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Current

Current Novus date and time is

▶ Year || 503
▶ Season || Spring
▶ Temp || 43℉ (8℃) - 70℉ (21℃)
▶ Weather || The weather radar really does seem to be off the charts lately...
I wonder what's going on? (#15-19)

Spotlight

Character of the Season
Pavetta

Member of the Season
Nestle

Thread of the Season
A land of absence
and root and stone


Pair of the Season
Bexley and Acton

Quote of the Season
"And all the while her mind, her blood, her fierce and fearless heart was singing, singing, singing." — Shrike in We're under attack!

see here for nominations


DISCORD

All Welcome - a plague on both your houses
Basileios — Day Court Citizen Signos: 255
▶ Played by Silver [pm] Posts: 6 — Threads: 3
▶ Nonbinary [they/them] Hth: 15 — Atk: 5 — Exp: 10
▶ 4 [Year 499 Spring] Active Magic: Truthtelling
▶ 14.1 hh Bonded: N/A
#1

the sun will rise with my name on your lips

Home is no refuge, and the streets are nearly as bad. Basil kicks a door closed behind them, cutting off the outraged squawks of relatives and their 'retainers' alike. Change comes inelegantly to some and the Azhade are no exception. It is not the first time, nor the last time, that Basil will slam the door in their cousin's face in favor of sequestering themself in the house's gardens— nor will they apologize for it when their cousin's visits are scarcely more than ambushes.

Once within the garden, the quietude is oppressive, all trickling water and date palms, that sets the Kathiawari more on edge. It is just such a facade— they feel as though they are an actor on a set, no more in control of their life than a thespian of the script.

They take to the streets, slipping out of sight from their still-raging cousin and his gaggle of liveried servants, in an uncharacteristically stealthy maneuver. The snows have scarcely thawed from the blizzards that plagued the desert and, shivering, Basil almost regrets their decision. Thankfully, there was a tea shop not far from their house that was almost as good as home, even when they were considered something of a pariah by a third of the Day Court and most of the Azhade family.

The door tinkles merrily as they enter, greet both the warmth and the smiling host, and gratefully recline on the proffered rug. Their low table is small, in the center of the room where guests are frequently joined by strangers, but a brazier is nearby and that is all Basil will ask for until their hot mint tea arrives with a freshly made crepe arabique. Then, maybe, the only desire will be good company, extra honey, and perhaps a little shisha for the room's hookah.

cause everything will change tonight


Reply
Apolonia — Day Court Youth Signos: 55
▶ Played by RB [pm] Posts: 6 — Threads: 1
▶ Female [She/Her/Hers] Hth: 10 — Atk: 10 — Exp: 10
▶ 1 [Year 502 Spring] Active Magic: Perception Manipulation
▶ 15.1 hh Bonded: N/A
#2


I CAN SEE THE FUTURE, IT'S A REAL DARK PLACE -
[Image: apolonia_by_erasvita_dcmlqry_by_beccazw-dcnhnsj.png]

It’s unlike her to come here, but then again it’s unlike her to do anything but fight.

Even though the street Apolonia pitches through is peaceful, quiet, even, she twirls the hurlbat at her side consistently and listens to it cut the air in ribbons, whoosh, whoosh, whoosh through the warm wind. Spring is here and in the streets the snow has finally started to melt, trickling water over the grimy cobblestone. O winds her way through downtown with an easy step and picks her way over obstacles without hesitation. Overhead the sun winks in the sky, turns the places where Apolonia is not touched by the soot of her father to a bright, blinding, rich gold.

She does not think much about the world around her except for the heat on her skin and the solid, marble click of her hooves against the stone: what else is there to think about? For all her youth and foolishness Apolonia is still hard-headed, and she finds it easy enough to turn her thoughts away from anything uncalled for. Instead she focuses on the feeling of her black hair hot against her neck, taut muscles working away under her skin, head lifted from her chest to watch for the shop she’s heard so much about.

That third eye - watchful, brazen, unblinking - remains wholly hidden underneath a lock of onyx hair.

O pushes her way into the tea shop with one rangy shoulder, fluid and narrow enough to squeeze inside without much effort. An aureate kind of dust floats through the air and chokes her with scent - jasmine, green tea, black and fruit. She’s surprised to see someone already reclined on the rug in the center of the room, and for a moment pauses, unsure what, exactly, is being offered, but in the tradition of her stupid, stupid family, steps forward.

