[P] ORENDA

[Marisol]

THE ARCHIATER.

Strange omens had gathered at the end of the streets. They might have been sent by Tempus or by Vespera, but either way they carried with them a supernatural chill. Feline shadows with crepuscular purple eyes, the sound of flying where there were no birds, or still-decaaying piles of ash and iridescent cracked glass. Even worse, Mari had seen her old selves walking the Court, sleekly built and short-haired and sempiternally youthful, and they were the last straw, what had turned her away from the inner city in an aggravated, cold-blood frenzy.

For the most part, she tried to think of them - her old selves - as little as she could. It didn’t do much good. Plus (and perhaps more importantly) she didn’t even really recognize them now, those small, dark girls who didn’t wear any scars, nor the mark of the Commander, which she wore every day, now, in three thick white lines over the back of her wing; they were innocent, and unafraid, and in conjunction worlds apart from where Mari stood now, psychologically speaking.

She had to shake that thought from her mind forcefully, but she managed it, as she had learned to manage everything. After years it had become easy. Pacing a long, winding track through the still-blooming fields near the edge of the cliff, Mari walks with her wings half-extended and head low to her chest. Worry crawls in her head like a wild thing. What are the regimes discussing now, so far away on the summit, and do the gods watch? Are they watching now?

Of course. It would be sacrilege to think otherwise.

When she hears the quiet approach of another Terrastellan, Marisol pauses in place and tilts her head to look, gray eyes wide and steely in the oncoming dark. By Her hand, comes the murmured greeting, and once again she falls silent.

@Theodosia

[Theodosia]

HE MOTIONED ME TO THE SKY,

Beneath the autumn sun, the young pegasus gleamed golden, reflecting opalescent light from her pale coat. A minute twitch of her wings sent her racing headlong towards the cliffs from where she had been lazily hanging in the sky, legs tucked against her chest and laughter bubbling in her throat -- oh, how good it felt to stretch her wings on such a fine day. An extension of her wings, and she swooped across the still-green grass, barely dragging a hoof over it just because she could -- there was no watchful Dam to worry and fuss over her, to chide her for such careless stunts.

She lands with a dull thump upon the ground, her wings tucking close to her body as she does so. She’s as ready as she thinks she’ll ever be to chase the legend she’d followed here, to join amongst the ranks of the Halcyon, and if her internal compass (and the description she’d been given) are correct, she’s entered into the realm of the Dusk Court where the Halcyon Unit dwelled.

She’s sure she’ll be stumbled upon soon, if by patrol or by happenstance, and so her pace is slow and unhurried -- she’s a foreigner in a strange land, and she knows all too well how easily being such a thing could lead to certain accusations. Most of which were true, if the Gang were involved, but, well, if people wanted their things to stay where they belonged they should have taken better care of them.

Dusk is beginning to fall when she spots the figure of another, and she takes a moment to appreciate the fine coincidence before a soft smile crosses her lips. “Greetings,” She murmurs back before her head tilts to the side slightly, her ears flicking forward at attention. “Perhaps you could help me -- I’m seeking the Dusk Court, and their Halcyon Unit.”

I HEARD HEAVEN & THE THUNDER CRY.

[Marisol]

THE ARCHIATER.

Were Marisol a lesser soldier, she might have bristled at the approaching stranger. Puffed up or backed off or started in on the girl angrily. As is, she stifles her suspicions and watches with an expression of, if not friendliness, at least welcoming. The girl that approaches is slender and pale and doesn’t seem to be threat, but Mari does note the wings plastered to her side with a sort of subtle approval, the feathers on her own, much darker pair fluttering in the faint breeze.

She expects the girl to introduce herself, or maybe to ask, in earnest concern, what’s going on and where she landed. (Confusion’s been a common thread in the last few strangers Marisol has intercepted.) But when the girl speaks, soft and sweet, it is not only with knowledge of the Dusk Court but of Halcyon.

Mari blinks.

It might be the most obvious expression of surprise anyone’s ever seen on her. For the most part Marisol is calculated, is cool, is in control; obvious  emotion is rare at best. It’s sort of her job to be stoic. But it’s been months, years, maybe, since someone approached her about the unit rather than the other way around, and she can’t help the twinge of surprise in her chest, nor the warmth that follows as she realizes word of the unit must have spread beyond their borders for the first time in a long time. Not even the last commander saw such infamy, and he was supposed to be the best.

Perhaps Mari has succeeded at something.

A rare, bright smile crosses her lips, then disappears as quickly as it came. You’ve found both, Marisol answers, and maybe her voice is a touch warmer than it was initially - but who’s to say. I am Marisol, Commander of the Halcyon Unit… As she speaks, one huge, glossy wing extends outward and sweeps toward the ground, tilted low enough for the girl to see the three broad strokes painted in bright white across her feathers. The marker of Marisol’s status, though the stranger might not know it. And you?

