bounty of cerulean that called out to the bard's sensibilities. Truly, the days that Anastasia could call her own and not the public's were a beautiful thing. They reminded her of the patrons she owed her life to, the blessed Gods she felt in every step guided her breath and kept her steps sure.
Hermes, the Messenger of the Gods. Boundaries are crossed by your permission. Thank you for freeing me, she offered in silent prayer.
Poseidon, the Lord of the Deep. By your mercy my voyages are sure. Protect me when I choose to leave this blessed place, she thought. A glimmer of melancholy drifted through her at the idea of leaving Taengea. So, she set that thought aside.
Dionysus, the Patron of the Vitner. By your blessing the wines we drink are sweet and the grapes that make them ripe. Thank you for your gifts.
Then, she raised her hands to the sky, blowing a kiss into the heavens as she thought on the chariot that carried yet another.
Apollo, the King in the Sky. By your light the arts are given inspiration. Thank you for your kindness.
Once Anastasia offered her prayers to the Gods that her life revolved around, she felt ease wash upon her. A grin caught upon her lips and she bent her knees. Trepidation was set to the winds as she considered the depths below, and like Icarus she too sought to fly. Anastasia's pace was in leaps, easily gaining purchase on the rocky terrain before she flung herself from the cliff. Her hands formed a wedge in front of her, and an arc formed from her body as she sailed through the sky. She cried out in joy before she pierced through Poseidon's depths, arcing her body upwards, wading her arms through the water and propelling herself with gentle kicks before she resurfaced several moments later.
When Ana rose from the depths and at last could touch the floor without being submerged she felt the chill of the deep course through her veins. She relished in it, raising her hands to pull her hair off to one shoulder just as the heat of Apollo's sun baked into her flesh. She waded through the waves, feeling the kiss of the Sea God on her back with every one that crashed on her. She pushed herself forward, letting wave after wave guide her to the shore. She'd left her things bundled up in the sands, and was glad to extend out the blanket she'd brought. Anastasia had no desire to dry her body, content to let Apollo's light do that task for her. She lost track of time as she lay in the sunlight, her eyes fallen shut as she drifted between the world of Morpheus, the God of Dreams and the physical plane. However, sleep did not come for her. Instead, she heard footsteps trudge through the sand and she sat up, curious to see who had joined her.
It seemed that eyes met at the same time, and Anastasia rested her palms on her blanket, content to bask in the beauty in front of her. She kept her gaze (relatively) pure, climbing up from the woman's legs to her abdomen before meeting her eyes once she spoke. Anastasia smiled and raised one hand to wiggle her fingers at the lovely lass.
"Oh, hello, indeed! Perhaps it was silly, but I believed myself to be alone," she mused aloud. Many of the common folk would be busy with work at this hour, or a woman the age of the lass in front of her would be tending to her home. Anastasia was compelled to wonder just who this woman was, so liberated to do as she pleased. Perhaps it was hypocritical to consider, given Ana's own copious freedoms, but nonetheless, she'd inquire.
"Would you join me? I've not much to give, but Dionysus' bounty is best enjoyed shared with another," she noted. A chuckle escaped her lips as she shifted her weight on her blanket to accommodate the woman if she chose to join her.
"I am Anastasia of the Siren's Song, my dear. Who, if I may be so bold, are you?"
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Jan 17, 2020 19:30:22 GMT
Posted In water's edge on Jan 17, 2020 19:30:22 GMT
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The life of a bard suited Anastasia just fine. She felt the exhiliration of sharing her fables, of seeing and feeling the eyes of so many upon her as she wove into reality the songs of the past. The Greeks held their myths in high regard, for so closely tied were the Gods into the everyday lives of their patronage that is was imperative that they were felt. Such Gods did not intercede visibly, their names sung from the lips of people like her so that the world never truly forgot who they were. Anastasia was no priestess, but she felt her love for the Gods deeply once she had secured her freedom from the life she left behind in Athenia.
The bard thought of the Gods as she made the climb up the cliff face, soaring higher and higher with ease. Her time in Colchis had honed her body into a fine tool, and her scarcely covered flesh was muscle honed for the honor of Hermes. Easily her fingertips clung to the jutting rocks, her feet gaining purchase and her ascent into the sky brought her closer to her goal. She'd heard the rumours of this view, but for the glory of the patron of athletes and the thieves she'd see it with her own eyes. Her breath was heavy once she made that ascent, but truly, she was in awe of what she saw. The wheel-city of Taengea, where it was rumoured that wine-god Dionysus lay his head, was truly a magnificent place. She relished in her place within it, spinning yarns and singing stories for all of the world to know.
She took a breath, raising her hands towards the sun, and for a moment she wondered if this was how the boy Icarus felt. He dared fly towards the sun, and plummeted to the earth for his hubris. Anastasia was not so keen to spit in the face of Apollo, but she drew as close as she could, smiling into the light of his chariot before she looked down. There, the domain of Poseidon glimmered before her, a bounty of cerulean that called out to the bard's sensibilities. Truly, the days that Anastasia could call her own and not the public's were a beautiful thing. They reminded her of the patrons she owed her life to, the blessed Gods she felt in every step guided her breath and kept her steps sure.
Hermes, the Messenger of the Gods. Boundaries are crossed by your permission. Thank you for freeing me, she offered in silent prayer.
Poseidon, the Lord of the Deep. By your mercy my voyages are sure. Protect me when I choose to leave this blessed place, she thought. A glimmer of melancholy drifted through her at the idea of leaving Taengea. So, she set that thought aside.
Dionysus, the Patron of the Vitner. By your blessing the wines we drink are sweet and the grapes that make them ripe. Thank you for your gifts.
Then, she raised her hands to the sky, blowing a kiss into the heavens as she thought on the chariot that carried yet another.
Apollo, the King in the Sky. By your light the arts are given inspiration. Thank you for your kindness.
Once Anastasia offered her prayers to the Gods that her life revolved around, she felt ease wash upon her. A grin caught upon her lips and she bent her knees. Trepidation was set to the winds as she considered the depths below, and like Icarus she too sought to fly. Anastasia's pace was in leaps, easily gaining purchase on the rocky terrain before she flung herself from the cliff. Her hands formed a wedge in front of her, and an arc formed from her body as she sailed through the sky. She cried out in joy before she pierced through Poseidon's depths, arcing her body upwards, wading her arms through the water and propelling herself with gentle kicks before she resurfaced several moments later.
When Ana rose from the depths and at last could touch the floor without being submerged she felt the chill of the deep course through her veins. She relished in it, raising her hands to pull her hair off to one shoulder just as the heat of Apollo's sun baked into her flesh. She waded through the waves, feeling the kiss of the Sea God on her back with every one that crashed on her. She pushed herself forward, letting wave after wave guide her to the shore. She'd left her things bundled up in the sands, and was glad to extend out the blanket she'd brought. Anastasia had no desire to dry her body, content to let Apollo's light do that task for her. She lost track of time as she lay in the sunlight, her eyes fallen shut as she drifted between the world of Morpheus, the God of Dreams and the physical plane. However, sleep did not come for her. Instead, she heard footsteps trudge through the sand and she sat up, curious to see who had joined her.
It seemed that eyes met at the same time, and Anastasia rested her palms on her blanket, content to bask in the beauty in front of her. She kept her gaze (relatively) pure, climbing up from the woman's legs to her abdomen before meeting her eyes once she spoke. Anastasia smiled and raised one hand to wiggle her fingers at the lovely lass.
"Oh, hello, indeed! Perhaps it was silly, but I believed myself to be alone," she mused aloud. Many of the common folk would be busy with work at this hour, or a woman the age of the lass in front of her would be tending to her home. Anastasia was compelled to wonder just who this woman was, so liberated to do as she pleased. Perhaps it was hypocritical to consider, given Ana's own copious freedoms, but nonetheless, she'd inquire.
"Would you join me? I've not much to give, but Dionysus' bounty is best enjoyed shared with another," she noted. A chuckle escaped her lips as she shifted her weight on her blanket to accommodate the woman if she chose to join her.
"I am Anastasia of the Siren's Song, my dear. Who, if I may be so bold, are you?"
The life of a bard suited Anastasia just fine. She felt the exhiliration of sharing her fables, of seeing and feeling the eyes of so many upon her as she wove into reality the songs of the past. The Greeks held their myths in high regard, for so closely tied were the Gods into the everyday lives of their patronage that is was imperative that they were felt. Such Gods did not intercede visibly, their names sung from the lips of people like her so that the world never truly forgot who they were. Anastasia was no priestess, but she felt her love for the Gods deeply once she had secured her freedom from the life she left behind in Athenia.
The bard thought of the Gods as she made the climb up the cliff face, soaring higher and higher with ease. Her time in Colchis had honed her body into a fine tool, and her scarcely covered flesh was muscle honed for the honor of Hermes. Easily her fingertips clung to the jutting rocks, her feet gaining purchase and her ascent into the sky brought her closer to her goal. She'd heard the rumours of this view, but for the glory of the patron of athletes and the thieves she'd see it with her own eyes. Her breath was heavy once she made that ascent, but truly, she was in awe of what she saw. The wheel-city of Taengea, where it was rumoured that wine-god Dionysus lay his head, was truly a magnificent place. She relished in her place within it, spinning yarns and singing stories for all of the world to know.
She took a breath, raising her hands towards the sun, and for a moment she wondered if this was how the boy Icarus felt. He dared fly towards the sun, and plummeted to the earth for his hubris. Anastasia was not so keen to spit in the face of Apollo, but she drew as close as she could, smiling into the light of his chariot before she looked down. There, the domain of Poseidon glimmered before her, a bounty of cerulean that called out to the bard's sensibilities. Truly, the days that Anastasia could call her own and not the public's were a beautiful thing. They reminded her of the patrons she owed her life to, the blessed Gods she felt in every step guided her breath and kept her steps sure.
Hermes, the Messenger of the Gods. Boundaries are crossed by your permission. Thank you for freeing me, she offered in silent prayer.
Poseidon, the Lord of the Deep. By your mercy my voyages are sure. Protect me when I choose to leave this blessed place, she thought. A glimmer of melancholy drifted through her at the idea of leaving Taengea. So, she set that thought aside.
Dionysus, the Patron of the Vitner. By your blessing the wines we drink are sweet and the grapes that make them ripe. Thank you for your gifts.
Then, she raised her hands to the sky, blowing a kiss into the heavens as she thought on the chariot that carried yet another.
Apollo, the King in the Sky. By your light the arts are given inspiration. Thank you for your kindness.
Once Anastasia offered her prayers to the Gods that her life revolved around, she felt ease wash upon her. A grin caught upon her lips and she bent her knees. Trepidation was set to the winds as she considered the depths below, and like Icarus she too sought to fly. Anastasia's pace was in leaps, easily gaining purchase on the rocky terrain before she flung herself from the cliff. Her hands formed a wedge in front of her, and an arc formed from her body as she sailed through the sky. She cried out in joy before she pierced through Poseidon's depths, arcing her body upwards, wading her arms through the water and propelling herself with gentle kicks before she resurfaced several moments later.
When Ana rose from the depths and at last could touch the floor without being submerged she felt the chill of the deep course through her veins. She relished in it, raising her hands to pull her hair off to one shoulder just as the heat of Apollo's sun baked into her flesh. She waded through the waves, feeling the kiss of the Sea God on her back with every one that crashed on her. She pushed herself forward, letting wave after wave guide her to the shore. She'd left her things bundled up in the sands, and was glad to extend out the blanket she'd brought. Anastasia had no desire to dry her body, content to let Apollo's light do that task for her. She lost track of time as she lay in the sunlight, her eyes fallen shut as she drifted between the world of Morpheus, the God of Dreams and the physical plane. However, sleep did not come for her. Instead, she heard footsteps trudge through the sand and she sat up, curious to see who had joined her.
It seemed that eyes met at the same time, and Anastasia rested her palms on her blanket, content to bask in the beauty in front of her. She kept her gaze (relatively) pure, climbing up from the woman's legs to her abdomen before meeting her eyes once she spoke. Anastasia smiled and raised one hand to wiggle her fingers at the lovely lass.
"Oh, hello, indeed! Perhaps it was silly, but I believed myself to be alone," she mused aloud. Many of the common folk would be busy with work at this hour, or a woman the age of the lass in front of her would be tending to her home. Anastasia was compelled to wonder just who this woman was, so liberated to do as she pleased. Perhaps it was hypocritical to consider, given Ana's own copious freedoms, but nonetheless, she'd inquire.
"Would you join me? I've not much to give, but Dionysus' bounty is best enjoyed shared with another," she noted. A chuckle escaped her lips as she shifted her weight on her blanket to accommodate the woman if she chose to join her.