Ah, she lilts. Hello.


 


Reply
Basileios — Day Court Citizen Signos: 255
▶ Played by Silver [pm] Posts: 6 — Threads: 3
▶ Nonbinary [they/them] Hth: 15 — Atk: 5 — Exp: 10
▶ 4 [Year 499 Spring] Active Magic: Truthtelling
▶ 14.1 hh Bonded: N/A
#3

the sun will rise with my name on your lips

Already, the warmth of the tea house and the hundred-thousand scents of jasmine, rose, and bergamot have lulled some contentment and ease into Basil's muscles. The problems they face, many eyed and many headed as they are, are outside and far away. Within the confines of the room, they are powerless (or seemingly powerless) and that illusion in and of itself is enough to cease the predations upon their mind.

Basil sighs heavily into their saucer of mint tea and settles down into the thick wool rug. Just because they're able to sequester themself against the intrusive worries — would their family attempt to murder them, how could they win over their family, was their plan feasible, where was his playmate — doesn't mean those worries magically disappeared. The anxiety is there, waiting, an old friend all too willing to step into place beside them at a moment's notice. Such is their burden.

The door chimes with the arrival of another guest, interrupting the spell of melancholy, and Basil looks up expectantly. They don't always meet friends here, but a majority of their friends frequent tea shops. The odds are good. Instead, the guest is a stranger to them — antiqued brass marred by white, angles met with side-swept hair — but, with only a moment's hesitation, she makes her way to the room's center. The low table is large enough for three and she, dainty like themself, is scarcely out of room.

"Salutations!" they answer at once, beaming like the sun itself. "Would you like to join me?" They tilt their muzzle at the table, set with a single crocus, and the cozy brazier. The host, arriving quietly with tea and refreshments, becomes nearly overlooked, even as the scent of mint and honey wafts through the air. Basil's focus scatters at that, their mane trembling as they whip their head around with the frantic need to say thank you before the server has disappeared. They manage it, just barely, before the host has made his way past them.

It is easy, so easy to take for granted the jobs that would have been done by slaves such a short time ago. Unlike so much in the desert, history cannot be obscured by sandstorm and time— Basil must remember, for their heart's sake and the future of the Day Court.

But there are other things that need attention, and one of them is before them. "Sorry— my name is Basil. I don't think we've had the chance to be introduced...?" they ask politely.

cause everything will change tonight


Reply
Apolonia — Day Court Youth Signos: 55
▶ Played by RB [pm] Posts: 6 — Threads: 1
▶ Female [She/Her/Hers] Hth: 10 — Atk: 10 — Exp: 10
▶ 1 [Year 502 Spring] Active Magic: Perception Manipulation
▶ 15.1 hh Bonded: N/A
#4


I CAN SEE THE FUTURE, IT'S A REAL DARK PLACE -
[Image: apolonia_by_erasvita_dcmlqry_by_beccazw-dcnhnsj.png]

The grin this stranger flashes at her is unsettlingly bright. Almost Apolonia doesn’t trust it - almost she leans back in careless suspicion, letting her wiliness overcome her - but she is composed enough not to let it show and instead she flashes a smile back at him, tight and sharp though it may be. On her it looks strange, a sickle wreathed in flowers. But it’s a little warmer than the stoniness that comes to her so naturally.

Thank you, she says, and somewhat balefully sinks to her knees on the cushion by the table; as her weight falls, the curtain of blue-black hair against her neck slips, and for half a moment her third eye slips into view. The bright blue blinks and blinks and blinks, unused to the light, flickering frenetically, uneasily around the room, and just as quickly as it appeared it disappears again as Apolonia shifts a new dark curl in front of it.

She meets Basil’s gaze with a cool, two-toned gaze, so intense it almost dares a question to be asked. Some part of her hopes they have the good sense not to listen. 

O blows a breath over the steaming saucer of tea as it simmers away on the table and flicks an ear at the stranger’s introduction. Basil. Nice to meet you. Apolonia’s voice is unnaturally gravelly, too deep to seem normal, at first, from the mouth of a girl as young and as slight as she is, but the more one listens the more it seems to fit - the way she sprawls her long legs uncaringly across the floor, the bright challenge in her eyes, the scent of sandalwood on her skin. My name is O.

The hurlbat at her hip glimmers in the light, dark and steely.


 


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