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Current Novus date and time is

▶ Year || 502
▶ Season || Summer
▶ Temp || 74℉ (℃) - 100℉ (℃)
▶ Weather || With the end of Spring comes Summer's warm embrace. While some flourish in the comfortable glow of the sun, others take shelter from its sweltering midday heat. Even so, it is now that the continent bustles with life, for it won't be long until a cool chill returns.


Character of the Season

Member of the Season

Thread of the Season
.. Cool your fever ..

Pair of the Season
Ipomoea and Messalina

Quote of the Season
Bexley gives him a cold, dark, beautiful smile. “Wanna see a trick?” she asks, eyes glowing with feral self-satisfaction. The bare of her teeth in a mock-grin is nothing less than terrifying. “I can make you see ghosts.” do the hungry ever sleep?

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little ghost, so forgotte...
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. she wants to feel like ...
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Florestan's log cabin
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in all harmony, in all of...
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Delete - Nevaeh
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A letter, returned.
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Last Post: Reichenbach
Yesterday, 11:54 PM
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  Teiran Log
Posted by: Teiran - 4 hours ago - Forum: Logs - Replies (4)


seraphina sovereign, fellow child soldier


only blood can set you free with day court & davke


nothing yet to track


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  . skies are blue, haven't been for a while
Posted by: Moira - 6 hours ago - Forum: The Night Court - No Replies

I paid the price and own the scars
why did we climb to fall so far ?

 it's time, she thinks quietly, drawing into herself until she can square her shoulders and paste on that secret smile that has a way of curling around the edges of her mouth, amber eyes half hidden beneath lashes that are longer than life itself. amber gaze glints, shining dangerously from the shadows, and at last she steps outside of the library doors. today she would introduce herself to reichenback, the rightful king of the night court. after having been here all spring, of course Moira had seen him about with others. she'd hastily averted her gaze then and continued past in a flourish of crimson and gold. then, she had not been ready to meet the ruler of the house. too many rules were placed upon her before within the tonnerre compound. 'you must do this, moira.' 'never sit like that!' 'ten lashings if you or Estelle ever repeat such mistakes, girl.' and the glares! if she'd thought those cold, tinny voices had been awful, their eyes had been much worse. 

 what would this king be like? would he be kind with that smile she saw, crinkling eyes, and laughter ringing about him as though he were a jester made for everyone's entertainment? would his voice be as frosty as the mountains were tall and his commands so lordly and high? or would he be something in between? a safe haven for those lost, a warm hand to guide you through the dark? 

 no matter, she thinks, whispering it under her breath where she believes none will hear, today this is happening. head held high and eyes on the end of the corridor, the listens to the door close softly behind her, a sighing the only sign that it was a place she could not enter until she'd completed this task she alone assigned to herself.

 candlelit corridors greet her, sconces set high upon the walls so that all would be brought to light in the midnight hours when the citizens all waltzed and played. she longs for the book left open upon the wooden table in the back corner of the library she'd claimed for herself, ancient pages still whispering their secrets to the rest of the darkness left behind. all the while, voices down hallways ring around her, her own feet sound like thunder in her ears, but nothing but serenity rests upon her dark visage. rounding a corner, and then another, moira makes her way to the entryway, hoping to find reichenback quick enough so she may scurry back into her little corner of the castle once more. 

 "hello?" she calls softly, amber eyes roaming about only to find few heads turning toward her. they were busy with their lives, as she should be. "reichenbach?" echoes at last, a more stubborn and mulish tone at last coming forward as brows drew down to settle heavily over her face. 

in this house of broken hearts
we made our love out of stacks of cards

@Reichenbach moira stop pouting ono

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  Florestan's log cabin
Posted by: Florestan - Today, 08:04 AM - Forum: Logs - Replies (4)

nothing to see here...

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  A letter, returned.
Posted by: Reichenbach - Yesterday, 11:54 PM - Forum: The Day Court - No Replies

The hawk returned that same night, fatigued but still sharp-eyed. Tied to it's leg is a new scroll — when unrolled the scent of woodsmoke and jasmine unfurls, and a single coal curl lays upon two sincere words:

Thank you.

— Reichenbach.



