It wasn’t really that big of a surprise that he had to leave Terrastella. The urge to leave the Dusk Court behind was becoming more difficult to fight with every day that passed, and it was only Erd’s gentle pleading to ’stay’ that had kept him from just up and disappearing. If he did, his brother would follow anyway. It’s simply how they were. Yet Ard knew that Erd loved Terrastella. At least, to some degree. There were aspects about the court that neither twin much cared for, but what could they do? It wasn’t as if they were particularly important there, and their opinions meant very little.
Donned in their cloaks and cowls, they temporarily left their home behind. Ard was grateful when Erd didn’t press for him to change his mind, not this time. He just enjoyed the freedom that came with gliding along the winds with his brother at his side, wings outstretched and feathers fanned. It was invigorating and refreshing to feel the autumn breeze in his hair, and after the happenings within the last year, desperately needed.
Through the night they flew, Ard leading the charge. He did not stop until they reached the Eluetheria Plain, the vast, open grassland bathed in the deep colors of pre-dawn. The sun had yet to rise, and it was only due to that very fact that the youngest of the warlocks was capable of spotting the eerie shine in the distance. It was as though a small ball of light was emanating from down below, partially obscured by the tall grasses.
The warlock narrowed his eyes, turquoise depths peering down beneath the passing ground. What in the world…? Twisting his head around to spot Erd gliding just at his right side, he motioned down below with a nod. Although they couldn’t use words within their minds, they had always been able to tell what the other was feeling, and Ard could feel Erd’s curiosity as clear as day. He, too, had seen the eerie golden glow looming from down below.
Tilting his wings to veer around, Ard’s nimble legs stretched outwards as he made to land. Immediately the Pegasus was swallowed by the taller grasses surrounding the mysterious glowing pool, but he was able to keep sight of Erd as his twin also landed only a few paces behind him. Turning about once he had jogged to a stop, cautious to not let his wings snag on any of the tall grasses or trip on any undergrowth, Ard spun about in a flurry of taupe and silver to return to his brother’s side.
“Erd?” He beckoned, the rasp of his voice hardly. Immediately he was answered.
’I’m here,’ came his brother’s voice, from just up ahead. Stepping through some of the taller grasses, Ard offered his twin a baleful smile, relieved to see him with his wind-tousled hair and lazy, boyish grin. He nodded, reaching out to press his grey muzzle against his brother’s neck, letting out a soft breath. “Good. Did you see it? The glowing thing?” Curiosity was spurring the silvered boy to speak, but there was a strange apprehension in the air. It seemed to tingle from up the very ground, seeping up through his hooves to wind its way through his very core. The tingle of magic was familiar, and Ard was mysteriously drawn to it.
Turquoise eyes met and he shared a cautious look with his brother before winding their way through the taller grasses, knowing that the dense vegetation did quite a good job at concealing most of them.
Erd didn’t know what he had seen, off in the corner of the Eluetheria Plain. At first he had sworn that it was just his eyes playing tricks on him. Perhaps something had flared with the oncoming dawn, except, well… There was no oncoming dawn. At least not yet. Darkness was still very pertinent across Novus, bathing the land in starlight and moon-kisses. Not for much longer, however, as already the skies were beginning to grow lighter, but definitely not enough to be responsible for the thing he and his brother had seen from above.
Landing in the tall grasses and mindful of his steps, Erd sputtered as he came to a stop and pulled his wings in close to his body. He heard Ard call out a little ways up ahead and immediately answered, knowing his twin’s tendency to worry. ”I’m here.” Within seconds Ard had turned about, his face appearing through the grass concealing them. He smiled sheepishly and Erd returned it a little more brazenly, lifting his jaw with a little chuckle.
They shared a quick, intimate little embrace before Ard was turning back once more, ears perked and eyes staring off in the direction of the glowing, golden pool. Even above the tall grasses they could see the shine radiating through the air, as though someone had dug a hole and imprisoned the sun itself. The intuitive part of his brain was already working, and curiosity was pulling him after his twin almost eagerly. What could it be?
