[P] tired of hanging around here [florentine]

[Rannveig]

It had been some time since she visited the lands of the Fields, a once-bustling place in the confines of Terrastella; the simple beauty in the way nature seemed to just pass around them was incomparable to any other place in Novus. And so she had found herself roaming toward the openness of the orange-tinged grasses, a place she was promised the quiet tranquility that the Dusk Court was known for. The setting sun held her close as the sky turned colors and gathered nighttime clouds close, the rising moon already showing itself in.

Her body was a solitary post in the grand expanse of the darkening world.

It was there that she waited for the company of the young winged spark; the girl's name had been hanging on the lips of everyone she touched, and it was then Rann's turn to let it slip loose. She knew, before long, Florentine would find her there waiting. She trusted the knowledge the younger mare had gathered in her visits across the continent; the breeze, too, carried rumors of restlessness in her movements and discontent with the subtlety of her current court. Rann could only smile at the activity and flame that burned in the girl's heart.

She knew, too, that with the conclusion of the meeting she was running out of time to fill the ranks required to keep the Dusk Court together. And though there were some that gave her pause, her heart softened at the idea of Florentine--the girl, in some way, called to the younger side of Rann. So there, alone in the wide range of falling skies and rising earth, she had but one offer for the girl who could be not more fitting for the role of Emissary.

And all our problems make us powerless

this one's for you bby!
the position of emissary is florentine's if she'll have it <33
@Florentine

[Florentine]

f l o r e n t i n e

     It was fitting the Terrastellan girls should reunite beneath a sky lost in the final throes of dusk. As she goes, Florentine does not lift her eyes to gaze at the broken blues and ravaging reds that sweep across the fretful sky. If she did, she may wonder of the ever painful dying of the day.
 
Rannveig stands in the heart of the fields, her body the mirror of the star-strewn night and day bright sky above. Shadows descend upon her, bathing her in murky light and bruised purples. For all the drama of the dying day, Flora walks with steady ease towards her sovereign. Her name had been called in starlight and whispers, so barely heard it may have only been made of shadow. Yet the flower girl had heeded Rannveig's call and roused herself from her considerations of gods and temples.
 
Painted in the gold of a sun’s parting light, the dusk girl comes to rest beside her queen. Only then to her amethyst eyes tilt up to add purple to the fading skies. Her body is all muscle sore and bone weary. Even the flowers of her mane have begun to blink closed, anticipating the impending rest of night. Her wings and limbs ache for the day’s discoveries (of gods and awkward boy interactions), but her heart beats a strong, keen and fierce, tattoo against her breast. It will not rest easy this night, so filled as it is with worries of gods and buoyed by its unsinkable spirit.
 
Finally her eyes fall from the dusk strewn sky to settle upon her leader. “I am not sure I will ever get over the sunsets here.” She remarks softly. Much the same as she would never get over the beauty of the night in Denocte… Florentine could only yearn to see the gold of sunlight in Solterra, or the blue-gold haze of dawn in Delumine. Her heart leaps with their calling. She would go to them – how could she not?

@Rannveig - of course Flora accepts, thank you <33

this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

[Rannveig]

When her chosen pick for Emissary crossed into the breeze-blown grasses of the Field, the sky was settling itself into the beginning hours of night. There was a silence that could only stem from a dying day and the solitude of being in such an open place alone, without the words of conversation or multiple breaths from simply being. It was Rann and the world, and that was all she needed to keep going.

With Florentine's arrival, Rannveig didn't move as she was approached from behind. She was a statue there, blinking against the harshness of the dying sun rays and letting her mind wander further than the horizon. There was not one single thing that passed through the web of her thoughts, instead a blanket of overall contempt settling over it; their court was turning around for the better, and she could only hope that those she wished to make their system even stronger would accept the roles she wanted for them.
So as wings rustled with the movements the young girl made, Rann's lips slipped into a small smile with the comfort of added company she desired. There was mutual silence, shared enjoyment, as they stood beside one another (and perhaps she realized for the first time that the pegasus girl was taller than she thought as she stopped directly next to her). She was a growing figure, soft strength beneath the downy feathers upon her back, and Rann felt pride wrapping around her ribs to press against her heart.

