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

 Year || 503
 Season || Winter
 Temp || -10℉ (-23℃) to 55℉ (12℃)
 Weather || Winter has left a blanket of pristine white snow in many parts of Novus. Only Solterra remains mostly untouched by the season's frosted hold, but even the desert may feel a cold breath of wind now and then. With Winter now settled across the continent, dreams of Spring dance in the minds of many.

Character of the Season

Member of the Season

Thread of the Season
Coloring outside the lines

Pair of the Season
Moira Asterion

Quote of the Season
"There is something to be said for how soothing habit could be, when one was trying to avoid words they shouldn’t say." — Theodosia in
Cinderblock gardens

see here for nominations

Night Court Citizen

The Character


Age:6 [Year 497 Winter]
Gender: Female
Pronouns: She/Her/Hers
Orientation: Pansexual
Breed: Gypsy Cob x Thoroughbred
Height:16.3 hh
Health: 12
Attack: 8
Experience: 10
Signos: 40 (Donate)

Joined: 10-04-2018
Last Visit: 11-13-2018, 01:37 PM
Total Posts: 3 (Find All Posts)
Total Threads: 1 (Find All Threads)

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“ My weary watch and scan the host of Heaven—
Bright powers that shine along the sky, and bring
Or summer’s heat or winter’s cold to men…”
-- Watchman, Aeschylus' Agamemnon

Kassandra is a beautiful combination of her two breeds, carrying the heft of the Gypsy with the legginess of the Thoroughbred. She has a long, graceful head, with fine lines and well-defined ridges. The front of her skull is flat, with artfully curved nostrils, and a small cup of cheek. Her neck is strong and thick, if a bit short, but it has the characteristic trapezoidal lines of her racing stockline. Her ears are small and lightly curved, and finely pointed at the tips.

She has a barrel-shaped chest, with mountainous shoulderblades that frame plump, long bicep brachii. Her stomach is slightly rounded, with a stout ribcage. Her back is straight as a line, with a large hindquarters, which rises up slightly higher than the ridge of her spine. Her forearms are muscular, if a bit short, with knobby knees and thin cannons. Her somewhat weak-appearing coronets are covered in thick tufts of silvery-gray feathers.

Kassandra’s pelt is that of the deep winter night, where the stars resemble flakes of snow in a blustering storm. At its base, it is a deep blue, with a smattering of silverite roaning on her rump. Her eyes are the glimmering silver of the most pure-blooded Shed-Star. At night, under the light of the full moon, her markings seem to glow like the heavens above, almost appearing to shift and change in tandem with the skies above… but surely that is just a trick of the light?

Her mane and tail are thick, if not very long. They are a silky, wave-textured hair, dyed a dark silver that flashes white in certain lights. Without proper maintenance they are prone to tangling, and it is for this reason she doesn’t allow them to grow very long.
Amiable - Though it has never been in character for Kassandra to be rude, she learned very quicly as a child that to alienate any of her few visitors through temper-tantrums and youngling behavior would make her even lonelier than she already was. Therefore, she was always very polite to the servants and the comers and goers (of which there were not many) and grew into a young mare who is always polite, soft-spoken, and capable of being a friend to all. She dislikes arguing and most times will concede points to others even in the face of irrationality, just to stay on their good side.

Bewildered - Kas has spent much of her life in chaotic visions from somewhere beyond the stars. As such, she always seems to have a wide-eyed, half-awake look about her, as though she always is just waking from some strange dream of deep sleep. Many things surprise her, whether simply out of newness (she’s spent her whole adult life in a tower, for Caligo’s sake) or because she is waking from a vision and needs a moment to collect herself and remember where she is. She is very easy to impress, and this makes her easily manipulated, which can put her in danger if she runs into the wrong equine.

Bizarre - Having grown up in a large, fancy fishbowl, Kassandra lacks much social knowledge, and though the queen provided tutors for her advancement, it is nothing in place of the real thing. She can say strange or off-putting things, often mentioning events that have happened that she was not present for as a result of her visions, and not quite knowing what is right in certain situations. What’s more is she is generally unbothered by scenes of gore or horror, and while she is empathetic and feels sad, she reacts much more passively than a normal equine probably would; this can give others a morbid opinion of her. In truth, Kas tends to just weird some horses out with her quiet but profound manner of speaking and her strange, almost magical coat.