With every step he took, he could feel the magic coursing in the air. Familiar as he was to all things magical, Erd understood immediately that whatever this was carried some form of magic with it. Pressing on, undaunted by the mystery that the world had presented before them, they emerged from the thick grasses and growth to step into a large, brightly lit clearing. It was though they had stepped into daylight itself; everything was illuminated. They could see the bubbling, golden pool of liquid churning about curiously, emanating the very light they had seen from above. The ground seemed worn as though others had made their way here, and prints could easily be spotted heading both in, out, and around the mysterious pool.
“What do you think it is, Ard?” He inquired softly, turquoise eyes staring intently at the golden liquid. It was his brother’s silence that he took note of, first, and although it was strangely difficult he was able to pull his gaze away from the pool of molten liquid to instead seek out Ard. His twin, bless him, wasn’t even looking. Instead his attention was caught by a mar of vivid copper basking upon the embankment, folded up like a dead thing. It was an equine; a bright, vivid red to her coat and hairs of flaxen and charcoal, splayed across the dirt and grasses.
Immediately Ard shied closer to his brother, and Erd reached around to press his muzzle into Ard’s neck for reassurance. It’s alright, he tried to convey, knowing that even without words his twin would understand him, I’ll keep you safe. The tension in Ard’s frame seemed to relax, but his nostrils flared wide and his eyes, wide and wild, remained rooted upon the crimson equine upon the ground.
Was she dead? Alive? Had the weird golden pool done this? He had no idea, but ever so slowly did the silver messenger begin to approach, dark hooves guiding him carefully across the packed soil. Spotting a stick thanks to the sunlight-like glow surrounding the area, Erd reached out and scooped it up in his mouth, then ambled up to the maybe-dead lady and began poking the stick into her back, stretching out as far as he could without trying to get any closer than necessary. Eventually he switched so that he was wielding the stick with his telekinesis, and cleared his throat.
“Um. Excuse me? Are you dead? Do you, uh… Medical assistance. Right. Do you need medical assistance, or…?” Awkwardly, Erd glanced over his shoulder to his brother, who still stood a few feet back. Ard, the incredibly unhelpful jerk, only shrugged a shoulder and arched his brow with a look of, ’What the fuck do you want me to do?’
Letting out a huff and rolling his eyes, Erd looked back to the woman and poked her hard one last time with the stick. “Hey. Dead lady. Wake up if you aren’t dead.”
is it better to out-monster the monster or to be quietly devoured?
H
is night-black hooves drag long and low on the face of the cracked earth. If the sand were softer, like it was in summer, it would have sapped and sapped at his energy until he could tread not a step further.
But the earth carries his weight, and he walks on.
Caine's weary wings hover inches from the ground, his distaste for dirt the only thing keeping the massive things suspended. He has never hated them more.
His bones ache. A shake of the head, less fluid, less graceful than he'd normally do it, tries and fails at shaking the exhaustion from his hunched shoulders. A cicada chirps its mating song into the fathomless night, and vaguely Caine wonders if it is even the right season for cicadas to sing.
The thought does not linger. A far more pressing matter tugs at him, and he sighs. Water. How he longs for it, preferably before his mouth turns right to sand.
But there is no water. He is in the middle of the Eleutheria.
I had thought myself beyond such amateur mistakes.
Solterra is another day's trek away, at best. Caine is too tired to fly, too restless to rest. A conundrum. Lifting his eyes to the velvet-black sky, Caine exhales clouds of curling breath before a glimmer on the horizon catches the shards of his eagle-sharp gaze.
What is that?
A pool of tears, he thinks at first, with a wry smile. Once, long ago, he had believed in such things. But the boy has seen too much sorrow to believe in fairytales any longer. "If there really was such a thing," he remarks, "the world would have flooded twice over by now."
The closer he approaches, the stranger the pool appears. It glows with its own light and looks at once like gathered moonbeams, like liquid mercury. Like impossibility. Caine smells the hand of divinity long before he reaches its glimmering, glass-smooth surface.
His hooves halt just shy of the water's depths. Hasn't he had enough of wild magic, of wilder gods?
Anger, and something worse, sparks in eyes of palest silver.
His journey to Vectaeryn had been made in vain. Agenor had disappeared, his entire mansion a hulking, abandoned shadow on the shores of the Smoking Coast. No one had given him a straight answer when he'd asked where the sorcerer had gone, and he hadn't dared probe deeper for fear of drawing the wrong sort of attention.