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  . she wants to feel like she did before
Posted by: Moira - Yesterday, 04:07 PM - Forum: Praistigia Cliffs - Replies (2)

I paid the price and own the scars
why did we climb to fall so far ?

An enigma upon the grounds, she seems to almost float with an air of dignity and solitude about her. There is no entourage to keep her company, no shadows following close to make sure that no harm comes to the Phoenix Woman, only the soft clattering of stone underfoot as each hoof falls on the pathway below. So few walk here, such resounding quietude was a reprieve from the whisper of feet outside corridor doors and the ever-constant babbling of who knows which people for the evening. Only the wind talks to her now, a welcoming caress against her ear, kissing her cheek and toying with her overly long tail until only tangles would remain to be sorted when night fell once more. Not yet, though, is it coming to claim the world as it did when all days came to their conclusion. Instead, the afternoon sun beats down upon her, setting fire to the already burning woman, painting her as a lighthouse in a storm, a flame given life, a torch gliding forward with nothing more than simple exploration on her mind.

No thoughts of Estelle haunt her today. Fresh from bed, put together so nicely that her aunts and uncles would have cried to see her so becoming and blossoming into a woman, and ready to take on the adventure and garner new knowledge, she is unruffled and at ease. For the first day in months she does not carry upon her shoulders a tension and sorrow that Atlas would have fallen under. There are few shadows beneath swirling amber eyes to draw away from the otherwise pretty visage that shows much more light and laughter than anything else. 


The feeling pervades her senses, spreads throughout the area until she is forced to draw in a deep breath and let it out with a small smile at last coming to light. And it is as though the angels themselves are singing, that one simple act changing everything about the girl completely. Wings flutter upon her shoulders, all too heavy and strange even now that she is grown, having gone unused for the entirety of her life, but so lovely and flashy all the same. Chest rises and falls slowly, there is nothing to hinder her climb into the unknown along craggy peaks that are packed full of small shrubs and resilient flowers that line the edges of rocks and sprout through cracks to wave and say hello. Some distant part of her is reminded all too much of her family as she comes to a lower edge of a cliff. Not at the top, but perhaps here would be a resting spot.

There is a beauty in the harshness she longs to paint, to draw, to sketch. Even outlines are flung from her heart in the small amount of debris underfoot as she quickly lines the distant peaks. Their harsh angles and echoing silence was the most wonderful thing she's seen yet in all of Novus; it was very much like the Tonnerres with their savage barbs and icy demeanor to all but those they chose to keep. For a moment she remembers home and what it was like to sit beside a fire every night with her tea and books. Florence and Gael pulling at her hair while she studied long into the night, Eluoan beaming at her progression that had moved so quickly and all the promise she'd shown, and at last their matriarch. The glimmer that had been in her eye as Moira chose to follow Estelle into the unknown beyond their compound.

Outside of those walls was the first time she saw birds up close. There were doves in the menagerie, but that was not a place Moira was yet allowed entry into. More often than not, there were hounds for hunting trips and the occasional playmate when the boys were little, and then there were cats for the girls. Personally, she'd always enjoyed the little snow white kitten with blue eyes that had taken up residence in the Doctor's home around the time that Moira had. Often it would curl against her when it was younger, and soon it learned to bat at the twins when they'd come to bother her. 

Such memories were as heart wrenching as they were welcomed, a welcome reminder that one day she would find a home - her home - again. Until then, she pauses to just watch as the clouds roll into hues of rose and tangerine, purple paints the horizon as the afternoon light fades to evening's wondrous glow and the sun begins to rest at last.

in this house of broken hearts
we made our love out of stacks of cards

@Asterion <3 

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  . your company's fine but i get on better with mine
Posted by: Moira - Yesterday, 03:41 PM - Forum: The Night Court - No Replies

I paid the price and own the scars
why did we climb to fall so far ?

Lost. She should not have been lost here, not yet, as most of her time during the Spring months had been spent haunting the halls of the keep during daylight hours when so few of the court were strolling about - they preferred to come alive when night settled, and Moira was fine to read in those lively moments in a secluded corner or the topmost floors of the library. Today, she had been on the hunt for a rather notorious book on herbs, something her family had had for years and years before. It was a bit of a classic, she'd hoped on her trip here in the witching hour, but instead only dead ends met her once more. Life was a coalescing culmination of those lately, slowly the built up one by one until she was in over her head with so many routes that hadn't worked out it made her want to scream. But screaming was not fit for a Tonnerre woman - especially now that she was an adult, and a rather lovely one at that.

