Rain danced from the heavens, the sky illuminating with each flash of lightning, a silver sheen falling on the earth. The storm was gentle now, but building in intensity, rolling in from the North with a vengeance. In the early dusk, creatures of the day were scurrying away, finding their burrows and shelter from the storm. There was a hush that fell over the Dusk Court, save the slow rolling throb of thunder in the distance, prophesizing what would come next. And before the onslaught of the storm was upon her, Morpho moved with purpose southward, away from the weather.
Her mane was damp, dripping down the side of her cobalt black body as it plastered to the sides of her neck. Heavily lidded eyes shielded themselves from the sting of the water drops, and from time to time, the girl would stop her wandering to wipe them on her muscled chest, pushing away the water that clung to her lashes. She shivered once or twice, not so much from the cold, as the Spring was warm even in the night, but from the sheer majesty of nature’s wrath. As she moved, the glowing necklace at her breast bobbed like a lantern in the darkness, mirroring the motion of glowing birdcatcher spots along her haunches, withers, and face.
She was a beautiful creature, and painted quite the picture in the rain. And they would find her here… whoever ‘they’ were. The butterfly mare hoped to be welcomed here, but had enough where-with-all about her to know that trust took time and effort on both parts. So, she is wary as she walks through these strange lands, her head twisting on a swivel to take in the world around her with a cautious sort of curiosity. After all, you never could be too careful – a mantra she had adopted at a young age in life.
Only once she stumbles upon the crumbling ruins of the Dawn Court, does the mare stop. Shaking herself dry in the place where wind whispered through rocky halls, she whinnied quietly to see who would hear, bracing herself for the inevitable first meeting of another in this strange and fantastic place.
She was no stranger to rain, but she hid herself away in the tower halls all the same. The storm singing outside held no interest to her--she was a creature of winter, not water--and though she knew the lyrics well she preferred to stay dry for the night as the sun settled low into the sky.
The tower doors stood open as was typical fashion for the court, the rain a sheet of grey tumbling beyond the wall's exteriors. There was no sound within other than the echo of the thunder playing its games, and the fall of her hooves as she moved about the tower's ground floor. Their meeting had come and gone and with their departure she had felt a sense of confidence that was missing beforehand. Those who showed had proven their loyalty and gave themselves over to rebuilding their Court; and beneath the watch of Vespera, that was all she could have hoped for.
In the damp silence she browsed the court's hall walls, drinking in the pictures of the tapestries that she had often spent hours looking over before. Everything they had was dedicated to the Dusk people, with Vespera above them all to guide them. And even in the bleakness of the outdoors, the interior was well lit with torches to make the tower an inviting place to visit or to stay.
With her back turned to the entryway, it was only when the strike of hoof upon stone fell that she realized she had been given company. She moved to face the doorway and was greeted with the sight of a girl dripping with water, her black coat shining with the reflections from the light within. Her golden spots seemed to be a separate piece of her, glowing and bouncing around her dark body against the false rays of the torches. The sight of her dazzled Rann, and she took a moment to appreciate the beauty shown before her.
"Come, bring yourself out of the rain." And though her features were nothing but inviting, her accented voice was a harshness to the softness that surrounded them. She moved to close the distance between them, the stars within her darker blue spots twinkling as she walked. When the girl took steps inside the halls, Rann stopped some short paces away and bowed her head in greeting. "The Dusk Court welcomes you."
Shivering in the doorway of the temple, Morpho knew she looked anything but regal. Yet, in the quiet hush of these halls, there was a welcome sort of warmth. Her meadow green eyes were warm with gratitude as she nodded to the stranger, shaking as much water as she could muster from her ink and gold coat before stepping through the hearth. Gold framed ears tipped toward the mare, and her eyes roamed quickly over Rannveig’s regal stature, from the stars on her back to the fur-lined cuff on her leg. Deciding the mare was certainly one of power in this place, she nodded a bit lower, submissively to the leader. For Morpho had no desire to be confrontational in this new place, and she accepted the welcome with gratitude.
”Your land is quite pleasing to the eye, rain and all. I thank you for the welcome, and apologize for my sorry state. I’ve been on the road for some time now, and am certainly gracious for your hospitality.” She looked around, taking in the rich colors on the walls, a deceiving sort of beauty that you wouldn’t have noticed from the outside crumbling walls. Inside, this temple spoke of histories she yearned to learn more about. Perhaps she would be welcome here, to stay… home had a lovely sort of ring to it.