"I am Anastasia of the Siren's Song, my dear. Who, if I may be so bold, are you?"
Fall intents and purposes, this was Dorothea’s beach. She had seen a few wanderers on it over the years, but not many. It had always been her safe place of refuge, where she had gone to be alone. To think or simply enjoy the sea. It had been hers. Never once had she seen another person staking claim to it in such a manner as this woman. Not that Dorothea minded exactly. There was no indication that this beach belonged to her more than anyone else. It was simply that it was secluded enough to feel like nobody else would ever come there. Yet, here she was, proven wrong. Another woman was laying on the beach, looking for all the world like she owned it.
Dorothea tried not to stare too much at the woman laying in the sand. It was evident that she too had been swimming, not long before. Had Doro been so caught up in her own enjoyment that she missed another in the water with her? That seemed rather foolhardy. Again, another lesson that she must be aware at all times. However, there had been waves – it was possible to miss another small person swimming. It wasn’t as Doro had been making tremendous noise herself. She’d hardly uttered a human sound, only creating her own waves and splashes.
Quickly, their eyes met, though they both seemed to traversing the length of each other’s bodies. Dorothea felt a light blush reaching her cheeks, though she stood her ground, fighting the temptation to cross her arms over her body. This was just another woman after all. They were familiar enough with their own bodies. Though, she remembered a few not quite so innocent moments of her youth, when she had first realized that another woman’s body could be entirely unlike her own.
The woman’s waggle of her fingers indicated to Dorothea that the other woman was far more comfortable with the situation than she was at the moment. Quickly, Doro found her words, not wanting to appear weak in the moment.
“I did as well,” she replied. “I’ve rarely seen others at this beach aside from myself. It’s rather secluded.” Perhaps that was stating the obvious, but Dorothea was rather curious about how this woman had found this place. And why she was out wandering at this time of day, rather than working. Dorothea would have known if she was nobility and so was curious where she had come from. Surely a woman from the village would be working or home at this time of day.
At the invitation to join, Dorothea’s first instinct was to say no and be on her way, but a few things kept her lingering. If she returned home so soon, she would be subjected to the heat and boredom she wished to escape. And, perhaps most of all, she was curious where this woman had come from. However, she had brought her own blanket for such a purpose of lounging and wasn’t sure she trusted this woman enough to share one.
As she finally introduced herself, Dorothea realized a few things that began to explain the mystery. It seemed this woman – Anastasia of the Siren’s Song – was an entertainer of some sorts. It wasn’t often that Doro heard tales that were commonly told in places where commoners might enjoy them. She rarely ventured off her estates and when she did, it wasn’t to the parts where the common people lived. Although she was interested in their lives, it wasn’t something she had ever thought to do. It was seemingly unbecoming of a member of nobility to do so.
“I am Dorothea of Dimitrou,” she answered, deciding not to leave an omission of her name. It seemed as though it would be wrong to lie and as a Dimitrou she was generally unabashedly honest.
“Thank you for your invitation,” she replied, some of her poise coming back to her in the moment. “I must admit, I am unused to seeing anyone else here. You took me by surprise. I would love to hear more of how you came upon this beach.”
Rather than joining Anastasia on her blanket, Dorothea moved towards the rocks where her own things were hidden, retrieving her bag with her clothing. Moving back towards her new companion, Dorothea removed her own blanket and laid it to the side of Anastasia’s, with enough separation that they weren’t close, but not enough to be rude. She then sat and covered herself with a light cloth to keep warm and to display a little more modesty.
“Have you been to this spot before?” she asked, wondering if perhaps she simply had missed the woman before. That was well within the realm of possibility.
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Jan 27, 2020 16:13:31 GMT
Posted In water's edge on Jan 27, 2020 16:13:31 GMT
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Fall intents and purposes, this was Dorothea’s beach. She had seen a few wanderers on it over the years, but not many. It had always been her safe place of refuge, where she had gone to be alone. To think or simply enjoy the sea. It had been hers. Never once had she seen another person staking claim to it in such a manner as this woman. Not that Dorothea minded exactly. There was no indication that this beach belonged to her more than anyone else. It was simply that it was secluded enough to feel like nobody else would ever come there. Yet, here she was, proven wrong. Another woman was laying on the beach, looking for all the world like she owned it.
Dorothea tried not to stare too much at the woman laying in the sand. It was evident that she too had been swimming, not long before. Had Doro been so caught up in her own enjoyment that she missed another in the water with her? That seemed rather foolhardy. Again, another lesson that she must be aware at all times. However, there had been waves – it was possible to miss another small person swimming. It wasn’t as Doro had been making tremendous noise herself. She’d hardly uttered a human sound, only creating her own waves and splashes.
Quickly, their eyes met, though they both seemed to traversing the length of each other’s bodies. Dorothea felt a light blush reaching her cheeks, though she stood her ground, fighting the temptation to cross her arms over her body. This was just another woman after all. They were familiar enough with their own bodies. Though, she remembered a few not quite so innocent moments of her youth, when she had first realized that another woman’s body could be entirely unlike her own.
The woman’s waggle of her fingers indicated to Dorothea that the other woman was far more comfortable with the situation than she was at the moment. Quickly, Doro found her words, not wanting to appear weak in the moment.
“I did as well,” she replied. “I’ve rarely seen others at this beach aside from myself. It’s rather secluded.” Perhaps that was stating the obvious, but Dorothea was rather curious about how this woman had found this place. And why she was out wandering at this time of day, rather than working. Dorothea would have known if she was nobility and so was curious where she had come from. Surely a woman from the village would be working or home at this time of day.
At the invitation to join, Dorothea’s first instinct was to say no and be on her way, but a few things kept her lingering. If she returned home so soon, she would be subjected to the heat and boredom she wished to escape. And, perhaps most of all, she was curious where this woman had come from. However, she had brought her own blanket for such a purpose of lounging and wasn’t sure she trusted this woman enough to share one.
As she finally introduced herself, Dorothea realized a few things that began to explain the mystery. It seemed this woman – Anastasia of the Siren’s Song – was an entertainer of some sorts. It wasn’t often that Doro heard tales that were commonly told in places where commoners might enjoy them. She rarely ventured off her estates and when she did, it wasn’t to the parts where the common people lived. Although she was interested in their lives, it wasn’t something she had ever thought to do. It was seemingly unbecoming of a member of nobility to do so.
“I am Dorothea of Dimitrou,” she answered, deciding not to leave an omission of her name. It seemed as though it would be wrong to lie and as a Dimitrou she was generally unabashedly honest.
“Thank you for your invitation,” she replied, some of her poise coming back to her in the moment. “I must admit, I am unused to seeing anyone else here. You took me by surprise. I would love to hear more of how you came upon this beach.”
Rather than joining Anastasia on her blanket, Dorothea moved towards the rocks where her own things were hidden, retrieving her bag with her clothing. Moving back towards her new companion, Dorothea removed her own blanket and laid it to the side of Anastasia’s, with enough separation that they weren’t close, but not enough to be rude. She then sat and covered herself with a light cloth to keep warm and to display a little more modesty.
“Have you been to this spot before?” she asked, wondering if perhaps she simply had missed the woman before. That was well within the realm of possibility.
Fall intents and purposes, this was Dorothea’s beach. She had seen a few wanderers on it over the years, but not many. It had always been her safe place of refuge, where she had gone to be alone. To think or simply enjoy the sea. It had been hers. Never once had she seen another person staking claim to it in such a manner as this woman. Not that Dorothea minded exactly. There was no indication that this beach belonged to her more than anyone else. It was simply that it was secluded enough to feel like nobody else would ever come there. Yet, here she was, proven wrong. Another woman was laying on the beach, looking for all the world like she owned it.
Dorothea tried not to stare too much at the woman laying in the sand. It was evident that she too had been swimming, not long before. Had Doro been so caught up in her own enjoyment that she missed another in the water with her? That seemed rather foolhardy. Again, another lesson that she must be aware at all times. However, there had been waves – it was possible to miss another small person swimming. It wasn’t as Doro had been making tremendous noise herself. She’d hardly uttered a human sound, only creating her own waves and splashes.
Quickly, their eyes met, though they both seemed to traversing the length of each other’s bodies. Dorothea felt a light blush reaching her cheeks, though she stood her ground, fighting the temptation to cross her arms over her body. This was just another woman after all. They were familiar enough with their own bodies. Though, she remembered a few not quite so innocent moments of her youth, when she had first realized that another woman’s body could be entirely unlike her own.
The woman’s waggle of her fingers indicated to Dorothea that the other woman was far more comfortable with the situation than she was at the moment. Quickly, Doro found her words, not wanting to appear weak in the moment.
“I did as well,” she replied. “I’ve rarely seen others at this beach aside from myself. It’s rather secluded.” Perhaps that was stating the obvious, but Dorothea was rather curious about how this woman had found this place. And why she was out wandering at this time of day, rather than working. Dorothea would have known if she was nobility and so was curious where she had come from. Surely a woman from the village would be working or home at this time of day.
At the invitation to join, Dorothea’s first instinct was to say no and be on her way, but a few things kept her lingering. If she returned home so soon, she would be subjected to the heat and boredom she wished to escape. And, perhaps most of all, she was curious where this woman had come from. However, she had brought her own blanket for such a purpose of lounging and wasn’t sure she trusted this woman enough to share one.
As she finally introduced herself, Dorothea realized a few things that began to explain the mystery. It seemed this woman – Anastasia of the Siren’s Song – was an entertainer of some sorts. It wasn’t often that Doro heard tales that were commonly told in places where commoners might enjoy them. She rarely ventured off her estates and when she did, it wasn’t to the parts where the common people lived. Although she was interested in their lives, it wasn’t something she had ever thought to do. It was seemingly unbecoming of a member of nobility to do so.
“I am Dorothea of Dimitrou,” she answered, deciding not to leave an omission of her name. It seemed as though it would be wrong to lie and as a Dimitrou she was generally unabashedly honest.
“Thank you for your invitation,” she replied, some of her poise coming back to her in the moment. “I must admit, I am unused to seeing anyone else here. You took me by surprise. I would love to hear more of how you came upon this beach.”
Rather than joining Anastasia on her blanket, Dorothea moved towards the rocks where her own things were hidden, retrieving her bag with her clothing. Moving back towards her new companion, Dorothea removed her own blanket and laid it to the side of Anastasia’s, with enough separation that they weren’t close, but not enough to be rude. She then sat and covered herself with a light cloth to keep warm and to display a little more modesty.
“Have you been to this spot before?” she asked, wondering if perhaps she simply had missed the woman before. That was well within the realm of possibility.
Eager exploration of the Taengean coast was well within the whimsy of Anastasia. While an extroverted woman by nature, it was these moments of quiet isolation that allowed one to rejuvenate and properly face the world with every kind of smile upon their faces. It was the illusion of authenticity, from the timbre of one's voice to the showance of content upon their countenance that brought the power of the crowd towards them. The bard Anastasia knew this more than most, and she'd been quite eager to thank the Gods for their continued patronage of her in the quiet isolation of this abandoned beach. But, it wasn't meant to be so quiet for long. Instead, the young lady was there, and where there was quiet, conversation arrived instead.
But, could Anastasia truly be upset by this turn of events? No, it seemed that the lovely woman was willing, if not keen, to join her. The beckoning of Ana's fingertips was heeded, and the other woman found herself quickly enough. It was quite intriguing to Anastasia, how others could find themselves so surprised, or so twisted in the tongue by the presence of another. Was the world so small to them, that they thought anywhere they could go was limited? Anastasia herself had been surprised, but the adaptability she prided herself in brought her to accept the turn of events, and she was growing more and more eager to accept the limited company offered.
Dorothea of Dimitrou, as she introduced herself, was a lovely enough young woman, enough so that her name didn't immediately garner the attention it deserved. Instead, Anastasia allowed one final look upon the length of the royal's form before she collected herself in poised intrigue. Those hazel eyes kept their hold on Dorothea's with each moment the woman speak, a grin coaxing about the bard's lips up until the moment the royal ceased her speaking and turned back towards her own things. A bottle of wine languished in the sand behind the bard, and she claimed it easily enough before popping off the top. She took a sip, and a single stream dribbled down her chin as she savoured in the taste of the Taengean tincture.
When Dorothea returned, Anastasia felt her smile diminish as the young royal placed herself adjacent, creating some distance between them. Perhaps the bard was too forward, or Dorothea was more reserved. Or perhaps, the invitation Ana gave bent over the notion of propriety too heavily. The bard hummed softly as she considered the other woman's questions, and the bard shifted her position so that she lay on her side. One elbow on her blanket held up her head as she kept her gaze trained inexorably upon Dorothea of Dimitrou.