Still, the hours crept by as she'd devoured novel after novel, shelf after shelf, scroll after scroll, until a rather angry sigh is pushed into the world. Her eyes droop with fatigue, for she'd been out during the day to gather more herbs along the lakeside. Really it was an excuse to see the sky reflected on the calming surface. Often she wonders how something can be so still and yet stay so long? Stagnation causes a slow and terrible death, it's something she could not accept and would not allow for herself. A busy mind is key in keeping her life orderly and running smoothly. There'd always been a schedule, and now that she is in a new home she is struggling to find just that.

Did it help that Moira has yet to actually find a friend? The odds are never in her favor in that regard, for she is rather bookish and keeps her heart hidden when it could so easily be shown. She knows her mother would be brimming with sorrow at Moira's lack of expression. Gizelle was such a lively figure, and such a hard act for the girl to follow. So she'd chosen a different path, one that now leads to the pitter pattering of her feet across the stone floors, through archways and among wooden shelves and groan with every tome she lifts and swiftly replaces after having found it unsatisfactory. 

What good is a library if you cannot find what you seek? 

Another stifled sound erupts, ears flattening among braids and puns alike. Perhaps it's time for a break, she thinks glumly, looking toward the end of the floor where silence and solitude would surely meet her. Although, she doesn't really have to worry about too many others waltzing right through right now. No, the Court is most active at night, and her candlelight would draw them near, but they are alive having fun together elsewhere. So she picks up her candle once more and moves down to the end of the row, turning to a wooden table nestled near the shadows that could mask any sort of mischief (but sound would be another issue). There she sits, shoulders drooping ever so slightly as her head falls to the wooden surface and arms splay before her. "I'll just close my eyes for a moment," she whispers to no one in particular, rather surprised to hear her voice after such a long bout of silence.

@Caine silly girl is falling asleep already and hasn't even met him! Sorry this is super ambiguous and open, I'm still getting a grip on her c: let the snuggles begin 

in this house of broken hearts
we made our love out of stacks of cards

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Posted by: Florentine - Yesterday, 05:48 AM - Forum: The Dusk Court - Replies (3)