”I am Morpho – a traveler and nothing more. My journey began far from here.” Too far. She felt as though she’d wandered for eons, trying to escape the pain of her past, to find somewhere new to begin again. But there is a hopefulness in her breast as she looks around this place, a lightness to her heart that hadn’t been there in some time. ”Forgive me, but I haven’t heard much about this land before… but I want to know more. Could you tell me about your Dusk Court?”
home is behind the world ahead
there are many paths to tread
The summer seemed to be one rolling storm after another. The reprieve from the rain pounding the ground and trenching up the hills and the wind knocking down branches and leaves to the lightning cracking stumps in half and trying to ignite them but the rain pressed on and the fires never took hold. In the small hours of release where the sun would attempt to break the cover of clouds above. Their attempts were futile as the darkness pressed over the heavens again and filled with water as day turned to night and the sound of rain filled her ears once again.
There is not much cover from the rain in the dusk court. The flatlands are merely just bushes that don’t provide much of anything for protection if you are larger than a mouse. The swamps are a good place for their trees that cluster on some islands between the plateaus of muggy marsh and quicksand. Take an already soaked and rotten turf and add terrestrial downpour and your end up with an even more treacherous area to traverse. Only Yana would know the driest places to bed down but she is as secretive as she is beautifully alluring.
The only place left is near the dusk court building and since this kind of weather is far too thrilling to possibly sleep. Long thick braids and long hair sucked up to her striped skin and weighed down the one side of her neck. The weight felt as if it was cramping the crest and side of her neck. One release from the water was that front part of her horns funneled water from above her eyes to the center of her face so it would flow down from her nose.
Weir decided it would be a good time to look over the collection of herbs she has started within one of the healer’s large chambers in the keep of the dusk court. Weir has stashed some of her secret treasures away that she would bring out again when the time was right. The uses of them are still foreign to her and may be of value to the right person. The light flickered through the entrance as Weir stepped through and saw her sovereign and a dark shining stranger.
Weir caught only the last of the stranger’s questions but choose not to answer because there is much more Weir can learn from listening to her Rannveig’s answer. Weir seamlessly bowed towards Rannveig. Salutations Rannveig. I hope you and keeping warm and well on this delightful stormy evening. Weir expressed a warmth and joy that few others could match, her eyes of roses are soft and kind as they look at the company around her. Weir tucked her head to the stranger next. Greetings I am Weir, a healer here in the dusk court. If you are ever in need I will be there for you but for now, I am happy you are here and out of the cold. As she smiled her head tilted to the side just a little bit.
Weir had been waiting for just a time like this to spend some time with her sovereign. It is not one on one but being a ruler is not some easy and there are many things to do. It is nice to have someone in charge that appears very competent and insightful. This new stranger seems to be in good shape and of good manners, she should adapt to life here easily.
In the hall, Morpho warmed considerably. Water dripped from the ink and gold of her coat onto the stone floor, but the summer heat drew it away as quickly as it began to puddle. She was glad for the warmth, the dryness of the temple air stealing away the chill, and drying her coat as it fluffed back out into a bit more presentable look. Reaching to smooth the hair which curled along her back, she tried her best to look presentable in front of the monarch, but knew that it was of no avail for now. Still, it was the welcome that caught her by surprise, and the warmth emanating from the leader which intrigued her. For too long, all Morpho had known was loss. It was a welcome change to feel compassion in its place.
Turning toward the sound of a second set of hooves on the cobbled floor, her meadow green eyes took in the sight of a grey striped mare. They rested for a moment on the smile, ears flicking to draw in the stranger’s words as she nodded her head in greeting. ”Weir, it’s a pleasure, and I appreciate the welcome. I am certain that your skills as a caretaker here are more than welcome, and look forward to hearing more about your caste and duties in this place.” It was easy to take an immediately liking to the kind mare, and she returned a genuine smile to the greeting.
Morpho stepped to the side to allow the second mare to come closer to Rannveig, her eyes roaming a bit more over the splendor of this place. They rested on the fading murals on the walls, telling stories of kingdoms long past. Beyond where she stood, Morpho had yet to learn of the vast libraries and teachings of Vespera, but these things would come in time. For now, she turns back to the sovereign, wondering what stories she would share of this place.