"You're most welcome, of course, my lady," she began, openly acknowledging her awareness of the woman's status. She let a soft hum part her lips as she considered exactly how to answer her question and interest in her presence on the beach.
"It seems that you have? Perhaps many times over. I can't say that I've been here before, but I'd heard tell of the cliffs and the beach they were adjacent to. It's only fitting that a woman such as myself, with the privilege to linger in the middle of the day with little need to do anything in particular would use that time to pay homage to the Gods. Now that the homage has been paid, I must take it upon myself to enjoy the bounty of the sun and sea as any Gods-loving and fearing Greek should," she offered, a soft chuckle upon her lips as she mused.
"This place is not so well-known and yet... it is quite beautiful. Is it your little secret, Lady Dorothea?" she asked, a glint of mischief visible in the bard's eyes as she posed her questions.
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Mar 13, 2020 21:21:10 GMT
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Eager exploration of the Taengean coast was well within the whimsy of Anastasia. While an extroverted woman by nature, it was these moments of quiet isolation that allowed one to rejuvenate and properly face the world with every kind of smile upon their faces. It was the illusion of authenticity, from the timbre of one's voice to the showance of content upon their countenance that brought the power of the crowd towards them. The bard Anastasia knew this more than most, and she'd been quite eager to thank the Gods for their continued patronage of her in the quiet isolation of this abandoned beach. But, it wasn't meant to be so quiet for long. Instead, the young lady was there, and where there was quiet, conversation arrived instead.
But, could Anastasia truly be upset by this turn of events? No, it seemed that the lovely woman was willing, if not keen, to join her. The beckoning of Ana's fingertips was heeded, and the other woman found herself quickly enough. It was quite intriguing to Anastasia, how others could find themselves so surprised, or so twisted in the tongue by the presence of another. Was the world so small to them, that they thought anywhere they could go was limited? Anastasia herself had been surprised, but the adaptability she prided herself in brought her to accept the turn of events, and she was growing more and more eager to accept the limited company offered.
Dorothea of Dimitrou, as she introduced herself, was a lovely enough young woman, enough so that her name didn't immediately garner the attention it deserved. Instead, Anastasia allowed one final look upon the length of the royal's form before she collected herself in poised intrigue. Those hazel eyes kept their hold on Dorothea's with each moment the woman speak, a grin coaxing about the bard's lips up until the moment the royal ceased her speaking and turned back towards her own things. A bottle of wine languished in the sand behind the bard, and she claimed it easily enough before popping off the top. She took a sip, and a single stream dribbled down her chin as she savoured in the taste of the Taengean tincture.
When Dorothea returned, Anastasia felt her smile diminish as the young royal placed herself adjacent, creating some distance between them. Perhaps the bard was too forward, or Dorothea was more reserved. Or perhaps, the invitation Ana gave bent over the notion of propriety too heavily. The bard hummed softly as she considered the other woman's questions, and the bard shifted her position so that she lay on her side. One elbow on her blanket held up her head as she kept her gaze trained inexorably upon Dorothea of Dimitrou.
"You're most welcome, of course, my lady," she began, openly acknowledging her awareness of the woman's status. She let a soft hum part her lips as she considered exactly how to answer her question and interest in her presence on the beach.
"It seems that you have? Perhaps many times over. I can't say that I've been here before, but I'd heard tell of the cliffs and the beach they were adjacent to. It's only fitting that a woman such as myself, with the privilege to linger in the middle of the day with little need to do anything in particular would use that time to pay homage to the Gods. Now that the homage has been paid, I must take it upon myself to enjoy the bounty of the sun and sea as any Gods-loving and fearing Greek should," she offered, a soft chuckle upon her lips as she mused.
"This place is not so well-known and yet... it is quite beautiful. Is it your little secret, Lady Dorothea?" she asked, a glint of mischief visible in the bard's eyes as she posed her questions.
Eager exploration of the Taengean coast was well within the whimsy of Anastasia. While an extroverted woman by nature, it was these moments of quiet isolation that allowed one to rejuvenate and properly face the world with every kind of smile upon their faces. It was the illusion of authenticity, from the timbre of one's voice to the showance of content upon their countenance that brought the power of the crowd towards them. The bard Anastasia knew this more than most, and she'd been quite eager to thank the Gods for their continued patronage of her in the quiet isolation of this abandoned beach. But, it wasn't meant to be so quiet for long. Instead, the young lady was there, and where there was quiet, conversation arrived instead.
But, could Anastasia truly be upset by this turn of events? No, it seemed that the lovely woman was willing, if not keen, to join her. The beckoning of Ana's fingertips was heeded, and the other woman found herself quickly enough. It was quite intriguing to Anastasia, how others could find themselves so surprised, or so twisted in the tongue by the presence of another. Was the world so small to them, that they thought anywhere they could go was limited? Anastasia herself had been surprised, but the adaptability she prided herself in brought her to accept the turn of events, and she was growing more and more eager to accept the limited company offered.
Dorothea of Dimitrou, as she introduced herself, was a lovely enough young woman, enough so that her name didn't immediately garner the attention it deserved. Instead, Anastasia allowed one final look upon the length of the royal's form before she collected herself in poised intrigue. Those hazel eyes kept their hold on Dorothea's with each moment the woman speak, a grin coaxing about the bard's lips up until the moment the royal ceased her speaking and turned back towards her own things. A bottle of wine languished in the sand behind the bard, and she claimed it easily enough before popping off the top. She took a sip, and a single stream dribbled down her chin as she savoured in the taste of the Taengean tincture.
When Dorothea returned, Anastasia felt her smile diminish as the young royal placed herself adjacent, creating some distance between them. Perhaps the bard was too forward, or Dorothea was more reserved. Or perhaps, the invitation Ana gave bent over the notion of propriety too heavily. The bard hummed softly as she considered the other woman's questions, and the bard shifted her position so that she lay on her side. One elbow on her blanket held up her head as she kept her gaze trained inexorably upon Dorothea of Dimitrou.
"You're most welcome, of course, my lady," she began, openly acknowledging her awareness of the woman's status. She let a soft hum part her lips as she considered exactly how to answer her question and interest in her presence on the beach.
"It seems that you have? Perhaps many times over. I can't say that I've been here before, but I'd heard tell of the cliffs and the beach they were adjacent to. It's only fitting that a woman such as myself, with the privilege to linger in the middle of the day with little need to do anything in particular would use that time to pay homage to the Gods. Now that the homage has been paid, I must take it upon myself to enjoy the bounty of the sun and sea as any Gods-loving and fearing Greek should," she offered, a soft chuckle upon her lips as she mused.
"This place is not so well-known and yet... it is quite beautiful. Is it your little secret, Lady Dorothea?" she asked, a glint of mischief visible in the bard's eyes as she posed her questions.
This felt like quite an unusual situation for Dorothea. Not only had this other woman come across her in what she considered to be her own private beach, but she was looking at Dorothea in a way that only reminded her of one other woman. It had been a few years prior and a summer of firsts for Doro. There had been a girl from the village and the two of them had unexpectedly formed a close friendship. It had been more than just a friendship, she thought, trying not to blush at the memory. Dorothea had felt all the feelings she had heard about how some women felt for their husbands. She hadn’t known it was possible to feel them with another woman. Of course, she had only been seventeen at the time and after it was over, attributed it to her young age. After all, her friend had gotten married and Dorothea hadn’t seen her since.
Still, how this woman was looking at her reminded Dorothea so vividly of that summer in her youth. But perhaps this was just how bards looked, intending to draw people into to them. That was their job, after all. To make one feel so entranced by their stories that they kept asking for more. And of course paid for it as well. Without hearing her speak much more, Dorothea could tell that Anastasia was excellent at her work.
As Dorothea settled into her position on the beach, she watched as Anastasia drank from her bottle and considered her question. She was certainly alluring and Dorothea imagined that people paid handsomely to hear her stories. It wasn’t often that Dorothea was able to hear stories from a bard herself. They didn’t frequent the places that bards performed, though she was sure their tales were most interesting. Dorothea had a thirst to hear about places and people far from her home. She had read countless books on lands afar and one day hoped to visit them herself.
Anastasia answered her question with a question, drawing a smile to Dorothea’s lips. Oh yes, she was quite the storyteller indeed. Dorothea didn’t have such a way with words. She could be polite, but she was of an honest family. She could be blunt more often than not. Her words were not beautiful poems to listen to, not such as this woman’s were.
“Yes,” she answered simply. “I have been coming here for many years and have never known to see another on this beach. It’s quite the walk for most people, but I have scaled this cliff many times. My family lands rest not far from them.”
Of course, the woman hadn’t really answered her question, but Dorothea would let it rest for now. It seemed the bard wished to keep some things a secret. “I am happy to share my slice of paradise with you. I always thought it a shame that nobody else would see this place.”
“Are you enjoying your time in Taengea?” she asked, guessing that Anastasia wasn’t from her home. There was something different in her accent and besides, bards were known to travel.
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This felt like quite an unusual situation for Dorothea. Not only had this other woman come across her in what she considered to be her own private beach, but she was looking at Dorothea in a way that only reminded her of one other woman. It had been a few years prior and a summer of firsts for Doro. There had been a girl from the village and the two of them had unexpectedly formed a close friendship. It had been more than just a friendship, she thought, trying not to blush at the memory. Dorothea had felt all the feelings she had heard about how some women felt for their husbands. She hadn’t known it was possible to feel them with another woman. Of course, she had only been seventeen at the time and after it was over, attributed it to her young age. After all, her friend had gotten married and Dorothea hadn’t seen her since.
Still, how this woman was looking at her reminded Dorothea so vividly of that summer in her youth. But perhaps this was just how bards looked, intending to draw people into to them. That was their job, after all. To make one feel so entranced by their stories that they kept asking for more. And of course paid for it as well. Without hearing her speak much more, Dorothea could tell that Anastasia was excellent at her work.
As Dorothea settled into her position on the beach, she watched as Anastasia drank from her bottle and considered her question. She was certainly alluring and Dorothea imagined that people paid handsomely to hear her stories. It wasn’t often that Dorothea was able to hear stories from a bard herself. They didn’t frequent the places that bards performed, though she was sure their tales were most interesting. Dorothea had a thirst to hear about places and people far from her home. She had read countless books on lands afar and one day hoped to visit them herself.
Anastasia answered her question with a question, drawing a smile to Dorothea’s lips. Oh yes, she was quite the storyteller indeed. Dorothea didn’t have such a way with words. She could be polite, but she was of an honest family. She could be blunt more often than not. Her words were not beautiful poems to listen to, not such as this woman’s were.
“Yes,” she answered simply. “I have been coming here for many years and have never known to see another on this beach. It’s quite the walk for most people, but I have scaled this cliff many times. My family lands rest not far from them.”
Of course, the woman hadn’t really answered her question, but Dorothea would let it rest for now. It seemed the bard wished to keep some things a secret. “I am happy to share my slice of paradise with you. I always thought it a shame that nobody else would see this place.”
“Are you enjoying your time in Taengea?” she asked, guessing that Anastasia wasn’t from her home. There was something different in her accent and besides, bards were known to travel.
This felt like quite an unusual situation for Dorothea. Not only had this other woman come across her in what she considered to be her own private beach, but she was looking at Dorothea in a way that only reminded her of one other woman. It had been a few years prior and a summer of firsts for Doro. There had been a girl from the village and the two of them had unexpectedly formed a close friendship. It had been more than just a friendship, she thought, trying not to blush at the memory. Dorothea had felt all the feelings she had heard about how some women felt for their husbands. She hadn’t known it was possible to feel them with another woman. Of course, she had only been seventeen at the time and after it was over, attributed it to her young age. After all, her friend had gotten married and Dorothea hadn’t seen her since.
Still, how this woman was looking at her reminded Dorothea so vividly of that summer in her youth. But perhaps this was just how bards looked, intending to draw people into to them. That was their job, after all. To make one feel so entranced by their stories that they kept asking for more. And of course paid for it as well. Without hearing her speak much more, Dorothea could tell that Anastasia was excellent at her work.
As Dorothea settled into her position on the beach, she watched as Anastasia drank from her bottle and considered her question. She was certainly alluring and Dorothea imagined that people paid handsomely to hear her stories. It wasn’t often that Dorothea was able to hear stories from a bard herself. They didn’t frequent the places that bards performed, though she was sure their tales were most interesting. Dorothea had a thirst to hear about places and people far from her home. She had read countless books on lands afar and one day hoped to visit them herself.
Anastasia answered her question with a question, drawing a smile to Dorothea’s lips. Oh yes, she was quite the storyteller indeed. Dorothea didn’t have such a way with words. She could be polite, but she was of an honest family. She could be blunt more often than not. Her words were not beautiful poems to listen to, not such as this woman’s were.