Words broke open into the air and Rann gave a soft sigh, thoughts moving toward what it must have been like to feel such a pull for adventure. "Good. Do not let that get away from you." Her mostly painted face turned to Florentine, nordic accent lilting around them. She paused. "If you wish, you may wear title of Emissary." Teal-green eyes lingered over the features of her, before placing themselves back to the sky. She knew there was a call in Flora's heart, one that begged to be answered to be shown all that Novus had to offer. And she wondered, for a moment, if she could have been like her had she not cared about the gender she was born.

Her voice remained soft, but there was the sound of seriousness lingering in her words. "Find yourself. Satisfy the urges of your heart. Go, and show them all you are of Dusk. Tell them that we are a Court once again." And wherever it was that Florentine ended up, she would know she carried the protection of Rannveig upon her shoulders.

And all our problems make us powerless

@Florentine

[Florentine]

f l o r e n t i n e

Rannveig was carved from the night. Her body a mold of the star-dusted sky and warm sunshine glow blended together. In the dimming light her sun-gold skin had faded, muted by shadow into the smudged colour of night-lit cloud.
Florentine took a breath, a small but reverent thing, for she was quite struck in that moment by the way feminine beauty and authority married so perfectly within the Dusk Queen. Maybe this was something the flower girl could aspire to? If only she could tame her wild heart…
 
The west wind blew, galloping its way towards the setting sun and it tugged at Flora. It whispered and laughed its sea-sprite laugh into her honey ears and beckoned her out to sea. Oh to chase that sun and find where dusk truly ended and night truly started! But she doesn’t, though her heart begins to beat harder and her limbs feel restless against the binds of formality.
 
But then Rannveig’s offer overwhelms the whispering winds and Florentine falls as still as stone. Her body is silent, even her heart falls still. Words are robbed, not just from her tongue but her mind too. Emotions, normally so vibrant, scatter and leave the dusk girl so oddly numb.
 
“Well that is a surprise,” Florentine bleats. She lets a silence descend then, so thick with newly cultivated thought. This was nothing that she wanted or aspired to…
 
“Is this a wise move?” She asks slowly, suddenly doubting, not just the sanity of her queen, but also her ability to make sensible decisions. A toe digs and snuffs its was into the dirt, an oddly childish gesture for a girl adorned in the glory of early womanhood. Slowly her eyes lift to Rannveig, questioning amethyst meeting serious sea-green. It seems the queen was deadly serious, oh dear.
 
The smell of lavender and rosemary rises from her skin, a dignified smell, utterly at odds with the whispered confession that chases her earlier question. “You do know I have a terrible memory and do not have a political bone in my body?” Then, after a moments pause, because she may as well lay it all on the line now and make sure Rannveig (since she had obviously taken leave of her senses) is as informed as possible… “I like to party too much in the Night Court...”
 
But then comes Rannveig’s great commission and its preceding observation. There is more dirt nudging from Florentine’s toe as she wishes she had not been quite so forthcoming with her confessions. It seemed the queen had sharper eyes than Florentine gave her credit for. Maybe the young mare of flowers was not the only one adept as a little spying now and again. Or maybe Rannveig was just intuitive, a good read of character…
 
Either way, the words shiver their way along the curves of the dusk girl’s spine and curl their way into her heart. There they light a spark and an inferno begins to swell. “I will.” She says whisper quiet but as firmly as stone. For what else was there to say?
 
“I have quite wanted to visit Solterra…”
 
Ah, that. 