It was maybe not the most conventional place to hold a meeting, but Florentine does not seem to care. She stands, as regal as any queen might be knee-deep in a swamp’s still waters. Her tail fans out behind her, stirring algae and leaves that settle upon the surface of the pool. Her petals scatter to join them, and idly they all find a steady flow that weaves them down towards an adjacent pool, connected only by a small overflow of trickling water.
It is warm here, where Florentine waits for her court to gather. It is so warm, her skin begins to gleam with beading sweat and she glitters gold in the green and brown of this land.
The fae-girl and the water she stands in are the most still things here. All around them the swamp lives and thrives in the song of birds and insects. Flowers and lilies always rustle as animals crawl and insects fly in search of pollen. There are secrets hidden within the Swamp, brilliant flowers painted in mysterious colours and eyes, they say, that have begun to watch you from the black.
But, curiously, the queen ignores them all. She ignores the slither of something passing by her ankles, deep in the darkness of the water. She ignores also the creak and groan of vines and tree limbs that sway in an imaginary wind. Instead, Florentine watches the crown of the trees, where their leaves bend over one another and make an umbrella, thick and warm that covers the whole of the swamp. It bathes them in dank dark. A smile begins upon her lips, its meaning known only to her, though the clue is when her eyes descend to the vivid paintings drawn upon the trunks of the trees surrounding her (and her gathering court).
They were Ilati paintings, or so the fable went, and this was once their home, amidst the swamp water. So that is why she has called her court here: to embrace their history and address their future.
It is not long until they come, to the song of lapping, splashing water and rustling leaves. Gilded Florentine turns to address them, as they gather between and within the many pools of Tinea Swamp.
“You are all probably wondering why I brought you here.” The fae-queen begins, smiling, unflustered, and for the first time in a while, happy. “If you believe the fables of our land, then you might also believe that this has always been the source of our healing; a beating heart that allowed the blood of Terrastella to thrive.” Her amethyst eyes dark in the light, but brightened by their amber that catches like flames, glowing and flickering in the dark.
“This is to be a council of the past and the future. Whispers are awakening here, telling tales of things of old. Do any of you know of the Ilati?” And with that her gaze shifts to regard the trees and their fresh paintings. “Do many of you believe that they might return?” Florentine has no answer to this. She seeks no argument here, she merely asks, curious to know who might have also heard the whispers heralding the return of the Ilati…
“But, the Ilati are not the only reason I have gathered us all here. There are many.” And her eyes glitter at that, “I wish to formally inform everyone of the new ranks and also to address the unrest across Novus and discord between certain Courts. I am sure many of you have by now heard of what has transpired between the Night King, Isorath and I.” Her eyes flit to Israfel and her brother, Asterion. They were the only two she had discussed her situation with prior to now. Remorse, sorrow, fury and so many things had stayed her tongue, weighing her feelings heavy, heavy, heavy.
Florentine takes a breath, slow and soft. “I apologise for it taking me so long to hold this council, but I am here now and I will answer any questions you may have pertaining to Dusk and our position with Night and all the other courts. When that is over I wish to discuss the building of a new hospital. One of our own nearly died in an attack by the Night Court’s Crows. It was not a random attack but rather composed by Reichenbach because of what happened between him and I. The fact that Lysander came so close to death made me realize how much stronger and more informed our healing needs to be. I propose a hospital to be built here, amidst the boughs of the trees. If the fables are to be believed true, then this is the source of healing for the whole of Terrastella and I plan to harness that.”
The words trail off to the sounds of the swamp. Flora’s eyes drift over her people, one by one. “So, if any of you have any questions, on the hospital, on the Ilati, on our relationship with Night and any of the other courts, let me hear them now.”
And she waits, at last open, at last fiercely keen for what the future might hold for Terrastella.

((OOC: Okay my loves, so, feel free to have you char ask any questions in relation to the whole Reich/Flora/Isorath saga, Flora feels now is the time to get everything out in the open. Also, this is an opportunity to lay foundations more for the Ilati when they begin to come in (have a read of Dusk’s history and the Ilati lore on the Lore board if you are not sure who the Ilati are). Finally, we will be getting a sub-board which will be the hospital. I have imagined it up in the tops of the trees, like Lothlórien in LOTR. Feel free to pm me with questions or just have your char ask away.
Flora will also introduce the new ranks in this thread too! <3 ))

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  . & our paper houses reach the stars
Posted by: Moira - Yesterday, 01:15 AM - Forum: Vitreus Lake - No Replies

I paid the price and own the scars
why did we climb to fall so far ?

 Sunlight scrapes precariously over precariously hewn wings reaching for the sun that is so far away. Glinting beneath heavenly light small chains laugh gaily as the girl's feathers rustle and head tilts upward, rich amber eyes closed as she takes in one breath, and then another, and another, only to be terminated by the faintest of sighs and more sorrow spilling upon her shoulders.

  What would help Estelle?

 Sick, cold, alone. Abandoned. Clanking through her head like tanks rolling over battlegrounds, she cringes at the thought of her poor cousin whom she left to find herbs to help heal her. Was she even still alive? Worry ate at the laugh lines that were tucked into the very edge of her eyes, around the corners of her once-beaming mouth. It was detestable to have left her there, so alone in a world they did not know. But Estelle is strong, she reminds herself, thoroughly scolded (although to say calmness had returned would be a falsity even she could not commit to) and once more focused, Moira's dark lashes flutter open at last.

  Striking beauty of a woman pieced together from sunlight and stars themselves, she is a living masterpiece. Orange skin clings tightly to an arched neck and swaying hips, wraps like a lover over sparrow-boned breast and aching heart, curls like smoke about a face that darkens just enough to draw the eyes away from curious ivory marks that mar her proud chest and soaring wings, pulling ever further away from the starlight that sprouts from her sides. The phoenix woman holds herself tall despite such average stature. She does not seek to be flashy or garner unwanted attention, simply existing within the biome and living within her means.