“Yes,” she answered simply. “I have been coming here for many years and have never known to see another on this beach. It’s quite the walk for most people, but I have scaled this cliff many times. My family lands rest not far from them.”
Of course, the woman hadn’t really answered her question, but Dorothea would let it rest for now. It seemed the bard wished to keep some things a secret. “I am happy to share my slice of paradise with you. I always thought it a shame that nobody else would see this place.”
“Are you enjoying your time in Taengea?” she asked, guessing that Anastasia wasn’t from her home. There was something different in her accent and besides, bards were known to travel.
Give me your time, and you will find yourself entertained. Give me your ears, and I'll bring you tales from the bounds of all creation. Come closer, Lady Dorothea.
Anastasia reveled in the sort of chase that brought two closer together. The thrill of it, the ticking rise of her pulse as she let her thoughts outside of this cloud and her gaze drift from the beauty of the sea to the beautiful royal in front of her. She drank in every feature, the subtle shifts in expression and the reactions that followed them. As she spoke, those hazel eyes could be seen laden with fascination. It was in her best interests to put up the face of intrigue. To give others a chance to speak often opened their pockets deeper than any story she could recount.
But, not in the moment.
The bard was intrigued by the royal who seemed to content to whisk herself away from the world. Often enough, they were in the company of servants, or contemporaries, friends, or family. It was difficult to find royals truly alone, and she wondered how it might feel to be so restrained. Incomparable wealth at the cost of... what toll did they pay? Anastasia was fascinated by the smile that carved upon the royal's lips. She held an expression of polite interest, and her response lingered in Ana's thoughts. She explained the reasoning behind her being here effectively enough and was content in it.
What caught Anastasia's attention further still was her second statement. To share her slice of paradise? she mused, both intrigued by what she called it and all the more satisfied that Dorothea of Dimitrou did not wish to be rid of her just yet. She drifted just slightly closer before she set down the bottle. She'd place it within Dorothea's reach should she wish to partake, but the bard laid down where she was. The sand shifted with the movement, and she hardly seemed to mind if sand got in her hair. She'd wash again before she left, the but exquisite comfort of the rays of the sun, the cushion of the sand and the barrier of the blanket along with Dorothea's next question were at the forefront of thought.
Are you enjoying your time in Taengea?
It was a simple, innocent question, one that gave to Ana the impression that Lady Dorothea might've even be intrigued. A simple ask, but words like enjoy hardly went out to the bards of the land. They were to bring enjoyment, and seldom was any sort of question in the like given to them. At least, in Ana's experience. Others were more fascinated by legends, by the histories, by the journeys that Anastasia spoke of. Never was the hear and now relevant. She let off a soft chuckle, letting her eyes fall shut as she arched her back just slightly. Then, she raised one leg over the other in a sort of stretch before she resumed laying with one knee raised.
"Taengea is quite unlike the other kingdoms of Greece. Your people, my lady, seem to know how to enjoy themselves a bit better," she mused aloud, her lips again curving into a grin as her eyes opened to meet Lady Dorothea's gaze.
"One kingdom too brutish, the other two stuffy and pretentious. Taengea seems to know the moment and how to live in it most fruitfully. So, yes. This kingdom suits me just fine, and I'm quite pleased to have the privilege of being here."
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Posted In water's edge on Jun 1, 2020 22:00:36 GMT
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Give me your time, and you will find yourself entertained. Give me your ears, and I'll bring you tales from the bounds of all creation. Come closer, Lady Dorothea.
Anastasia reveled in the sort of chase that brought two closer together. The thrill of it, the ticking rise of her pulse as she let her thoughts outside of this cloud and her gaze drift from the beauty of the sea to the beautiful royal in front of her. She drank in every feature, the subtle shifts in expression and the reactions that followed them. As she spoke, those hazel eyes could be seen laden with fascination. It was in her best interests to put up the face of intrigue. To give others a chance to speak often opened their pockets deeper than any story she could recount.
But, not in the moment.
The bard was intrigued by the royal who seemed to content to whisk herself away from the world. Often enough, they were in the company of servants, or contemporaries, friends, or family. It was difficult to find royals truly alone, and she wondered how it might feel to be so restrained. Incomparable wealth at the cost of... what toll did they pay? Anastasia was fascinated by the smile that carved upon the royal's lips. She held an expression of polite interest, and her response lingered in Ana's thoughts. She explained the reasoning behind her being here effectively enough and was content in it.
What caught Anastasia's attention further still was her second statement. To share her slice of paradise? she mused, both intrigued by what she called it and all the more satisfied that Dorothea of Dimitrou did not wish to be rid of her just yet. She drifted just slightly closer before she set down the bottle. She'd place it within Dorothea's reach should she wish to partake, but the bard laid down where she was. The sand shifted with the movement, and she hardly seemed to mind if sand got in her hair. She'd wash again before she left, the but exquisite comfort of the rays of the sun, the cushion of the sand and the barrier of the blanket along with Dorothea's next question were at the forefront of thought.
Are you enjoying your time in Taengea?
It was a simple, innocent question, one that gave to Ana the impression that Lady Dorothea might've even be intrigued. A simple ask, but words like enjoy hardly went out to the bards of the land. They were to bring enjoyment, and seldom was any sort of question in the like given to them. At least, in Ana's experience. Others were more fascinated by legends, by the histories, by the journeys that Anastasia spoke of. Never was the hear and now relevant. She let off a soft chuckle, letting her eyes fall shut as she arched her back just slightly. Then, she raised one leg over the other in a sort of stretch before she resumed laying with one knee raised.
"Taengea is quite unlike the other kingdoms of Greece. Your people, my lady, seem to know how to enjoy themselves a bit better," she mused aloud, her lips again curving into a grin as her eyes opened to meet Lady Dorothea's gaze.
"One kingdom too brutish, the other two stuffy and pretentious. Taengea seems to know the moment and how to live in it most fruitfully. So, yes. This kingdom suits me just fine, and I'm quite pleased to have the privilege of being here."
Give me your time, and you will find yourself entertained. Give me your ears, and I'll bring you tales from the bounds of all creation. Come closer, Lady Dorothea.
Anastasia reveled in the sort of chase that brought two closer together. The thrill of it, the ticking rise of her pulse as she let her thoughts outside of this cloud and her gaze drift from the beauty of the sea to the beautiful royal in front of her. She drank in every feature, the subtle shifts in expression and the reactions that followed them. As she spoke, those hazel eyes could be seen laden with fascination. It was in her best interests to put up the face of intrigue. To give others a chance to speak often opened their pockets deeper than any story she could recount.
But, not in the moment.
The bard was intrigued by the royal who seemed to content to whisk herself away from the world. Often enough, they were in the company of servants, or contemporaries, friends, or family. It was difficult to find royals truly alone, and she wondered how it might feel to be so restrained. Incomparable wealth at the cost of... what toll did they pay? Anastasia was fascinated by the smile that carved upon the royal's lips. She held an expression of polite interest, and her response lingered in Ana's thoughts. She explained the reasoning behind her being here effectively enough and was content in it.
What caught Anastasia's attention further still was her second statement. To share her slice of paradise? she mused, both intrigued by what she called it and all the more satisfied that Dorothea of Dimitrou did not wish to be rid of her just yet. She drifted just slightly closer before she set down the bottle. She'd place it within Dorothea's reach should she wish to partake, but the bard laid down where she was. The sand shifted with the movement, and she hardly seemed to mind if sand got in her hair. She'd wash again before she left, the but exquisite comfort of the rays of the sun, the cushion of the sand and the barrier of the blanket along with Dorothea's next question were at the forefront of thought.
Are you enjoying your time in Taengea?
It was a simple, innocent question, one that gave to Ana the impression that Lady Dorothea might've even be intrigued. A simple ask, but words like enjoy hardly went out to the bards of the land. They were to bring enjoyment, and seldom was any sort of question in the like given to them. At least, in Ana's experience. Others were more fascinated by legends, by the histories, by the journeys that Anastasia spoke of. Never was the hear and now relevant. She let off a soft chuckle, letting her eyes fall shut as she arched her back just slightly. Then, she raised one leg over the other in a sort of stretch before she resumed laying with one knee raised.
"Taengea is quite unlike the other kingdoms of Greece. Your people, my lady, seem to know how to enjoy themselves a bit better," she mused aloud, her lips again curving into a grin as her eyes opened to meet Lady Dorothea's gaze.
"One kingdom too brutish, the other two stuffy and pretentious. Taengea seems to know the moment and how to live in it most fruitfully. So, yes. This kingdom suits me just fine, and I'm quite pleased to have the privilege of being here."
Dorothea knew that she was naïve in many ways, having been brought up both a Dimitrou and mostly in their country estates. Without a mother or woman to guide her in her more formative years, most everything she had learned about people had been from reading not her own interactions with them. She had learned a little more at the tender age of seventeen with the village girl who had become her close friend for a summer. But that was kind, gentle. Nothing like what she had found most men to be. Dorothea wasn’t sure that was even the true way of things. Yet, she felt some of that pull with this bard. The other woman clearly knew how to get people to like her—even if Dorothea wasn’t quite sure what she liked.
The young woman kept a slight eye on her companion, unable to relax completely, but not wanting to appear rude. Anastasia drew nearer to her, though Dorothea pretended not to notice. She was torn between rudeness and pure curiosity. What was this woman’s aim? The bottle of wine hovered between them and while Dorothea might have normally taken a sip, she refrained here. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust the wine, but she didn’t trust herself with the wine in her. She felt she ought to keep her wits clear.
As Anastasia answered her question, the young noble drew her gaze back to the bard. The answer was not some terrible surprise to Dorothea. She was aware of her kingdom’s reputation in comparison to the others. She had experienced a little of that herself when meeting others from Colchis or Athenia. Some of her own family resided in Colchis. It had been quite some time since she had seen any of those family members, however. Still, Dorothea yearned to experience some of those other cultures herself. It was one thing to read about them and meet some people and other to experience it completely.
The bard wouldn’t be able to help her with the latter, but perhaps she had some stories that she would be willing to share. Or if not, Dorothea would understand. Perhaps she had come out here to escape her occupation and leave the stories behind. As it was, Dorothea had no money on her. She rarely carried any and especially did not when she ventured to the beach. There was no point to carrying any.
“We welcome you,” she said, though doubted it needed to be said. “You must be well traveled to say such a thing. Unfortunately, I have only had the pleasure of reading of the other kingdoms. It must be interesting to travel so much yourself.” Dorothea found herself yearning for a story, but didn’t want to ask outright. Rather, she asked, “What called you to such a profession?”
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Dorothea knew that she was naïve in many ways, having been brought up both a Dimitrou and mostly in their country estates. Without a mother or woman to guide her in her more formative years, most everything she had learned about people had been from reading not her own interactions with them. She had learned a little more at the tender age of seventeen with the village girl who had become her close friend for a summer. But that was kind, gentle. Nothing like what she had found most men to be. Dorothea wasn’t sure that was even the true way of things. Yet, she felt some of that pull with this bard. The other woman clearly knew how to get people to like her—even if Dorothea wasn’t quite sure what she liked.
The young woman kept a slight eye on her companion, unable to relax completely, but not wanting to appear rude. Anastasia drew nearer to her, though Dorothea pretended not to notice. She was torn between rudeness and pure curiosity. What was this woman’s aim? The bottle of wine hovered between them and while Dorothea might have normally taken a sip, she refrained here. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust the wine, but she didn’t trust herself with the wine in her. She felt she ought to keep her wits clear.
As Anastasia answered her question, the young noble drew her gaze back to the bard. The answer was not some terrible surprise to Dorothea. She was aware of her kingdom’s reputation in comparison to the others. She had experienced a little of that herself when meeting others from Colchis or Athenia. Some of her own family resided in Colchis. It had been quite some time since she had seen any of those family members, however. Still, Dorothea yearned to experience some of those other cultures herself. It was one thing to read about them and meet some people and other to experience it completely.
The bard wouldn’t be able to help her with the latter, but perhaps she had some stories that she would be willing to share. Or if not, Dorothea would understand. Perhaps she had come out here to escape her occupation and leave the stories behind. As it was, Dorothea had no money on her. She rarely carried any and especially did not when she ventured to the beach. There was no point to carrying any.
“We welcome you,” she said, though doubted it needed to be said. “You must be well traveled to say such a thing. Unfortunately, I have only had the pleasure of reading of the other kingdoms. It must be interesting to travel so much yourself.” Dorothea found herself yearning for a story, but didn’t want to ask outright. Rather, she asked, “What called you to such a profession?”