@Rannveig 

this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

[Rannveig]

And though it was the two there, sitting side by side in their day's dying sunlight, she felt a comfort as if surrounded by those of her Winter Court; Florentine and all her girlish figure was as much family to her as her own people had been. And as their relationship would develop, she wasn't sure where Florentine's heart would lay--would she be pulled across the lands of Novus to settle elsewhere? Would she wander, never claiming a court as home? Rann was unsure what path the girl would take knowing that she had the support of her sovereign behind her no matter the decision; it would affect her, no question, but how much to lose her Emissary?

She was quiet as the words sank in around them, the pegasus as still as their statues. She looked easily toward the sun as the time passed and it sank it's way down below the horizon. She kept herself still while Florentine worked through the thoughts plaguing her, a swarm of concerns surely overtaking every inch of her mind. With her squeaked confession and question of Rann's decision, she merely turned her painted face toward her with a smile and nodded gently, sticking her nose against her cheek before pulling away.

The girl continued as the flowers in her hair drifted petals to the grass below. "'Politics.'" She scoffed quietly, mimicking the word. But with the next sentence a laugh slipped out between them, wholehearted and genuine. It seemed, for a reason not spoken aloud, the admission did not come as a surprise to Rann. Either she had already guessed Florentine's wanderlust heart had made its way into the arms of the Night Court, or it had found itself locked away in the throws of adventure somewhere else.

They turned serious as she let the girl know of her full intentions to protect her no matter where she roamed. Her own heart might have ached at the thought of needing to come through on her words, but conversation drifted again toward another court. "If that is where you end, may Vespera watch you." A usually sharp-rounded voice was delicate, placing the words like feathers around Florentine's body. She had no idea of the current state of the Day kingdom; had they, like Dusk and Night, found some way to start pulling their strings together? "Inform me of their leadership. Let them know of ours."

Gentle features put themselves once again onto her companion as she nudged the thickness of her neck with her muzzle. "Leave me now, Emissary. We will meet where the gods speak."

And all our problems make us powerless

@Florentine // on to the next thread at the peak!! <3

[Florentine]

florentine
 
The touch of Rannveig’s muzzle to her cheek was like the brush of a hand, comforting and soothing. It eased Florentine’s worried heart and for a moment its wild fluttering paused, then slowed.
 
Rannveig’s touch was fleeting, gone as swiftly as a hummingbird’s wings, yet Flora still feels its touch endure. The warmth in her chest has not abated, the swell of a love beyond that of just a servant within her stomach. That is what it is, is it not?
 
Florentine’s smile is radiant, bright and brilliant, when she turns toward Rannveig. “Ah, you may regret telling me that.” She says chirpily, laughter chasing the words even whilst a darker feeling stirs within her abdomen. If Florentine knows what is to come, what revelations lie in wait for her within the dark of the night, she may not have been so amused by Rannveig’s offer. She may have taken the queen’s words a little more seriously…
 
There is not much time to linger on these thoughts, however, for the queen is already charging her Emissary with her first tasks. The flower girl nods slowly, obediently. It would never be a challenge, going to the other courts, learning their ways, meeting their people. It was what the twilight girl lived for, it is what she craved. And as she drinks in Rannveig’s body of daylight and starlight, she begins to wonder just how astute the warrior queen was. For already she seemed aware of the flower girl’s wayward heart.
 
It is too bad Florentine herself is not aware, as maybe, just maybe, she would know to guard herself in future encounters…
 
There is another touch, a gentle push to her nape that draws Florentine’s amethyst gaze from the grasses. Meet where the gods speak. The girl blinks slowly, terribly slowly. It sounded like an intervention – was she ready to believe in gods?
 
She takes a step towards the Dusk Queen as she pulls back, her own muzzle reaching to press fondly against Rannveig’s warm cheek. It was a mirror gesture, a return of affection. The queen was becoming more than just a monarch – she was a friend, a sister in arms.
 
Flora steps back, offering a smile, a playful nod of the head, before she is gone in a flurry of petals and feathers.

@Rannveig - ended this, I shall go to ask for our signo redemption! <3
 

[sid]

STAFF EDIT*** @rannveig and @Florentine have both claimed signos for completing this thread.