The Prince was gone too, well and truly. Caine mourned his loss like he mourned most things — with a shrug and a darkening smile. (Perhaps one day he will learn how to mourn properly.)
And so he returns in no better shape, with no better answers. Agenor's magic still seeps in his blood, clings to his very being, like skin.
I have played my hand, and I have failed. Caine curses, once, before stepping ankle-deep into the pool of light.
Thirst, a silent monster, beckons him closer to the water's surface. He hesitates for only a moment. Then, he lowers his head and drinks.
@Random Events | "speaks" | notes: tl;dr, Caine comes across the pool on his journey back from Vectaeryn. He went in search of answers and a way to break his curse, and returns emptyhanded. Thought to explain his absence this way!
AVDOTYA
they have achieved nothing
altered nothing
and will die for n o t h i n g
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
It was unusual for Avdotya to venture too far from the ever-rolling dunes of her Solterran haunt, particularly for long periods of time... and yet it had been months since her hooves last sank in the burning sand. She missed it - she yearned for it, and now as the murmurs of a new king spread like wildfire across Novus, it was time for the viper return to her home and to her tribe. The Davke’s existence had diminished to only a threatening whisper in the wake of her departure, their presence untraceable to any but themselves. They had vanished for a reason, their revival having only been as brief as it needed to be; their vicious khan had obtained the blood she sought, set fire to the kingdom baptized by the golden waters of a boy-king’s greed. She destroyed him in every sense of the word and this vanishing act was her reward.
Now it was time she reintroduced herself to Solterra, winding her way back to it as it found itself in the hands of a new ruler. She did not know who (only that it was a him), or how, but she was certainly intent on finding out which head now wore the gilded crown of Day; it was a curse, that pretty little piece of metal. Since Zolin’s sudden and glorious death, none had seemed to survive it for long. She presumed the same fate would befall its next wearer, that coveted title of king would eventually wrap its gnarled fingers around his neck and choke the life from him just as it had his predecessors. Then, in the midst of her thoughts, Avdotya genuinely wondered what came of Seraphina. Was she dead somewhere in the sand, another rotting carcass for the vultures? Or perhaps she was still out there, suddenly finding a taste for the vengeance that the viper once had forced upon her own tongue. How foolish, she thought, one would have to be to usurp the throne and leave the silver queen’s throat uncut. She had to be dead.
As she traveled swiftly across Eleutheria with Feliks trotting steadily at her side, Avdotya’s focus was derailed by an inexplicable glow of light up ahead. It was a strange place for it to be, and even stranger that the typically knee-high grasses had quite suddenly grown tall enough to tickle her chin the closer she got. Feliks, whose curiosity was as immense as the Terminus Sea, had already bounded ahead to investigate in spite of his bonded’s wordless warning that he tread carefully. ”It’s a pond...” he informed her moments later, ”but not like any pond I have ever seen.”
When she arrived at his side, the woman quickly understood what her canid companion meant. She felt an intense draw to it, one that dried up her throat and begged her to drink regardless of her suspicions.
So Avdotya drank, oblivious to whatever magical consequences there may be awaiting her.
Mama said fulfill the prophecy, be something greater
Go make a legacy, manifest destiny
When his father had proposed a plan to go out with just the two of them and their bondeds, away from the citadel and the masses of Delumine, Regis wasn’t sure he had ever experienced a greater excitement during his short lifetime. Throughout the night prior to their departure, the young Prince struggled to find rest, getting up to quietly peek out the window to gaze across the moonlit landscape and imagine himself out there exploring it alongside his father – but just as quickly as he began to fantasize the adventure they would share, a soft but demanding noise from either Alba or Tabbris would send him scurrying back to bed.
Eventually morning came, and with it the realization that he’d have to go all day and all night without his mother. The boy’s mood faltered as they said their goodbyes, for even if they were just for a short while, Regis had never spent an extended amount of time away from her. Before the tears brimming in his eyes had a chance to fall, the yearling turned to follow after his father, but not without one last look, a final goodbye and a promise to behave.