@Theodosia

[Theodosia]

HE MOTIONED ME TO THE SKY,

The slightest of breezes ruffles against her pale feathers as the two strangers stare each other down for a long moment, the foreigner searching for any sign of unwelcome and finding none. Her stance relaxed just slightly -- still alert and wary, but less likely to be mistaken for aggression. She is pleased to be welcomed as such, to have it subtly affirmed to her that the court she had chosen was likely the best choice she could have made.

To have found the Commander was only luck, it seemed, but it is a hand she is glad to play. “I had heard of the Halcyon Unit in my travels,” She explained to the not-so-obvious surprise, briefly adjusting how her wings lay across her sides so that she could be more comfortable. “A man who had claimed to be part of the Unit.” He had had one dark wing strapped in a sling, scars scattered across his body, and he’d told his stories in a measured tone that held depths of reverence and sadness both. She’d been enraptured by his tales, especially that of Halcyon himself -- how could she deny such a call to duty when her heart had practically demanded it of her?

One leg extends, her head dipping down until it nearly brushes her knee. “An honor to meet you, Commander,” She murmurs, eyes bright as she peers up at the dusky mare. “Theodosia Valois, at your service.”

I HEARD HEAVEN & THE THUNDER CRY.

@Marisol

[Marisol]

THE ARCHIATER.

As the sky fills with color overhead, Marisol falls deeper and deeper into the trap of wanting.

She wants this girl to join Halcyon. She wants for their meeting to continue going well. She wants to stay in this moment, where nothing is expected her, where no danger lurks just around the corner, where everything is easy and fruitful and just within reach, and it is this wanting that overwhelms her as she meets the girls’ eyes with her own gaze, a warm, molten silver. 

It is more wanting than she has felt in ages. More of anything, really, than she has felt in ages.

A man who claimed to be part of the unit… she flicks back through a host of memories from her days as in training, failed cadet after failed cadet returning in shame to the Dusk Court, and the few that did make it through were bitter and emburdened by the time they’d earned their strips. Mari’s not sure any one of them is still with her now. And whatever ex-soldier this girl has met might well be from before Mari’s time, a relic of a more honorable age she was never lucky enough to experience.

Then Theodosia dips into a bow, and Marisol is so taken aback she nearly smiles, a ghost of happiness that flickers over her face and dissipates again. Rise, Theodosia, murmurs the Commander. All Halcyon soldiers stand on equal footing.

With that, she raises her head and gestures over the horizon toward the foggy skyline of the Dusk Court. Purple light envelops them now. Come. Extending the edge of a wing to graze Theo’s spine gently, she turns, now facing the city, and starts forward with slow, purposeful strides. It pleases me that word of Halcyon has spread so far - and again that specter of a smile, as quick to come as it is to leave. Terrastella has need of new cadets.

@Theodosia

[Theodosia]

HE MOTIONED ME TO THE SKY,

She rises with pride swelling in her breast and her first hurdle apparently passed with flying colors, a quiet sort of satisfaction blossoming across her face. There would be many more tests before she could officially call herself a member of the Halcyon Unit, she’s sure of it -- after all, she highly doubted they allowed just anybody with wings to join a Unit that was claimed to be as elite as they were.

To do so would be to dishonor their namesake, at the very least.

Her pale gaze focuses on the setting sun and the creeping dusk, on the city in the distance that beckons to her as clearly as any siren. This is her home now, amongst the violet skies, and she finds a sort of peace in the thought of belonging somewhere. A soft shiver graces her spine at the touch of another, and she follows as beckoned with her head at the commander’s shoulder, wings held loosely at her sides.

“When I first heard the tale of Halcyon, Terrastella called to me,” She murmurs back, her leonine tail giving a lazy swish as though to ward away the flies that gathered on her haunches despite the casual movement. “I am honored to be considered as one of your cadets.”

I HEARD HEAVEN & THE THUNDER CRY.

@Marisol kinda short sorry!

[Marisol]

THE ARCHIATER.

As they begin their trek to the capitol, the craggy surface of the cliff underfoot turns to soft dirt; the previously sparse purple grasses seem to shoot up, until they brush gently against the lowest part of Marisol’s chest; a sea-salt stained breeze goes whispering across the plains as they move away from the rolling, churning tide and deeper into the Susurro Fields, filled with lavender flowerbuds and autumn-shed greenery. It is at this time of day that the beauty of Terrastella is most amplified, and the girls are free to bask in it.