Captivating - Kassandra has a beauty about her, from her stunning frame, to her colors which seem to reflect the sky above. Some may find themselves staring longingly at this strange equine just to see the movement of the stars on her pelt. She carries herself with a royal grace, has a soft and beautiful voice, and is kind, almost overly so, to everyone she meets. She can be awe-inspiring one moment, and weirdly alluring the next, like an object one finds fascinating in its strangeness or uniformity. She is a mystery to most (she’s a mystery to her own self most of all) and many find the unsolvable mystery to be a tantalizing adventure to embark upon.

Cheerful - Despite having experienced more than her fair share of trauma and injustice, Kas keeps a normally happy head, though her chipper thoughts of topics that are often considered taboo or morbid may freak some people out. She sees severe things, such as death, as just another part on this long journey; most of this is because she has witnessed the deaths of many in her visions, and had to develop a very brush-off-the-shoulders view of it in order to keep her sanity. Kassandra will always try to cheer up a down friend, or even someone she’s just met, though it is often in a way that most consider the antithesis of helpful— pointing out ways it could be worse, for example.

Dreamy - Kassandra finds herself having to be forced back to the waking world quite often. She has a tendency to zone out and put her body on autopilot, moving forward until an obstacle in her path snaps her out of it. There are times when she has trouble telling the difference between a prophetic vision and what is going on in real life; when she undergoes her visions, her voice drops into something deep, gravely, and otherworldly, and she speaks in strange riddles and verse… something she frequently reverts to even when she’s awake, just because she spends so much time doing it. It is an automated response, and can freak out even the most stoic companion.

Envious - With each iota of the world she explores, Kassandra finds herself growing more and more jealous of those who lived normal lives, especially mares. This causes her to be quite pedantic and petty with others, though it is seen most prominently around females. Though she is not outwardly rude or spiteful, she has a tendency to harbor nasty thoughts about those who got to experience a normal, vision-free life; she views herself as cursed and most everyone around her as not-cursed, and the dynamic can cause her to have a bit of a closed-minded, woe-is-me attitude. She envies others for their freedom and knowledge of the world, but Kassandra does not envy those of power.

Forgiving - If someone came up to Kassandra and informed her everything Syroc had told her about her past was a vicious lie, that he had, in fact, kidnapped her from her home, and she had grown up as a prisoner for his selfish reasons, she would still be able to forgive him. Kassandra’s gift is that of star-vision, but her true ability may be the bottomless compassion that allows her to not begrudge anyone their mistakes or cruelties. She has even forgiven Syroc for the mindless slaughter of his people, though that may be attributed to the fact that she incorrectly blames herself for the event.

Folksy - Not having a lot of experience has made Kassandra a bit of a simple-minded equine. She was provided tutors of language, mathematics, histories, literature, and magics while she was a ‘guest’ of Syroc and lived in his Folly Tower, but nothing is a true substitute for the real thing. She is easily impressed by even the most simplistic of things, regardless of how antiquated or quaint they are. Be in technology or magic, a plain water wheel holds the same amount of fascination for her as a magician’s ability to pull a coin out from behind a foal’s ear. For someone who was raised around such splendor and wealth, she’s capable of surviving, and indeed thriving, by simple means.

Formal - Despite being able to get by with the basics, Kassandra was raised in a palace, and the fact of it can be seen oozing through all points of her nature. She way she moves is with a trained, tailored, polite grace, unconsciously trying to make herself appear petite and cute; she speaks with practiced formality and always gives respect where it is due. She will never leave off a title or rank when it should be mentioned, and frequently uses twelve words where one will suffice. Though she is terrible at playing the game herself, she is familiar with the court and relatively educated on the day-to-day happenings of the well to do.