Putting the citadel behind them until it could be seen no more, Regis took the opportunity to stretch his legs and romp about with Milo hot on his heels, the kit yipping and yowling gleefully as he darted to and fro. Regis was full of laughter and danced about his father in circles, but when their play winded down, the Prince fell into step at his father’s side and took in the scenery with curious, wondrous eyes of blue and green. Questions spilled from his lips like a river into an ocean – what was that animal called, had his father ever seen this or that before, did Somnus think his mother would be worried over them, would they see anyone else while they were gone, and so, so much more.
With time they broke from the forest and into the rolling, grassy plains to the northeast of their home. Regis was more like a deer bouncing through the grass than anything, head held high as he attempted to see over the browning grasses. It was a futile attempt, however, and with a soft noise of disappointment he shifted closer as instructed. “I bet me and Milo could find our way back,” the dun piped up, ever optimistic despite having never been in this area before, “But… I don’t wanna get separated from you, papa.”
Abruptly his father stopped in front of him, the colt clumsily running into the back of his legs with a soft, surprised ’oof!’ Beside him Milo had halted as well, and from their strengthening connection he could feel the fox’s uneasiness. Turning, Milo hunkered down then leapt up onto Regis’ back for a better vantage point. Regis’ ears tipped to the outside and then forward, and moving just a little closer when Somnus spoke, the yearling squinted to try and see better – but of course, it didn’t help given his scrawny height. “… No,” he said with a shake of his head, “I don’t see anything. And neither does Milo.”
Together they progressed, and thank Oriens the grasses gave way for him to see. Indeed there was a strange glow emanating from a pool of water, and upon spotting it the boy gave a soft gasp. His eyes grew wide and he took three hurried steps closer before remembering his promise to be good, and from there he matched pace with his father. When they reached the edge of the pool, Regis lowered his head to better inspect it. His reflection was crystal clear, so much so that it looked like it could jump out of the water and join him at any moment. He would have entertained the thought further if not for the sudden, excruciatingly dry sensation that filled his throat, and without warning his ribs rattled with a cough just as the same happened to Somnus. To be completely honest, Regis was frightened for a moment that his father would see it as a sign of his sickness coming back and they’d have to turn back around – but oddly enough, he had coughed in the same manner at the same time, too.
Regis looked on in mild fear as his father began to enter the strange pool, but… against his worries, nothing happened. “Inane?” He repeated as though not understanding the word, his little face scrunching, “Do you mean… insane?”
Looking back down into the cool liquid, the colt shifted closer at his father’s gentle urgings and outstretched a single hoof to paw at the edge as though testing it. Gingerly he took his first step into it, followed by a second, third and then fourth until he summoned all of his courage and plunged himself in after his father. His weight send the water up in a splash, droplets raining down on them and splattering across the rippling surface and across his face. Unlike his father, he could only barely touch the ground and was on the verge of swimming, but where fear had once been joy now reigned, laughter on his lips.
***STAFF EDIT
@Regis has rolled a 3 and has been cursed! Being around the brightness of the water has caused temporary vision issues. This may be fuzziness around the edges, the ability to see auras instead of the details of their surroundings. For half of an IC season (one RL month), he will have difficulty seeing.
IF YOU STAND FOR NOTHING, WHAT WILL YOU FALL FOR? ♛ all contact and force is allowed at any time, sans godmodding and powerplay
It wasn’t uncommon for Ulric to travel so far from Delumine’s capitol building, even in the dark of night – but the eerily glowing pool of water sitting right in front of him, shining like a beacon against the backdrop of a midnight plain, was.
The cogs of his mind didn’t have to grind for him to know that this hadn’t been here in the past. Over the past years he had spent living here, he believed he knew every square inch of Oriens’ territory. Hell, he was confident he could run patrols with a blindfold on (even if that would be defeating the purpose of a patrol) and never miss a step.
Yet here this vexing pool was, taunting him and briefly making him wonder if he was just seeing things. The longer he looked at it, the more infuriating it became. He could most certainly run back to the capitol and report on it before investigating, which would probably be the wise decision on the off chance the pool was dangerous and somehow killed him, but it wouldn’t be the Ulric decision.