Dorothea knew that she was naïve in many ways, having been brought up both a Dimitrou and mostly in their country estates. Without a mother or woman to guide her in her more formative years, most everything she had learned about people had been from reading not her own interactions with them. She had learned a little more at the tender age of seventeen with the village girl who had become her close friend for a summer. But that was kind, gentle. Nothing like what she had found most men to be. Dorothea wasn’t sure that was even the true way of things. Yet, she felt some of that pull with this bard. The other woman clearly knew how to get people to like her—even if Dorothea wasn’t quite sure what she liked.
The young woman kept a slight eye on her companion, unable to relax completely, but not wanting to appear rude. Anastasia drew nearer to her, though Dorothea pretended not to notice. She was torn between rudeness and pure curiosity. What was this woman’s aim? The bottle of wine hovered between them and while Dorothea might have normally taken a sip, she refrained here. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust the wine, but she didn’t trust herself with the wine in her. She felt she ought to keep her wits clear.
As Anastasia answered her question, the young noble drew her gaze back to the bard. The answer was not some terrible surprise to Dorothea. She was aware of her kingdom’s reputation in comparison to the others. She had experienced a little of that herself when meeting others from Colchis or Athenia. Some of her own family resided in Colchis. It had been quite some time since she had seen any of those family members, however. Still, Dorothea yearned to experience some of those other cultures herself. It was one thing to read about them and meet some people and other to experience it completely.
The bard wouldn’t be able to help her with the latter, but perhaps she had some stories that she would be willing to share. Or if not, Dorothea would understand. Perhaps she had come out here to escape her occupation and leave the stories behind. As it was, Dorothea had no money on her. She rarely carried any and especially did not when she ventured to the beach. There was no point to carrying any.
“We welcome you,” she said, though doubted it needed to be said. “You must be well traveled to say such a thing. Unfortunately, I have only had the pleasure of reading of the other kingdoms. It must be interesting to travel so much yourself.” Dorothea found herself yearning for a story, but didn’t want to ask outright. Rather, she asked, “What called you to such a profession?”
There was something about Dorothea that seemed... muted.
Perhaps she was intent upon keeping the royal facade even when no eyes were upon her to question her about it. Or, perhaps, there was something about Anastasia herself that took her ability to relax away. Was it the gaze she offered, suffused with appreciation and curiosity? The timbre of her voice and how she sought to bring others to her? Anastasia couldn't say, though there was that sliver of regret within her as she studied Dorothea and found that inability persisting.
It was often easy to get others to forget about the world and devolve into the pleasures of the moment. Often, mortals were so concerned with their futures, so bleary to most or so unclear and difficult to manage. Royals had the exception of not needing to worry about that, but they had the payoff of every present moment being consumed by propriety. Whereas Anastasia could be free, drink in public, fuck whomever she pleased and sleep well into the afternoon, she doubted that Dorothea could. The freedom of today at the cost of tomorrow was, in Anastasia' opinion, too high a price to pay. So, she mourned for the royal's present moment, and decided that she'd attempt to pry apart that barrier by whatever means necessary.
Show me who you are, Dorothea of Dimitrou.
She lay on the ground with hazel orbs intently studying the woman, a smile cast upon her lips as Dorothea took a moment to process her words. She seemed at odds with a thought. Did she seek out a story from the teller of tales? Anastasia did not often work for free and doubted thati n her things Dorothea carried any coin, but part of her was curious to have the woman ask. If only for Anastasia to have the opportunity to refuse a royal.
But, would she? She could think of reasons to tell tales to a royal that weren't explicitly monetary reward. However, she let the thought brush by the wayside when Dorothea spoke, a knowing chuckle on her lips. She'd traveled throughout both of the Greek kingdoms that weren't her sovereign, possibly knowing them better than many of the royals who lived there. She relished in that bit of information, and nodded in agreement.
"It is a heavy burden, having the liberty to travel the world," she offered, a drawn out moan escaping her lips as if she were Atlas, bearing the weight of the world itself upon her shoulders. She shifted in place before she rose up. Eager to take another sip of her wine, she wet her lips with the sanguine fluid before she added,
"Intrigue and providence, my lady. The world is a place far too few can see. For the layman or the royal, uprooting oneself is next to impossible. Merchants have some freedom, but are beholden to their customers nonetheless. I am beholden only to the Gods, who I uplift with my tales," she answered.
"Every story woven is an act of worship to Apollo. Every tale brought to the hearts of your sovereign people is a mission accomplished to further their domain."
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There was something about Dorothea that seemed... muted.
Perhaps she was intent upon keeping the royal facade even when no eyes were upon her to question her about it. Or, perhaps, there was something about Anastasia herself that took her ability to relax away. Was it the gaze she offered, suffused with appreciation and curiosity? The timbre of her voice and how she sought to bring others to her? Anastasia couldn't say, though there was that sliver of regret within her as she studied Dorothea and found that inability persisting.
It was often easy to get others to forget about the world and devolve into the pleasures of the moment. Often, mortals were so concerned with their futures, so bleary to most or so unclear and difficult to manage. Royals had the exception of not needing to worry about that, but they had the payoff of every present moment being consumed by propriety. Whereas Anastasia could be free, drink in public, fuck whomever she pleased and sleep well into the afternoon, she doubted that Dorothea could. The freedom of today at the cost of tomorrow was, in Anastasia' opinion, too high a price to pay. So, she mourned for the royal's present moment, and decided that she'd attempt to pry apart that barrier by whatever means necessary.
Show me who you are, Dorothea of Dimitrou.
She lay on the ground with hazel orbs intently studying the woman, a smile cast upon her lips as Dorothea took a moment to process her words. She seemed at odds with a thought. Did she seek out a story from the teller of tales? Anastasia did not often work for free and doubted thati n her things Dorothea carried any coin, but part of her was curious to have the woman ask. If only for Anastasia to have the opportunity to refuse a royal.
But, would she? She could think of reasons to tell tales to a royal that weren't explicitly monetary reward. However, she let the thought brush by the wayside when Dorothea spoke, a knowing chuckle on her lips. She'd traveled throughout both of the Greek kingdoms that weren't her sovereign, possibly knowing them better than many of the royals who lived there. She relished in that bit of information, and nodded in agreement.
"It is a heavy burden, having the liberty to travel the world," she offered, a drawn out moan escaping her lips as if she were Atlas, bearing the weight of the world itself upon her shoulders. She shifted in place before she rose up. Eager to take another sip of her wine, she wet her lips with the sanguine fluid before she added,
"Intrigue and providence, my lady. The world is a place far too few can see. For the layman or the royal, uprooting oneself is next to impossible. Merchants have some freedom, but are beholden to their customers nonetheless. I am beholden only to the Gods, who I uplift with my tales," she answered.
"Every story woven is an act of worship to Apollo. Every tale brought to the hearts of your sovereign people is a mission accomplished to further their domain."
There was something about Dorothea that seemed... muted.
Perhaps she was intent upon keeping the royal facade even when no eyes were upon her to question her about it. Or, perhaps, there was something about Anastasia herself that took her ability to relax away. Was it the gaze she offered, suffused with appreciation and curiosity? The timbre of her voice and how she sought to bring others to her? Anastasia couldn't say, though there was that sliver of regret within her as she studied Dorothea and found that inability persisting.
It was often easy to get others to forget about the world and devolve into the pleasures of the moment. Often, mortals were so concerned with their futures, so bleary to most or so unclear and difficult to manage. Royals had the exception of not needing to worry about that, but they had the payoff of every present moment being consumed by propriety. Whereas Anastasia could be free, drink in public, fuck whomever she pleased and sleep well into the afternoon, she doubted that Dorothea could. The freedom of today at the cost of tomorrow was, in Anastasia' opinion, too high a price to pay. So, she mourned for the royal's present moment, and decided that she'd attempt to pry apart that barrier by whatever means necessary.
Show me who you are, Dorothea of Dimitrou.
She lay on the ground with hazel orbs intently studying the woman, a smile cast upon her lips as Dorothea took a moment to process her words. She seemed at odds with a thought. Did she seek out a story from the teller of tales? Anastasia did not often work for free and doubted thati n her things Dorothea carried any coin, but part of her was curious to have the woman ask. If only for Anastasia to have the opportunity to refuse a royal.
But, would she? She could think of reasons to tell tales to a royal that weren't explicitly monetary reward. However, she let the thought brush by the wayside when Dorothea spoke, a knowing chuckle on her lips. She'd traveled throughout both of the Greek kingdoms that weren't her sovereign, possibly knowing them better than many of the royals who lived there. She relished in that bit of information, and nodded in agreement.
"It is a heavy burden, having the liberty to travel the world," she offered, a drawn out moan escaping her lips as if she were Atlas, bearing the weight of the world itself upon her shoulders. She shifted in place before she rose up. Eager to take another sip of her wine, she wet her lips with the sanguine fluid before she added,
"Intrigue and providence, my lady. The world is a place far too few can see. For the layman or the royal, uprooting oneself is next to impossible. Merchants have some freedom, but are beholden to their customers nonetheless. I am beholden only to the Gods, who I uplift with my tales," she answered.
"Every story woven is an act of worship to Apollo. Every tale brought to the hearts of your sovereign people is a mission accomplished to further their domain."
Oh yes, there was no doubt that this woman was an exceptional storyteller. She was well spoken, though Dorothea was sure that she would change her tone based on her audience. Those in common taverns weren’t likely to respond to such language, but the upper class certainly could. Ana probably performed for both audiences. It was something remarkable, really. Dorothea was certainly impressed and she had yet to hear any tale come from the woman’s mouth.
Dorothea shifted slightly, turning more towards the bard as she spoke. It was as if the woman’s words were almost bewitching in a way. Her tone of voice was certainly attractive to Dorothea, but more so was the idea of an explored. Dorothea knew so little of the realities of the world around her. She was very well read, but that didn’t always translate to experience. Her only true experience was in parts of Taengea, not having ever left it’s soil. What she wouldn’t give for the chance to travel and be free. It felt so much like a dream, Dorothea was not sure if she would ever achieve her. She knew where her duties were, even if she didn’t particularly love most of them. Dorothea would have much rather been born a sailor or wander, something akin to Ana. That was what felt right to her. Yet, she knew nothing of that life and could not truly partake.
“That sounds like a wonderful calling,” she replied, feeling her words already twist beneath her. She was not as well spoken as this woman, noble or not. Dorothea did not tell stories in the way of this bard. She was blunt, often speaking her true feelings without an eloquence that others possessed. She supposed that was as much a part of being a Dimitrou as anything. And she hadn’t had a strong female presence in her life to raise her to be any other way. This was perhaps the first time that she truly felt that it was a shame. There was just something magical about the way that this bard spoke.
“You have a freedom that most would be envious of,” Dorothea added, thinking of herself and the world she was a part of. “Though I suppose if everyone had such freedoms, then there would be nobody for you to tell your stories to. Everyone would know something of adventure themselves.”
“Where have you performed in Taengea thus far?”
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Oh yes, there was no doubt that this woman was an exceptional storyteller. She was well spoken, though Dorothea was sure that she would change her tone based on her audience. Those in common taverns weren’t likely to respond to such language, but the upper class certainly could. Ana probably performed for both audiences. It was something remarkable, really. Dorothea was certainly impressed and she had yet to hear any tale come from the woman’s mouth.
Dorothea shifted slightly, turning more towards the bard as she spoke. It was as if the woman’s words were almost bewitching in a way. Her tone of voice was certainly attractive to Dorothea, but more so was the idea of an explored. Dorothea knew so little of the realities of the world around her. She was very well read, but that didn’t always translate to experience. Her only true experience was in parts of Taengea, not having ever left it’s soil. What she wouldn’t give for the chance to travel and be free. It felt so much like a dream, Dorothea was not sure if she would ever achieve her. She knew where her duties were, even if she didn’t particularly love most of them. Dorothea would have much rather been born a sailor or wander, something akin to Ana. That was what felt right to her. Yet, she knew nothing of that life and could not truly partake.
“That sounds like a wonderful calling,” she replied, feeling her words already twist beneath her. She was not as well spoken as this woman, noble or not. Dorothea did not tell stories in the way of this bard. She was blunt, often speaking her true feelings without an eloquence that others possessed. She supposed that was as much a part of being a Dimitrou as anything. And she hadn’t had a strong female presence in her life to raise her to be any other way. This was perhaps the first time that she truly felt that it was a shame. There was just something magical about the way that this bard spoke.
“You have a freedom that most would be envious of,” Dorothea added, thinking of herself and the world she was a part of. “Though I suppose if everyone had such freedoms, then there would be nobody for you to tell your stories to. Everyone would know something of adventure themselves.”
“Where have you performed in Taengea thus far?”
Oh yes, there was no doubt that this woman was an exceptional storyteller. She was well spoken, though Dorothea was sure that she would change her tone based on her audience. Those in common taverns weren’t likely to respond to such language, but the upper class certainly could. Ana probably performed for both audiences. It was something remarkable, really. Dorothea was certainly impressed and she had yet to hear any tale come from the woman’s mouth.