 This new land was strange, the people she had yet to get to know personally. Caretaker. That's the title she'd been given when entering the den of artists and claiming them as her kin just as the esteemed Tonnerre's had taken Moira as one of their own when but a young girl. They'd found her alongside the lake, searching then much as she was now for Lizard Tail and Floatingheart to help create poultices and potions alike that would heal from within and without a body. It was the art she'd been taught - the life she'd chosen.

 A life of servitude was all she could offer.

 To the water she now looks, determination creeping in along the edges, wiping away the worry and unease that haunts her day and night, replacing self doubt with stone cold certainty. Moira was born for this. From a young age she'd been instructed on how to help, how to heal. It was her one gift to the world, if nothing else ever came of her.

 Many plants are in full bloom, proud to display their color (or lack of) upon the surface, even moreso to survive to be tall enough that Moira would notice them. Careful are the steps she takes forward into the pool once more, avoiding the saddened eyes she knows so well that would stare back at her should she choose to watch the girl that enters the pool just like herself. What would she find there? Every time it's the same. Bracelets from her beloved Estelle would disappear, forgotten as the woman was when Moira was working - a shame she should never get over; black and white locks held tight into braids and buns, looking much more than her four years should allow; and the face of a girl who'd left her family and all she'd ever loved.


 At the end of it all, she knew she'd find that within the heart of the woman who would stare back at her. Where did she fit in the grand scheme of things? Perhaps she'd found Denocte and the Night Court and their denizens because her heart called to the artists, the lovers, those too passionate for their skins. But she was not alive like they were - she did not truly live as they did, did she? Fire courses in their hearts, they are unafraid to proclaim love and show their creations. Moira, esteemed daughter of the Tonnerre clan, Phoenix Woman cut from the sky itself, disgraced and reborn, hated and loved. Moira... Now she was just... Moira. Caretaker for Denocte, in charge of patching up wounds, keeping the shelves stocked, and minding her own business until she was right and ready to let herself find another home that would help heal Estelle as it should her.

 She sighs again, at last meeting those accusing eyes. Traitor they say, glaring at her even though she wears no such expression upon her much more neutral visage. Brows draw tight once more, and in an unusual show of discomfort she splashes away her own reflection, refusing to look any longer at herself for fear of what more she would find. Forcefully she pushes further into the pools, feet sinking into mud, moving over rocks with algae so heavy upon their surface they seem almost covered in biofilms of slime. It is a cesspool for parasites, but these waters hold herbs she needs as well.

   code: e-cho; image: unsplash

in this house of broken hearts
we made our love out of stacks of cards

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  come down with me
Posted by: Vaella - 04-17-2018, 11:07 PM - Forum: Abigo Caves - No Replies


Golden hooves made soft clip, clop sounds as soft earth gave way to stone, and she approached the caverns with a skeptical eye. Her skin quivered in the cool air, her breath leaving her nose in puffs of white air. The small opening looked dark and uninviting, but it wasn't that the mare was worried about what might lie inside - she was hardly afraid of the dark - but she wasn't sure it looked any warmer than being outside. In the end she shrugged her elegant shoulders and slipped into the darkness. Even if it wasn't warmer, at least it would serve as some protection from the wind and rain - the clouds above looked like they were beginning to darken, and they crowded around the moon to block out its light every now and then.

The sound of her slow gait echoed in the darkness, and she was surprised to find that the caverns kept going and going. Her tail flicked back and forth, her sleek head swaying from one side to the other as she eyed up the sleek sides of the ancient walls. She knew she should stop. It would be easy to become lost in the dark, but she was intrigued. Who knew what she might find here. Or who she might find for that matter.

"speaking colour"

@Seraphina this is utter poop and I apologize xD But hey it's a starter!


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  Delete - Nevaeh
Posted by: Chrome - 04-17-2018, 09:57 PM - Forum: Deletion - Replies (1)

Deletion Request

Name: Chrome
Account(s): @Nevaeh
Reason(s): I just want to stick to one character. I have a lot of stuff going on and I don't have the time for all of these guys. She's going to a good friend of mine.
Delete or Make Inactive: Delete.
Did the character ICly step down? She never really got going.
Proof of IC Thread: N/A
Notes: Sorry everyone. Just need to focus on a few things at once. Going to be graduating and going to college. Also have three horses to take care of, so I'm a busy bee.

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