Marching up to the edge of the pool, the Warden inspected the scene with a scathing glare. Oddly enough, it felt noticeably more humid where he stood beside it, and as much as he absolutely hated it he felt inexplicably drawn to it. With a dose of caution and a brief thought of just how stupid he was, Ulric took a step into the pool. It was indeed warm to the touch, and although only one hoof was currently submerged, the idea of going even deeper grew increasingly tantalizing.
Throwing caution to the wind, the roan moved into the pool, the warmth soaking beyond the skin and seeping into sore, tired muscles, Ulric laughingly thought to himself that if this pool were to somehow bring his end, at least it would be relaxing.
Deep in the wilds of Novus, the magic lay in wait. Perhaps it had followed her… or perhaps there is old magic here too, twisted and forged from time itself. There is a stillness to the day that seemed to beckon her here, and there is an almost constant tug at her psyche… just like in the Rift… just like when the magic would flare and wreak havoc on their lives. So she answered the feral call, drawn toward the magic with a greedy curiosity. She knows to stay away, because she knows the magic can burn and twist your very soul… and yet she has to see it for herself.
The glade where the cursed pool lay had been visited before, petals and brambles worn flat by frequent passerbys. She smells them as she nears the golden pool, but does not see any in the immediate vicinity. Watching for a moment, the blue-black Pegasus has to wonder if the magic had eaten them whole, or if they lived to tell the tale. Either way, she wouldn’t’ be surprised… magic is a fickle thing, and one which is prone to do as it pleases with little regard for humanity. And then, she draws a steadying breath before stepping into the clearing herself to lay eyes upon the molten water.
It bubbles with a playful sort of nature, begging the viewer to come closer… and immediately Mephisto is struck by a thirst which burned like fire in her throat. It’s a trick, she tells herself, trying to fight through the fog that began to creep over her. She ignores the whispers that urge her to take a drink, that if only she sipped the golden liquid she would banish away the burn. But Mephisto knows better than to let the magic touch her lips. Instead, she simply steps toward it and sniffs at the briny surface, tipping one hoof into the water and finding it a pleasantly warm sensation.
And then she reaches into a small satchel at her side, drawing out a thin vial and collecting some magic within it… just in case it might come in handy later.
Thana comes to the water like a lion. Her steps through the grasses and the black-stone are near silent (for each withers to dust and rot at her touch). Here her horn hardly sings in the wind and as if even that bone upon her brow knows that this is not the time to rejoice in its existence apart from the vicious rift-magic.
Now is the time for hunting.
The water spreads out before her like a sun and she cannot help but stare until her eyes ache with the brightness. It looks like home, this pool of water with magic spread through it like oil. It looks like that not-water that made her and it tastes like salvation when she bares her teeth against the ache of too much light.
She moves closer and closer and the world dissolves like eons have passed underneath the sickle blade of her tail. Her thoughts do not stray to religions or gods or water. Thana thinks only of hunger, of want, of that nameless fury boiling and boiling inside of her. And still the water draws her closer and her throat doesn't feel dry but full. She feels like there is an ocean living in the crevices of her throat, her bones, her belly, her soul.
She feels like she is a deep ocean of purpose that has no name or direction.
Even when the water laps over her hooves Thana does not stop moving further and further into that bright and almost blinding light. She pauses once to wonder that the water lapping at her skin doesn't dry up in that hollow, wanting void around her. That should have turned her steps back towards the shore but it doesn't-- oh it doesn't.
Thana takes a single breath that is deeper than her last and submerges herself under the water. It feels like coming home.
The water starts to sing as it fills the cracks in her horn.
Pomona had been urging Pavetta to exercise more, but the young dragon was not exactly the most encouraging of fitness coaches. You are getting fat, Pomona insisted innocently, after prodding a tender spot on Pavetta's plump flank. Lazy. Need more exercise..
And that is how the pair came to be in Eluetheria Plain…exercising.
Pavetta’s breathing was more labored than she would like to admit (much to her chagrin), her limbs already numb with exhaustion. But if felt good. It was hard. It had been a long time since she had challenged herself physically and the elation thrumming through her veins gave her heart wings. She had not felt so free of worries in some time. Not since she and Pomona had found one another.