Dorothea shifted slightly, turning more towards the bard as she spoke. It was as if the woman’s words were almost bewitching in a way. Her tone of voice was certainly attractive to Dorothea, but more so was the idea of an explored. Dorothea knew so little of the realities of the world around her. She was very well read, but that didn’t always translate to experience. Her only true experience was in parts of Taengea, not having ever left it’s soil. What she wouldn’t give for the chance to travel and be free. It felt so much like a dream, Dorothea was not sure if she would ever achieve her. She knew where her duties were, even if she didn’t particularly love most of them. Dorothea would have much rather been born a sailor or wander, something akin to Ana. That was what felt right to her. Yet, she knew nothing of that life and could not truly partake.
“That sounds like a wonderful calling,” she replied, feeling her words already twist beneath her. She was not as well spoken as this woman, noble or not. Dorothea did not tell stories in the way of this bard. She was blunt, often speaking her true feelings without an eloquence that others possessed. She supposed that was as much a part of being a Dimitrou as anything. And she hadn’t had a strong female presence in her life to raise her to be any other way. This was perhaps the first time that she truly felt that it was a shame. There was just something magical about the way that this bard spoke.
“You have a freedom that most would be envious of,” Dorothea added, thinking of herself and the world she was a part of. “Though I suppose if everyone had such freedoms, then there would be nobody for you to tell your stories to. Everyone would know something of adventure themselves.”
“Where have you performed in Taengea thus far?”
"That sounds like a wonderful calling."
The fantasies that Ana spun were a wonderful calling, indeed. She'd worked very hard to secure the audiences that she had, both as a taleweaver and an acrobat. She sought to appeal to as many eyes and ears as possible, and it was the gift of the Gods that she possessed beauty that made the eyes linger once they were pulled to her. But, Dorothea's tone spoke to something else, and the notion only grew stronger the more the royal spoke.
"You have a freedom most would be envious of."
Does that include you? Her voice almost held a degree of lament in it, and Anastasia couldn't help but wonder just what sort of lives these people lived inside of their ivory towers. More and more, Ana was curious, caught again by the notion of offness about Dorothea, at least... once she learned her family name. Was Ana being judgmental? A momentary prejudice, a curiosity that manifested. How could the royals who had everything possibly... lament?
This wasn't to say that the bard detested nobility. They were her best customers, and this wouldn't be the first - or last - time that she found herself with them. But, this curiosity also served its purpose. She could be less formal with this girl, bring down her tone and let Dorothea herself relax in the midst of something more common. Chatting with a girl rather than the mask of nobility served her tastes, anyway.
And, she was right. Anastasia was glad that there were people stuck in the drum of their existence. Being well-traveled was a rarity, destined for those without a home to call their own. Or rather, a physical one. The abstract that was 'all of Taengea' was often called Ana's home, instead.
"It'd be rather bad for business, wouldn't it?" she offered, a bit of humour in her tone as she shifted on her rear. She turned her body to bring her upper half just a shade closer to Dorothea. Then, she laid down, her goblet still in hand as she hummed in thought, gathering all of the names of the provinces she's visited.
"It might be easier to list the provinces I haven't been in," she answered, a chuckle on her lips before she elaborated,
"Acharist, for one. Horses have always made me a bit uncomfortable."
It was an honest answer. Ana did not like riding beasts, preferring a carriage or a ship to travel. Though, beyond that even, she simply preferred to walk. There was no seeing the world on the back of a horse, after all. Taking one's time, seeing the sights... There was no shortage of it, after all. "I've been to, but never performed in Aetotis, I think. Chaeodia, too. Maybe someday... The rest there's been at least one night I've performed."
She was curious of how much of her own kingdom the Lady knew. She raised the goblet to her lips, putting an empty goblet onto the sand before she reached for the bottle to bring it closer to the pair of them.
"And how about you, my lady? How much of Taengea have you seen?"
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"That sounds like a wonderful calling."
The fantasies that Ana spun were a wonderful calling, indeed. She'd worked very hard to secure the audiences that she had, both as a taleweaver and an acrobat. She sought to appeal to as many eyes and ears as possible, and it was the gift of the Gods that she possessed beauty that made the eyes linger once they were pulled to her. But, Dorothea's tone spoke to something else, and the notion only grew stronger the more the royal spoke.
"You have a freedom most would be envious of."
Does that include you? Her voice almost held a degree of lament in it, and Anastasia couldn't help but wonder just what sort of lives these people lived inside of their ivory towers. More and more, Ana was curious, caught again by the notion of offness about Dorothea, at least... once she learned her family name. Was Ana being judgmental? A momentary prejudice, a curiosity that manifested. How could the royals who had everything possibly... lament?
This wasn't to say that the bard detested nobility. They were her best customers, and this wouldn't be the first - or last - time that she found herself with them. But, this curiosity also served its purpose. She could be less formal with this girl, bring down her tone and let Dorothea herself relax in the midst of something more common. Chatting with a girl rather than the mask of nobility served her tastes, anyway.
And, she was right. Anastasia was glad that there were people stuck in the drum of their existence. Being well-traveled was a rarity, destined for those without a home to call their own. Or rather, a physical one. The abstract that was 'all of Taengea' was often called Ana's home, instead.
"It'd be rather bad for business, wouldn't it?" she offered, a bit of humour in her tone as she shifted on her rear. She turned her body to bring her upper half just a shade closer to Dorothea. Then, she laid down, her goblet still in hand as she hummed in thought, gathering all of the names of the provinces she's visited.
"It might be easier to list the provinces I haven't been in," she answered, a chuckle on her lips before she elaborated,
"Acharist, for one. Horses have always made me a bit uncomfortable."
It was an honest answer. Ana did not like riding beasts, preferring a carriage or a ship to travel. Though, beyond that even, she simply preferred to walk. There was no seeing the world on the back of a horse, after all. Taking one's time, seeing the sights... There was no shortage of it, after all. "I've been to, but never performed in Aetotis, I think. Chaeodia, too. Maybe someday... The rest there's been at least one night I've performed."
She was curious of how much of her own kingdom the Lady knew. She raised the goblet to her lips, putting an empty goblet onto the sand before she reached for the bottle to bring it closer to the pair of them.
"And how about you, my lady? How much of Taengea have you seen?"
"That sounds like a wonderful calling."
The fantasies that Ana spun were a wonderful calling, indeed. She'd worked very hard to secure the audiences that she had, both as a taleweaver and an acrobat. She sought to appeal to as many eyes and ears as possible, and it was the gift of the Gods that she possessed beauty that made the eyes linger once they were pulled to her. But, Dorothea's tone spoke to something else, and the notion only grew stronger the more the royal spoke.
"You have a freedom most would be envious of."
Does that include you? Her voice almost held a degree of lament in it, and Anastasia couldn't help but wonder just what sort of lives these people lived inside of their ivory towers. More and more, Ana was curious, caught again by the notion of offness about Dorothea, at least... once she learned her family name. Was Ana being judgmental? A momentary prejudice, a curiosity that manifested. How could the royals who had everything possibly... lament?
This wasn't to say that the bard detested nobility. They were her best customers, and this wouldn't be the first - or last - time that she found herself with them. But, this curiosity also served its purpose. She could be less formal with this girl, bring down her tone and let Dorothea herself relax in the midst of something more common. Chatting with a girl rather than the mask of nobility served her tastes, anyway.
And, she was right. Anastasia was glad that there were people stuck in the drum of their existence. Being well-traveled was a rarity, destined for those without a home to call their own. Or rather, a physical one. The abstract that was 'all of Taengea' was often called Ana's home, instead.
"It'd be rather bad for business, wouldn't it?" she offered, a bit of humour in her tone as she shifted on her rear. She turned her body to bring her upper half just a shade closer to Dorothea. Then, she laid down, her goblet still in hand as she hummed in thought, gathering all of the names of the provinces she's visited.
"It might be easier to list the provinces I haven't been in," she answered, a chuckle on her lips before she elaborated,
"Acharist, for one. Horses have always made me a bit uncomfortable."
It was an honest answer. Ana did not like riding beasts, preferring a carriage or a ship to travel. Though, beyond that even, she simply preferred to walk. There was no seeing the world on the back of a horse, after all. Taking one's time, seeing the sights... There was no shortage of it, after all. "I've been to, but never performed in Aetotis, I think. Chaeodia, too. Maybe someday... The rest there's been at least one night I've performed."
She was curious of how much of her own kingdom the Lady knew. She raised the goblet to her lips, putting an empty goblet onto the sand before she reached for the bottle to bring it closer to the pair of them.
"And how about you, my lady? How much of Taengea have you seen?"
Dorothea’s mind was taking her on a wild ride as Anastasia began to describe all of the places she had been to. Even Dorothea was not so well traveled in her home country. Their family had long since stopped traveling far for pleasure. There were trips to the capital, but that was all very boring and very predictable. In recent years, Dorothea had traveled there and to her friend Melina of Leventi’s family’s estates. She had hoped to go more places, but it appeared that was still in her future. And Dorothea was determined to make it so. She wanted nothing more than to explore the world that her books had described.
The bard’s statement that horses made her uncomfortable instantly made Dorothea wish to take her for a lesson right now. Perhaps she had simply not met the right horse. Her family had the best, most agreeable horses in Taengea. Surely there would be a creature in their stables that would be right for Ana. Though she was unsure why she had such a strong desire to help a woman she had only known for a short time. A span of less than an hour, really. Yet, there was something about her that had Dorothea wanting to know her better. She was interesting and more than a little intriguing. She noted the shift in Ana’s body, closing some of the distance between them. Dorothea found herself relaxing a bit, not attempting to move away.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” she remarked about horses. “Perhaps you simply have not found the right companion. My family raises horses—they all have different temperaments.” Dorothea would not let herself fall back into familiar talk of horses however, when there were adventure stories to be heard.
Yet, it seemed that familiar talk was destined for two of them, when Ana said she had not been to a province that was managed by Dorothea’s own brother. She felt a bit of embarrassment when the bard asked how much of her own country that she had seen. Dorothea wished it was more. Unfortunately, she was considerably more confined than her new companion. For the first time, Dorothea partook in some of the offered wine, feeling it relax her with a few sips. Her embarrassment passed by, knowing that there was nothing she could do to change her past.
“Sadly, not as much as you,” she answered finally. “We travel to the capital and a few of the surrounding provinces. Unfortunately, my family does not travel often. I have, however, been to Chaeodia.” She was hesitant to say that her family owned the lands and her brother managed them. The Dimitrous were simple people—not fond of flaunting any of the wealth in front of others. In fact, that was something that they even had rare occasion to do—as most other Taengean nobility were wealthier than them. However, they were people of their land, working alongside those that lived with them.
“You must visit,” she continued, deciding against declaring it as her family’s lands. “It has the most beautiful greens and vibrant forests. There’s plenty of game—the land is ripe for hunting. Have you ever been on a hunt before?”
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Dorothea’s mind was taking her on a wild ride as Anastasia began to describe all of the places she had been to. Even Dorothea was not so well traveled in her home country. Their family had long since stopped traveling far for pleasure. There were trips to the capital, but that was all very boring and very predictable. In recent years, Dorothea had traveled there and to her friend Melina of Leventi’s family’s estates. She had hoped to go more places, but it appeared that was still in her future. And Dorothea was determined to make it so. She wanted nothing more than to explore the world that her books had described.
The bard’s statement that horses made her uncomfortable instantly made Dorothea wish to take her for a lesson right now. Perhaps she had simply not met the right horse. Her family had the best, most agreeable horses in Taengea. Surely there would be a creature in their stables that would be right for Ana. Though she was unsure why she had such a strong desire to help a woman she had only known for a short time. A span of less than an hour, really. Yet, there was something about her that had Dorothea wanting to know her better. She was interesting and more than a little intriguing. She noted the shift in Ana’s body, closing some of the distance between them. Dorothea found herself relaxing a bit, not attempting to move away.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” she remarked about horses. “Perhaps you simply have not found the right companion. My family raises horses—they all have different temperaments.” Dorothea would not let herself fall back into familiar talk of horses however, when there were adventure stories to be heard.
Yet, it seemed that familiar talk was destined for two of them, when Ana said she had not been to a province that was managed by Dorothea’s own brother. She felt a bit of embarrassment when the bard asked how much of her own country that she had seen. Dorothea wished it was more. Unfortunately, she was considerably more confined than her new companion. For the first time, Dorothea partook in some of the offered wine, feeling it relax her with a few sips. Her embarrassment passed by, knowing that there was nothing she could do to change her past.