As much as Marisol wishes that their conversation could continue as easily as it has been, when Theodosia speaks of becoming a cadet, she knows there is much more that needs to be discussed.

The Commander exhales in a quiet huff. She thinks back to her own training - the bruises that silvered her side for weeks on end, the tiny gray scars that still litter her skin, the scent of tears and sweat and blood that followed her regardless of how many times she bathed it off in the swamp. Even now, it is not an easy life to live: always running, always hair-raised, always looking for imminent danger. The three stripes glazed on the back on the back of her wing are their own sort of ghosts.

Induction is difficult, she starts, raspy voice drifting from dark lips in a low hum. And long. From cadet to soldier is a year and a half of training, at least - partially general, partially rank-specific. How do you wish to serve? Marisol glances over at the girl. Messenger, fighter pilot, healer? Something about Theodosia’s nimble feet and the leonine dexterity of her tail makes the Commander think she would be best suited as a soldier, but she would never say as much: if Mari knows anything, she knows not to judge a girl by her looks.

Others who made that grave mistake have suffered at her hand.

@Theodosia

[Theodosia]

HE MOTIONED ME TO THE SKY,

She isn’t afraid of training, of hardship -- she’s used to the physical exertion of a fight, her pelt marked with barely-visible silver scars and nicks that speak to her time spent at Elysium’s side. She hasn’t come here expecting to be immediately made a soldier, and she’s unsurprised by the length of time that Marisol gives her -- and, immediately, she’s determined to be promoted faster than the norm, to become so excellent in her role here that it becomes obvious.

“Fighter,” She replies without any hesitation, something fierce and wild and wanting in her voice. She has, perhaps, been on this path since birth without ever being able to see where it headed -- a lifetime of remembering how carelessly her Dam had been treated by the one who had claimed to care for him, how frail he had remained even after the Gang had rescued them. Her Sire had stolen something from her Dam, something the young stallion had never been able to regain, and her heart ached at the thought of allowing anyone else to feel so small.

Surrounded by the tall lavender grass, she turns and pins Marisol with a serious gaze, one far more determined than anyone her age had any right to be. Her leonine tail curls over her back, the very tips of the hair brushing against her back, and in the dying light of the day there is an air about her as though she is a wild creature that might not be tamed.

“I’m ready to begin my training whenever you are, Commander.”

I HEARD HEAVEN & THE THUNDER CRY.

@Marisol

[Marisol]

THE ARCHIATER.

Something about the steely resolve in Theodosia’s steps assures Marisol that she’s up to the challenge of training. There are very few who have an interest in it, fewer still who can actually handle it when it  starts - but the fierceness in the newcomer’s voice says she’ll do it, no matter the cost and the blood and the time she’ll spend beaten down, and Mari admires her for it. Two sides of the same coin. She sees much of herself reflected in that purple gaze, in the resolve that ripples under her skin like water.

And so when Theo responds with an immediate fighter, the Commander is as pleased as she is unsurprised.

Mari meets the cadet’s gaze with a molten-gray stare that is both cold and impressed, dark lashes beating away the pollen that washes over them in the breeze, short hair ruffled, wings still pinned to her sides. The world around them unfolds in cacophonous possibility - sun bleeding into the saturated sky, the field they stand in endless and awe-inspiring. Tomorrow, she begins, voice smoky in the cool air, Come to the steppe at noon. Half a day’s flight that way - Mari gestures with a toss of her head across the inlet of the Terminus Sea, where the Steppe looms tall but shrouded in fog, and fixes Theodosia with a gaze so intense it pierces. And we’ll start. Don’t be late. 

She dips her head ever so slightly, then begins her trek back to the Dusk Court.

@Theodosia

[Theodosia]

HE MOTIONED ME TO THE SKY,

She is unaware of how closely she resembles the Commander she stands before, full of fire and a steely resolve that has been forged by hardship -- she can only be made stronger in the face of the challenges that the Halcyon training promises her. She can see her future stretching out before her in the brilliance of the sunset that backdrops them, in the thick lavender grasses that brush across her chest and tickle at the curve of her neck, and she knows somewhere in her soul that this is where she needs to be.

“Noon tomorrow,” She repeats as a promise, her gaze turning towards the Steppes and making a note of the location. She has no intentions of being late, not to the first day of her official training, and there’s a spark of excitement in her eyes as she watches the Commander begin the trek back to Dusk Court.

She waits until Marisol is out of sight to leap into the air with a kick of her back legs, unable to repress her joy at the meeting having gone better than she could have ever dreamed. Tomorrow, she was going to be an official cadet of the Halcyon unit!

I HEARD HEAVEN & THE THUNDER CRY.

@Marisol annnnd fin!