They had fallen into an easy sort of rhythm, as if they had known each other their entire lives, instead of just a few short weeks. They shared the same fire and passion of youth, the same sense of adventure and longing for new places and new people. It was almost as natural to hear Pomona’s wind-chime voice in her mind as it was to hear her own thoughts; as easy as breathing.
Which at the moment, was not particularly easy. Pomona soared overhead effortlessly and Pavetta could not help thinking that this exercise regimen seemed a little one-sided. Sweat-lathered her flanks and neck as she galloped through the autumn grass, frost biting at her ankles and underbelly. The foggy morning was crisp and cold, but Pavetta found she was thirsty, thirstier than she should be. I need to stop, Pavetta said to Pomona at last, staggering to a slow walk.
Water ahead! Pomona flipped happily in the air and soared on ahead, leaving Pavetta behind in a huffing, sweating mess navigating through a tall grass maze.
By the time Pavetta reached the water source, Pomona was already swimming happily and contentedly in the small pool, blowing bubbles and chortling to herself. But it was not just any pool…no…Pavetta frowned. A feeling of wrongness in her heart, of ancient and otherworldly power. It was like the time she had witnessed the sun god’s rebirth on the mountain. Her throat burned now, aching for a drop of water…No, I mustn't...she found herself at the water’s edge, staring into the depths…
And before she knew it she was drinking deeply.
(Visiting when the area is empty)
a pearl in pigshit, a diamond on the finger of a rotting corpse,
creature in whom nothing, but nothing, remains of an elven woman ---
worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies
I'll tell you my sins & you can sharpen your knife
the devil lives in her dreams. her nights were long and restless. when she wakes from her slumber, she wakes to the noise of rustling silk curtains upon her bedroom window, as black chiffon lace twists against the icy calamity lingering upon the evening breeze. soon, the moonlight turns red with her hunger and with restless abandon, euryale calantha, leaves the luxuriant folds of terrastella's citadel to venture upon a MIDNIGHT hunt with lilith. she descends from the window sill; a feral maiden, who'd only known the wilderness; lilac hair, spilling wild and pale upon her breast.
HER PHYSIQUE MELTS INTO THE blackness, into the VOID. FOLLOWING THE PATHWAY TOWARDS Eluetheria plains, as her hunt for elk takes her and lilith deeper into the night. ALONG THE WAY SHE SAVOURS THE CRISP TANG OF FALL. The chill of its vesper kiss. SHE BREATHES IN THE EVENING AIR; A VAPOROUS FRAGRANCE, RICH IN SICKLY SWEET AROMA. Soon, RAIN BECOMES THE TRANSIENT caress. BREATHING DOWN HER NECK, Her waist, her back. THEY MIST ABOVE THE CURVE OF HER SPINE. DESCENDING HER BODY, AS SOFT DEW MIGHT TRAVEL AGAINST THE CURVED PETALS OF A wild rose. she relishes the feeling; the kissing bite of autumn's touch, the chilling grasp of its hold, like the long-awaited embrace of a winter lover.
o beneath the stars, the wolves move silently as one. euryale's carmine body prowls beneath the throbbing lull of moonlight, beneath its softly-glowing celestial aura; the moon, dancing upon her flesh with all the hungering lambency of a blade; accentuating every crimson-curve of euryale, laced in fire and passion and blood. with hungry sighs, the wind and rain ravages their lithe forms. yet both euryale and lilith pushes forward, drawn towards the sudden mysterious light that pulses upon the earth. its cadence like a pounding heartbeat. the bewitching ambiance of its aureate glow. the blinding spell of its unbearable heat. all of it, festers brightly beneath the midnight gloom. and as the pond finally pulls into full view, lilith raises her hackles and emits a low raspy growl. be wary. euryale feels its warm radiance and sighs with longing, instead. it is acid-white and hot and illuminating. beckoning euryale closer. closer. closer still.
"mmm."
she murmurs to herself. her voice breathless and satin. her gaze alight with curiousity. she draws nearer. her bodice coiling upon the earth, with all the hunger of a serpent. the pull of the water drums at her temple, coaxing her to lay lavish within its liquid embrace. she feels the sudden urge to slake her thirst; so drink she does. leaning over to glide her smooth tongue across the surface of the pool, regardless of the consequences.
the only heaven i'll be sent to
is when i'm alone with you