“Sadly, not as much as you,” she answered finally. “We travel to the capital and a few of the surrounding provinces. Unfortunately, my family does not travel often. I have, however, been to Chaeodia.” She was hesitant to say that her family owned the lands and her brother managed them. The Dimitrous were simple people—not fond of flaunting any of the wealth in front of others. In fact, that was something that they even had rare occasion to do—as most other Taengean nobility were wealthier than them. However, they were people of their land, working alongside those that lived with them.
“You must visit,” she continued, deciding against declaring it as her family’s lands. “It has the most beautiful greens and vibrant forests. There’s plenty of game—the land is ripe for hunting. Have you ever been on a hunt before?”
Dorothea’s mind was taking her on a wild ride as Anastasia began to describe all of the places she had been to. Even Dorothea was not so well traveled in her home country. Their family had long since stopped traveling far for pleasure. There were trips to the capital, but that was all very boring and very predictable. In recent years, Dorothea had traveled there and to her friend Melina of Leventi’s family’s estates. She had hoped to go more places, but it appeared that was still in her future. And Dorothea was determined to make it so. She wanted nothing more than to explore the world that her books had described.
The bard’s statement that horses made her uncomfortable instantly made Dorothea wish to take her for a lesson right now. Perhaps she had simply not met the right horse. Her family had the best, most agreeable horses in Taengea. Surely there would be a creature in their stables that would be right for Ana. Though she was unsure why she had such a strong desire to help a woman she had only known for a short time. A span of less than an hour, really. Yet, there was something about her that had Dorothea wanting to know her better. She was interesting and more than a little intriguing. She noted the shift in Ana’s body, closing some of the distance between them. Dorothea found herself relaxing a bit, not attempting to move away.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” she remarked about horses. “Perhaps you simply have not found the right companion. My family raises horses—they all have different temperaments.” Dorothea would not let herself fall back into familiar talk of horses however, when there were adventure stories to be heard.
Yet, it seemed that familiar talk was destined for two of them, when Ana said she had not been to a province that was managed by Dorothea’s own brother. She felt a bit of embarrassment when the bard asked how much of her own country that she had seen. Dorothea wished it was more. Unfortunately, she was considerably more confined than her new companion. For the first time, Dorothea partook in some of the offered wine, feeling it relax her with a few sips. Her embarrassment passed by, knowing that there was nothing she could do to change her past.
“Sadly, not as much as you,” she answered finally. “We travel to the capital and a few of the surrounding provinces. Unfortunately, my family does not travel often. I have, however, been to Chaeodia.” She was hesitant to say that her family owned the lands and her brother managed them. The Dimitrous were simple people—not fond of flaunting any of the wealth in front of others. In fact, that was something that they even had rare occasion to do—as most other Taengean nobility were wealthier than them. However, they were people of their land, working alongside those that lived with them.
“You must visit,” she continued, deciding against declaring it as her family’s lands. “It has the most beautiful greens and vibrant forests. There’s plenty of game—the land is ripe for hunting. Have you ever been on a hunt before?”
Perhaps, in another life, Anastasia might have actually been the nymph she claimed herself to be. Averse to the dangerous creatures of the deep, horses were not excluded from the legion of hellish monstrosities spawned by the imagination of Poseidon that Ana did not want to be in the path of. Poseidon's creatures were, after all, eternally trapped in a cycle of death, at odds with one another.
Well, to be fair, every creature is, in one way or the other.
To wax philosophical was not Anastasia's reasons for being at this beach, but something about the way that Dorothea spoke elicited it from her. The woman was clearly well-educated, or at the very least, well-versed. To hear that her family raised horses... it passed from one ear to the other. Leave the little beasties to their handlers, she supposed. To learn that not all of them possessed the same vile temperament as the one she'd try to ride wasn't so surprising. She'd been on carriages, after all. But, she certainly believed herself in capable of coaxing them to like her.
Leave it to those hellish monsters to be immune to my siren song, she lamented.
When Dorothea moved on to answer her counter-question, she was not surprised in the slightest. Travel seemed more the prerogative of those chasing fortunes. Those that possessed it could attract their money to them, after all. Dorothea seemed reserved at times even when she'd seemed to relax around Anastasia. Was there things she did not want to say? Did Ana make her uncomfortable with her questions? To dismay her company would be the last of her intentions.
"You must visit," she said, as if cutting off the dreary thought at its inception, and Anastasia felt the smile catch upon her lips once again. Anastasia even felt a glimmer of excitement at the premise of hunting. She'd not needed, or wanted, to hold a bow since her life in Athenia. It'd been nearly a decade since she'd fired a shot with any kind of purpose.
"That sounds amazing," she cooed, leaning forward to swipe at the bottle, refilling her goblet and placing it to her lips. She leaned into the blanket beneath them, stretching out just enough to feel a stretch without disrupting her companion's space.
"It's been a very long time, but yes. I'd love to join you on one."
It was the truth, but certainly, not the first thought to come to mind on how to spend her time with Dorothea.
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Perhaps, in another life, Anastasia might have actually been the nymph she claimed herself to be. Averse to the dangerous creatures of the deep, horses were not excluded from the legion of hellish monstrosities spawned by the imagination of Poseidon that Ana did not want to be in the path of. Poseidon's creatures were, after all, eternally trapped in a cycle of death, at odds with one another.
Well, to be fair, every creature is, in one way or the other.
To wax philosophical was not Anastasia's reasons for being at this beach, but something about the way that Dorothea spoke elicited it from her. The woman was clearly well-educated, or at the very least, well-versed. To hear that her family raised horses... it passed from one ear to the other. Leave the little beasties to their handlers, she supposed. To learn that not all of them possessed the same vile temperament as the one she'd try to ride wasn't so surprising. She'd been on carriages, after all. But, she certainly believed herself in capable of coaxing them to like her.
Leave it to those hellish monsters to be immune to my siren song, she lamented.
When Dorothea moved on to answer her counter-question, she was not surprised in the slightest. Travel seemed more the prerogative of those chasing fortunes. Those that possessed it could attract their money to them, after all. Dorothea seemed reserved at times even when she'd seemed to relax around Anastasia. Was there things she did not want to say? Did Ana make her uncomfortable with her questions? To dismay her company would be the last of her intentions.
"You must visit," she said, as if cutting off the dreary thought at its inception, and Anastasia felt the smile catch upon her lips once again. Anastasia even felt a glimmer of excitement at the premise of hunting. She'd not needed, or wanted, to hold a bow since her life in Athenia. It'd been nearly a decade since she'd fired a shot with any kind of purpose.
"That sounds amazing," she cooed, leaning forward to swipe at the bottle, refilling her goblet and placing it to her lips. She leaned into the blanket beneath them, stretching out just enough to feel a stretch without disrupting her companion's space.
"It's been a very long time, but yes. I'd love to join you on one."
It was the truth, but certainly, not the first thought to come to mind on how to spend her time with Dorothea.
Perhaps, in another life, Anastasia might have actually been the nymph she claimed herself to be. Averse to the dangerous creatures of the deep, horses were not excluded from the legion of hellish monstrosities spawned by the imagination of Poseidon that Ana did not want to be in the path of. Poseidon's creatures were, after all, eternally trapped in a cycle of death, at odds with one another.
Well, to be fair, every creature is, in one way or the other.
To wax philosophical was not Anastasia's reasons for being at this beach, but something about the way that Dorothea spoke elicited it from her. The woman was clearly well-educated, or at the very least, well-versed. To hear that her family raised horses... it passed from one ear to the other. Leave the little beasties to their handlers, she supposed. To learn that not all of them possessed the same vile temperament as the one she'd try to ride wasn't so surprising. She'd been on carriages, after all. But, she certainly believed herself in capable of coaxing them to like her.
Leave it to those hellish monsters to be immune to my siren song, she lamented.
When Dorothea moved on to answer her counter-question, she was not surprised in the slightest. Travel seemed more the prerogative of those chasing fortunes. Those that possessed it could attract their money to them, after all. Dorothea seemed reserved at times even when she'd seemed to relax around Anastasia. Was there things she did not want to say? Did Ana make her uncomfortable with her questions? To dismay her company would be the last of her intentions.
"You must visit," she said, as if cutting off the dreary thought at its inception, and Anastasia felt the smile catch upon her lips once again. Anastasia even felt a glimmer of excitement at the premise of hunting. She'd not needed, or wanted, to hold a bow since her life in Athenia. It'd been nearly a decade since she'd fired a shot with any kind of purpose.
"That sounds amazing," she cooed, leaning forward to swipe at the bottle, refilling her goblet and placing it to her lips. She leaned into the blanket beneath them, stretching out just enough to feel a stretch without disrupting her companion's space.
"It's been a very long time, but yes. I'd love to join you on one."
It was the truth, but certainly, not the first thought to come to mind on how to spend her time with Dorothea.
She hadn’t exactly expected Ana to tell her that she actually wanted to come on a hunt. It usually wasn’t something most women were interested in. Dorothea remembered when she had shot a deer in front of Melina one time and her poor friend had fainted at the sight of it. That wasn’t really an uncommon reaction, she had learned. And so Dorothea had stopped asking others to join a hunt with her. That was something mostly reserved for her father and brother, or when she wanted to be alone.
It been a half thought out offer, though she supposed it wasn’t one that was not intentional. Dorothea hardly every said things she didn’t mean. She believed in telling the truth and being honest. She strove to be polite when she could, but it was a waste of her time to mince words and say things she really didn’t mean. That often meant trouble for her later, she found. It was easier to say nothing at all than to lie and then have to do something completely uninterested.
“You’ve been on a hunt before?” she asked curiously, her eyes wide. “I’ve just never really met another woman who is interested in such things. I’m a bit of an anomaly among my peers.” Dorothea wasn’t embarrassed by that admission, it was like a fact to her. She was not popular like the other ladies of court and she really didn’t care. In fact, it was rather preferred. It left her time to do whatever she pleased and not play the court games. Of course, her father would probably prefer if she were a bit more popular because that meant that she might attract a man who would want to marry her. He didn’t understand that she had no wish to wed. To be trapped in such a thing would be absolutely terrible, she thought.
“I would be honored to have you join me,” Dorothea continued sincerely. “How long do you plan to stay in Taengea?” She was curious about how often the bard traveled between the countries. Was she planning to stay here awhile yet? Should Dorothea be seriously making plans? She already was mapping out in her mind where she would take Ana so that she could have the best hunt possible. It was perhaps a bit odd for her, for she truly didn’t know this other woman, but anyone who was also interested in hunting was interesting to her. Not to mention, perhaps she would learn more about the woman’s travels and what it was truly like to live among others, rather than reading about it in her books. Now that would be something truly wonderful.
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She hadn’t exactly expected Ana to tell her that she actually wanted to come on a hunt. It usually wasn’t something most women were interested in. Dorothea remembered when she had shot a deer in front of Melina one time and her poor friend had fainted at the sight of it. That wasn’t really an uncommon reaction, she had learned. And so Dorothea had stopped asking others to join a hunt with her. That was something mostly reserved for her father and brother, or when she wanted to be alone.
It been a half thought out offer, though she supposed it wasn’t one that was not intentional. Dorothea hardly every said things she didn’t mean. She believed in telling the truth and being honest. She strove to be polite when she could, but it was a waste of her time to mince words and say things she really didn’t mean. That often meant trouble for her later, she found. It was easier to say nothing at all than to lie and then have to do something completely uninterested.
“You’ve been on a hunt before?” she asked curiously, her eyes wide. “I’ve just never really met another woman who is interested in such things. I’m a bit of an anomaly among my peers.” Dorothea wasn’t embarrassed by that admission, it was like a fact to her. She was not popular like the other ladies of court and she really didn’t care. In fact, it was rather preferred. It left her time to do whatever she pleased and not play the court games. Of course, her father would probably prefer if she were a bit more popular because that meant that she might attract a man who would want to marry her. He didn’t understand that she had no wish to wed. To be trapped in such a thing would be absolutely terrible, she thought.
“I would be honored to have you join me,” Dorothea continued sincerely. “How long do you plan to stay in Taengea?” She was curious about how often the bard traveled between the countries. Was she planning to stay here awhile yet? Should Dorothea be seriously making plans? She already was mapping out in her mind where she would take Ana so that she could have the best hunt possible. It was perhaps a bit odd for her, for she truly didn’t know this other woman, but anyone who was also interested in hunting was interesting to her. Not to mention, perhaps she would learn more about the woman’s travels and what it was truly like to live among others, rather than reading about it in her books. Now that would be something truly wonderful.
She hadn’t exactly expected Ana to tell her that she actually wanted to come on a hunt. It usually wasn’t something most women were interested in. Dorothea remembered when she had shot a deer in front of Melina one time and her poor friend had fainted at the sight of it. That wasn’t really an uncommon reaction, she had learned. And so Dorothea had stopped asking others to join a hunt with her. That was something mostly reserved for her father and brother, or when she wanted to be alone.
