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Beautifully drawn by Sid (Erasvita@DA)!
Current Novus date and time is

▶ Year || 503
▶ Season || Fall
▶ Temp || 35℉ (℃) - 69℉ (℃)
▶ Weather || Summer's iron grip has slowly faded into the gentler Fall embrace. The morning dew frosts over in the early morning hours and melts by the time the sun hits high in the sky. Many of the trees have traded their lush, vivid green for a more suitable array of red and orange hues. But don't blink, for Winter's cold embrace is fast upon Fall's heels.


Character of the Season

Member of the Season

Thread of the Season
r.i.p. to my youth;

Pair of the Season
Atreus and Fiona

Quote of the Season
"Are there lines she's crossing? Should she toe them or touch them with a pole and stay away wholly? But to avoid such a storm he offers, such a taste of life; to withhold herself from the chance to taste starlight, to love satin and silk and swallow pomegranate seeds not yet offered... She should be stronger." — Moira in
Small as a wish in a well

see here for nominations


All Welcome - 'a landscape of absence and root and stone'
Isra — Night Court Sovereign Signos: 1,735
▶ Played by nestle [PM] Posts: 170 — Threads: 22
▶ Female [she/her/hers] Hth: 20 — Atk: 20 — Exp: 33
▶ 5 [Year 497 Winter] Active Magic: Transformation
▶ 15.1 hh Bonded: Fable (Sea Dragon)
Isra of the rusted flowers

“I was misplaced air that cradled all around you, ”

She can feel, she can feel, she can feel.

And she has not felt in so long anything more than sorrow and the icy kiss of fate.

There are a million sparks of light running across her flesh and a hundred embers of fire sparking on her soul. Isra feels like she' breathing out smoke across his flesh and lighting up the night more then the stars do with the flashes of electricity cracking down her bones. Can you feel it? The spirals of smoke and bits of spark burn the words into that strange place between their minds. She speaks in smoke signals and the drum, drum, drum of her heart between this weak cage of bone. Can you feel that we are space and we are dust and we have never been ourselves.

Isra doesn't tell him that she has been the sea and blood and death. She doesn't tell him that she has died. Her soul keeps her secret, swallows it like bile between the drapes of smoke and beat of heart.

“I have forgotten.” She says and this time she lets her teeth scrape along his ribs, as if she can taste how it feels to be unbroken (and it tastes like sun and sand and heat). “Sometimes it feels like dying and other times..” Isra can feel him, wrapping up her roots and wire against some part of his insides and she lets the wire bloom, flowers of blood and rust made lovely by the way they fold around his ghosts and his sand and his fire. “Other times it feels like this.” It feels like being space where planets roll between her lungs and star-dust flows in her veins instead of blood.

Her bones feel right where he touches them and her skin feels like perfection when his breath washes across it in waves of recreation.

But Isra has not forgotten the dawn for the bison sigh in their clusters of hair and heat and she pulls away from him. Her horn dances like a wish when she presses her lips to his brow. It glitters in the moonlight and her teeth look like pearls where they briefly peak through the dark shield of her lips.

The cold settles in almost instantly and she wants to dash herself on the shores of his dunes, let herself be swallowed back up in whatever this secret thing is between them. “Give me your name.” Her voice briefly remembers she is a unicorn and her bones swallow up the slave soul and she tosses her frosted hair back from her eyes.

Oh! Oh how those eyes devour him, knowing now bits of the endless sea that hides inside him.

Isra takes another step from him and those wire roots slice at her insides in complaint and she sobs with the suffering of it. The flowers still bloom though, dragging between them like something stronger than wire and chain and want.

Show me who I could be. Her sea eyes are fire eyes, blue enough to build stars around the heat of her flames. Until the dawn comes for us. Those petals between them unfurl a little more before they start to wilt and die and fall from the stem of her soul.

And when she walks toward the herd of bison she looks back at him, daring and wanting as a unicorn should. “Until the dawn.” Isra pleads as only a being that has pleaded for their life can, as only a ghost can. She would gladly sing to him the song of their secret, their sorrow until the sun stole from her the very last melody from her heart.

@Eik <3
(I figure we can end this here and they can chill with the bison until the dawn and then meet again?)
(because otherwise I could do this thread forever)

Eik — Day Court Emissary Signos: 2,855
▶ Played by Rae [pm] Posts: 196 — Threads: 26
▶ Male [He/Him/His] Hth: 27 — Atk: 33 — Exp: 52
▶ 10 [Year 493 Spring] Active Magic: Telepathy
▶ 15.3 hh Bonded: N/A
Happiness a tricky thing. For Eik it was never easy, like everyone else made it seem. It needed to be handled, or else it would get away from him the way his heart does now. Happiness is dangerous. So he often settled for contentment, its older brother.

But oh, how delightful it is to stand in the doorway of happiness and see what lies past it. He is not content, here in the falling snow tangled up in a black-haired unicorn. She's cracked open something deep and beautiful in him and he does not know if he will ever be content again-- if seems the world will be forever polarized into With or Without this dream creature beside him. The one who names herself Isra.

 "My name is Eik, his voice is tight, for he too knows what it is to beg-- though never successfully.

(Ask more of me, Ask everything.)

He almost cries out when she steps away and the cold rushes in to fill the space she once inhabited. His eyes cling to her as though expecting her to fade as all sweet dreams must do. Only now does he notice her scales, each a small galaxy in itself, and he wonders at the way they reflect the moon in iridescent shades of color he has no name for. And as she walks away from him her swaying hips toll like a bell in his soul.

(Of course, of course he realizes this is all just a new kind of madness. But if he can't be without madness then let it at least be wild and beautiful and bigger than himself. Let it bleed him dry. We pray to those we've lost, for we have new ghosts now and they have blue eyes.)

Isra looks at him with a challenge in her eyes and he has the sinking feeling that she will be the ruin of him, but he also has the feeling of rising, rising like the smoke that remains even after the flame has died. "If it would please you," his voice is hoarse with restraint (has he ever wanted anything this much) and as he speaks out loud his mind voice chimes in, out of his control "that is not enough."

 He steps after her before she is lost to the herd, and it does not escape his attention how her hoofprints look so very real and so very small among the bison's. Then he reaches out to her vast, sad, heartbreakingly beautiful mind, and then he reaches out to the minds of sleeping giants, and he pulls the dreams of the bison over them like a blanket. One last magic trick. And for a time, he allows himself this razor-edged happiness. It feels a little like death and a little like rebirth, both of which he knows in a way, but not like she does.

ooc: @Isra a naked, long overdue closer! Thank you for such a wonderful thread <3

Time makes fools of us all


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