Israfel
The call was unmistakable. In another life, she had heard many just like it. It was a beckon, a summons, a call of immediate gathering, and Israfel knew better than to disobey.
She had yet to meet those in charge of Terrastella. Come to think of it, she really hadn't met many that called the Dusk Court their home, preferring to keep to herself and tend to her duties, both obligatory and personal. It was a train of thought that was spurred by destructive self-consciousness, self-criticisms, and mental hangups, but she was trying. The Sun Daughter was trying to assimilate herself to a life that she knew nothing about, full of strangers that she didn't know, in a life she had been reborn in... But even though she was trying, that didn't mean that she would do so without fault or hindrance.
Still. She was trying. That had to account for something, right?
The call had been made, and Israfel had arrived without grand splendor, preferring to slip in unanounced. She filtered in among the others, fiery vermilion eyes wandering across the unknown faces presented in front of her. Oh, she recognized some, like the stallion Diarmuid that she had pulled out of the unsavory swamp to the north, but other than that? None. Briefly she cast gaze around, searching, trying to spot the sooty gold body of Finnian, but since their first meeting, he hadn't been around. A shame.
So, the ivory and gold maiden stood at attention near a sorrel mare with flaxen locks beside a creamy colored youth, wings pulled close to her sides, hooves stationed in proper formation. Her eyes, fierce, fiery, were locked on the bespeckled lady that they formed around, the one who had made the summoning call. Rannveig. The Sovereign of the Dusk Court. Israfel knew of her, but they had never spoken. So odd, wasn't it? That she was willing to lay down her life for a lady of whome she had never even conversed with simply due to her station.
Loyalty was foolish, but brave. Israfel had yet to discover just which she might fall under. Perhaps, under Rannveig's monarchy, she would discover it.
She had yet to meet those in charge of Terrastella. Come to think of it, she really hadn't met many that called the Dusk Court their home, preferring to keep to herself and tend to her duties, both obligatory and personal. It was a train of thought that was spurred by destructive self-consciousness, self-criticisms, and mental hangups, but she was trying. The Sun Daughter was trying to assimilate herself to a life that she knew nothing about, full of strangers that she didn't know, in a life she had been reborn in... But even though she was trying, that didn't mean that she would do so without fault or hindrance.
Still. She was trying. That had to account for something, right?
The call had been made, and Israfel had arrived without grand splendor, preferring to slip in unanounced. She filtered in among the others, fiery vermilion eyes wandering across the unknown faces presented in front of her. Oh, she recognized some, like the stallion Diarmuid that she had pulled out of the unsavory swamp to the north, but other than that? None. Briefly she cast gaze around, searching, trying to spot the sooty gold body of Finnian, but since their first meeting, he hadn't been around. A shame.
So, the ivory and gold maiden stood at attention near a sorrel mare with flaxen locks beside a creamy colored youth, wings pulled close to her sides, hooves stationed in proper formation. Her eyes, fierce, fiery, were locked on the bespeckled lady that they formed around, the one who had made the summoning call. Rannveig. The Sovereign of the Dusk Court. Israfel knew of her, but they had never spoken. So odd, wasn't it? That she was willing to lay down her life for a lady of whome she had never even conversed with simply due to her station.
Loyalty was foolish, but brave. Israfel had yet to discover just which she might fall under. Perhaps, under Rannveig's monarchy, she would discover it.