It been a half thought out offer, though she supposed it wasn’t one that was not intentional. Dorothea hardly every said things she didn’t mean. She believed in telling the truth and being honest. She strove to be polite when she could, but it was a waste of her time to mince words and say things she really didn’t mean. That often meant trouble for her later, she found. It was easier to say nothing at all than to lie and then have to do something completely uninterested.
“You’ve been on a hunt before?” she asked curiously, her eyes wide. “I’ve just never really met another woman who is interested in such things. I’m a bit of an anomaly among my peers.” Dorothea wasn’t embarrassed by that admission, it was like a fact to her. She was not popular like the other ladies of court and she really didn’t care. In fact, it was rather preferred. It left her time to do whatever she pleased and not play the court games. Of course, her father would probably prefer if she were a bit more popular because that meant that she might attract a man who would want to marry her. He didn’t understand that she had no wish to wed. To be trapped in such a thing would be absolutely terrible, she thought.
“I would be honored to have you join me,” Dorothea continued sincerely. “How long do you plan to stay in Taengea?” She was curious about how often the bard traveled between the countries. Was she planning to stay here awhile yet? Should Dorothea be seriously making plans? She already was mapping out in her mind where she would take Ana so that she could have the best hunt possible. It was perhaps a bit odd for her, for she truly didn’t know this other woman, but anyone who was also interested in hunting was interesting to her. Not to mention, perhaps she would learn more about the woman’s travels and what it was truly like to live among others, rather than reading about it in her books. Now that would be something truly wonderful.
"You've been on a hunt before?"
The question took Anastasia to a different time. It almost felt fake to her, to feel the flash of memory that glimmered behind her eyes.
Calliope.
The voice called out, but it was no longer her own. A clasp upon her shoulder, a towering figure next to her. In her clenched left hand, she held a bow. The thought wilted away as Dorothea's voice struck her attention once more. It was all Anastasia could do to keep the wince from forming upon her expression, She concealed it with another draw from her goblet, regaining her composure as she answered,
"Just once or twice. It was all rather complicated, but I'm sure you could catch me up to speed."
It was a simple enough lie. An opposite to Dorothea, the bard seldom spoke truths. From her tales, embellished and twisted, to her very name, there was not a single thing about Ana that wasn't crafted into existence. Long ago she stopped wondering where the fabrication ended and her true self existed. Perhaps, it didn't matter after all of this time. A pair of eyebrows arched as Dorothea said the word 'honour', the facsimile thrown upon her face curving genuinely.
Hearing people speak that way seemed almost as much of a fantasy as a fable, harkening to tales of heroism and valor. The bard chuckled, then her features quickly knitted into a pensive expression as she considered her answer. Going back and forth between Taengea and Colchis was a taxing affair, and while she did it quite often she was certain that it wouldn't cross her mind for a while yet.
"At least through the rest of the summer. Colchis has its charms in the Autumn, once it begins to chill and the citizens find their ways into cozy little tavern corners. Staying there too close to Winter, though..." she put on a playful grimace, shivering in place before she added,
"From province to province, however? That's a bit of a different story."
Anastasia discerned the thoughtfulness in Dorothea's expression and found herself curious. Was she about to go on an adventure with a noble? She could already imagine weaving the stories about it.
The great huntress Dorothea and her beguiling companion embark on a grand hunt, only to be thrust into combat with brutal harpies.
It'd make a wonderful story
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"You've been on a hunt before?"
The question took Anastasia to a different time. It almost felt fake to her, to feel the flash of memory that glimmered behind her eyes.
Calliope.
The voice called out, but it was no longer her own. A clasp upon her shoulder, a towering figure next to her. In her clenched left hand, she held a bow. The thought wilted away as Dorothea's voice struck her attention once more. It was all Anastasia could do to keep the wince from forming upon her expression, She concealed it with another draw from her goblet, regaining her composure as she answered,
"Just once or twice. It was all rather complicated, but I'm sure you could catch me up to speed."
It was a simple enough lie. An opposite to Dorothea, the bard seldom spoke truths. From her tales, embellished and twisted, to her very name, there was not a single thing about Ana that wasn't crafted into existence. Long ago she stopped wondering where the fabrication ended and her true self existed. Perhaps, it didn't matter after all of this time. A pair of eyebrows arched as Dorothea said the word 'honour', the facsimile thrown upon her face curving genuinely.
Hearing people speak that way seemed almost as much of a fantasy as a fable, harkening to tales of heroism and valor. The bard chuckled, then her features quickly knitted into a pensive expression as she considered her answer. Going back and forth between Taengea and Colchis was a taxing affair, and while she did it quite often she was certain that it wouldn't cross her mind for a while yet.
"At least through the rest of the summer. Colchis has its charms in the Autumn, once it begins to chill and the citizens find their ways into cozy little tavern corners. Staying there too close to Winter, though..." she put on a playful grimace, shivering in place before she added,
"From province to province, however? That's a bit of a different story."
Anastasia discerned the thoughtfulness in Dorothea's expression and found herself curious. Was she about to go on an adventure with a noble? She could already imagine weaving the stories about it.
The great huntress Dorothea and her beguiling companion embark on a grand hunt, only to be thrust into combat with brutal harpies.
It'd make a wonderful story
"You've been on a hunt before?"
The question took Anastasia to a different time. It almost felt fake to her, to feel the flash of memory that glimmered behind her eyes.
Calliope.
The voice called out, but it was no longer her own. A clasp upon her shoulder, a towering figure next to her. In her clenched left hand, she held a bow. The thought wilted away as Dorothea's voice struck her attention once more. It was all Anastasia could do to keep the wince from forming upon her expression, She concealed it with another draw from her goblet, regaining her composure as she answered,
"Just once or twice. It was all rather complicated, but I'm sure you could catch me up to speed."
It was a simple enough lie. An opposite to Dorothea, the bard seldom spoke truths. From her tales, embellished and twisted, to her very name, there was not a single thing about Ana that wasn't crafted into existence. Long ago she stopped wondering where the fabrication ended and her true self existed. Perhaps, it didn't matter after all of this time. A pair of eyebrows arched as Dorothea said the word 'honour', the facsimile thrown upon her face curving genuinely.
Hearing people speak that way seemed almost as much of a fantasy as a fable, harkening to tales of heroism and valor. The bard chuckled, then her features quickly knitted into a pensive expression as she considered her answer. Going back and forth between Taengea and Colchis was a taxing affair, and while she did it quite often she was certain that it wouldn't cross her mind for a while yet.
"At least through the rest of the summer. Colchis has its charms in the Autumn, once it begins to chill and the citizens find their ways into cozy little tavern corners. Staying there too close to Winter, though..." she put on a playful grimace, shivering in place before she added,
"From province to province, however? That's a bit of a different story."
Anastasia discerned the thoughtfulness in Dorothea's expression and found herself curious. Was she about to go on an adventure with a noble? She could already imagine weaving the stories about it.
The great huntress Dorothea and her beguiling companion embark on a grand hunt, only to be thrust into combat with brutal harpies.
It'd make a wonderful story
There was a lot happening behind those eyes, Dorothea thought, her gaze resting upon Ana’s face. Clearly she was being taken to another time, when she had been on a hunt. Dorothea wondered what it must be like to have had so many adventures. To have lived so many lives. For it was clear that the bard had countless stories, many of them her own. What it must be like to have traveled and have lived. And how lonely must it be? For all of these memories and tales, where were the people that occupied them? Perhaps they had been with Ana for a time, but no longer.
Dorothea dreamed of adventure, but also loved her family. To be without them would be horrible. Or at least, to be without them for a long time. But perhaps Ana did not come from such a loving family. The Dimitrou knew that not all families were so close. That some were even dangerous. At some point, something had driven the bard to strike off on her own. Something had caused her to leave her family.
It was all supposition, of course. Dorothea didn’t know Ana’s story and she was sure that it would never be for her ears. She would simply become another tale for the bard to tell. A story of their grand hunt together—even if it never happened, the idea was planted. She could make up enough to paint the story in the mind of others. Dorothea wondered what it would be like to be a recipient of that tale.
“I’m sure,” the smile was wry on her lips. She had a feeling it wasn’t going to happen, even though the offer had been genuine. Dorothea was beginning to understand that she was not the same as the bard. Her words were true, the other woman’s words were stories. That didn’t make them any less beautiful.
Though…would she stay? Ana’s explanation to her travel behavior hinted at the possibility. Dorothea didn’t know how she would explain it, but she wouldn’t go back on her offer. “I’ve heard of the winters in Colchis. I’m not sure I could stand them myself,” she responded, her mind back on the conversation at hand. Though she was starting to drift. She had come for some activity and some quiet. Ana’s presence, while not entirely unwelcome, was unexpected.
“I think I may go back into the water,” Dorothea said, the decision suddenly made in her mind. She needed to wake herself from this…whatever this was. “You’re welcome to join me.”
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Feb 11, 2021 2:07:54 GMT
Posted In water's edge on Feb 11, 2021 2:07:54 GMT
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There was a lot happening behind those eyes, Dorothea thought, her gaze resting upon Ana’s face. Clearly she was being taken to another time, when she had been on a hunt. Dorothea wondered what it must be like to have had so many adventures. To have lived so many lives. For it was clear that the bard had countless stories, many of them her own. What it must be like to have traveled and have lived. And how lonely must it be? For all of these memories and tales, where were the people that occupied them? Perhaps they had been with Ana for a time, but no longer.
Dorothea dreamed of adventure, but also loved her family. To be without them would be horrible. Or at least, to be without them for a long time. But perhaps Ana did not come from such a loving family. The Dimitrou knew that not all families were so close. That some were even dangerous. At some point, something had driven the bard to strike off on her own. Something had caused her to leave her family.
It was all supposition, of course. Dorothea didn’t know Ana’s story and she was sure that it would never be for her ears. She would simply become another tale for the bard to tell. A story of their grand hunt together—even if it never happened, the idea was planted. She could make up enough to paint the story in the mind of others. Dorothea wondered what it would be like to be a recipient of that tale.
“I’m sure,” the smile was wry on her lips. She had a feeling it wasn’t going to happen, even though the offer had been genuine. Dorothea was beginning to understand that she was not the same as the bard. Her words were true, the other woman’s words were stories. That didn’t make them any less beautiful.
Though…would she stay? Ana’s explanation to her travel behavior hinted at the possibility. Dorothea didn’t know how she would explain it, but she wouldn’t go back on her offer. “I’ve heard of the winters in Colchis. I’m not sure I could stand them myself,” she responded, her mind back on the conversation at hand. Though she was starting to drift. She had come for some activity and some quiet. Ana’s presence, while not entirely unwelcome, was unexpected.
“I think I may go back into the water,” Dorothea said, the decision suddenly made in her mind. She needed to wake herself from this…whatever this was. “You’re welcome to join me.”
There was a lot happening behind those eyes, Dorothea thought, her gaze resting upon Ana’s face. Clearly she was being taken to another time, when she had been on a hunt. Dorothea wondered what it must be like to have had so many adventures. To have lived so many lives. For it was clear that the bard had countless stories, many of them her own. What it must be like to have traveled and have lived. And how lonely must it be? For all of these memories and tales, where were the people that occupied them? Perhaps they had been with Ana for a time, but no longer.
Dorothea dreamed of adventure, but also loved her family. To be without them would be horrible. Or at least, to be without them for a long time. But perhaps Ana did not come from such a loving family. The Dimitrou knew that not all families were so close. That some were even dangerous. At some point, something had driven the bard to strike off on her own. Something had caused her to leave her family.
It was all supposition, of course. Dorothea didn’t know Ana’s story and she was sure that it would never be for her ears. She would simply become another tale for the bard to tell. A story of their grand hunt together—even if it never happened, the idea was planted. She could make up enough to paint the story in the mind of others. Dorothea wondered what it would be like to be a recipient of that tale.
“I’m sure,” the smile was wry on her lips. She had a feeling it wasn’t going to happen, even though the offer had been genuine. Dorothea was beginning to understand that she was not the same as the bard. Her words were true, the other woman’s words were stories. That didn’t make them any less beautiful.
Though…would she stay? Ana’s explanation to her travel behavior hinted at the possibility. Dorothea didn’t know how she would explain it, but she wouldn’t go back on her offer. “I’ve heard of the winters in Colchis. I’m not sure I could stand them myself,” she responded, her mind back on the conversation at hand. Though she was starting to drift. She had come for some activity and some quiet. Ana’s presence, while not entirely unwelcome, was unexpected.
“I think I may go back into the water,” Dorothea said, the decision suddenly made in her mind. She needed to wake herself from this…whatever this was. “You’re welcome to join me.”