Gullible - Not having much choice, Kassandra has taken everything that’s been told to her so far as the truth. This does not leave much room for skepticism. It is safe to say that she is not credulous out of, say, naivety, but instead because that’s just how she was raised. She was expected to believe what was told to her and so, having little room for argument and no way to discover the real truth, she did. Eventually, she stopped being wary and began taking everything at face value— it made her feel that much more in control of her world, as opposed to sitting in her tower stewing over things that may not be true that she had no ability to get to the bottom of. She is slowly learning to be a bit more suspecting of the outside world… with major emphasis on ‘slowly’

Grim - Kassandra has mastered the art of being ultimately depressing in a polite manner. She has the unique talent to add a dark tinge to any situation with barely any effort. This stems from her having low expectations of the world, and even more so from her visions usually showing her only the worst case scenarios, or metaphors for, which usually end up being even more morbid than what actually comes to pass. She is nihlistic in the most well-intentioned way, often arguing against problems to help others feel better by saying their struggles are mostly futile and there’s no way they can escape destiny or, ultimately, death, in the end. She is usually unbothered by horror or tales of tragedy, and though she will readily help end or prevent them, she spares very few condolences for those who have lived through them.

Helpful - Kassandra spent her life as a tool, and a tools only purpose is to help facilitate an action; therefore, she feels her only purpose is to help facilitate actions. She feels endowed to whomever calls upon her aid, for whatever reason, and she will help participate in any task with a jovial (though slightly macabre) attitude with no complaining whatsoever. She is a genuine soul who really, truly believes she’s only worth what use she can be to others at any given time; she needs to be needed, she has known no other reason for people to interact with her. When not being of use, she grows lonely and depressed quite quickly. This upbringing contributes greatly to her insecurity.

Insecure - As mentioned above, Kassandra knows herself to be worthwhile only as long as she can be useful to others. She has no idea how to appoint herself with importance as an individual, living, breathing thing; she has no pride in her talents, viewing her visions as a curse. She feels she has very few positive traits— though this is not the case, arguing it to her is like arguing with a wall of stone— and never attributes herself with being strong for surviving her traumatic childhood, or the wilderness she now finds herself in. She is constantly self-depreciating and harps on any mistake long past its point of relevance; she often keeps herself awake at night thinking about things she could have done differently, or better, or what she’d one wrong. The destruction of Furae hangs over her head like an ominous cloud, and she feels it is her ultimate mistake, and she’ll take it with her to her grave.

“ The greatest perhaps of all ancient tragedies… “
- Lord Carnarvon

Kassandra does not know if this is the name she was meant to have. She does not know what upbringing her parents intended for her, whether she was meant to be a refined lady or a rough-and-tumble tomboy. Would she have been a daddies girl or momma’s little angel? These are all mysteries, bits of the raglan fabric of her history, stolen like the spring dawn steals away the night a little earlier with each breaking day.

Though many in the land of Novus had not heard the story of the Shed-Stars, and more still doubted their legitimacy, there was a faraway kingdom by the name of Furae which had studied the myths religiously. For, you see, the land of Furae was deep in the thralls of a magical turning of the age, and the new trend was divination: the act of seeing the future, especially through that of signs in the natural world.

The mage-scholars of Furae cared little for the legend of Caligo and Tempus. They had their own pantheon, and their own creation story, and their own tales of woe. The detail of the Shed-Stars, the bits of the Goddess of Night before she became flesh and blood, interested them particularly so because of their rumored ability to tell the future in the stars. Now, there were many astrologists in Furae, as well as tarot readers, tea-scribes, and even bone-throwers; but the Shed-Stars were supposed to be the real deal— and they were only found in one place.

The king of Furae, Syroc, held a competition. He had the best locksmith design the trickiest lock, the best blacksmith forge the strongest door, and the best beast trainer train the fiercest beasts, and bid the theives of Furae steal his child and heir, Niamh, from her bed. The losers nursed bite wounds, bruised shoulders, and broken fingers; the winner was presented with a task: Steal a babe from the land of Novus. Steal a Shed-Star from beneath the nose of Caligo.

And so this Thief, whose name was never known— for what succesful criminal deals thus in names?— traveled to Novus to carry out their dastardly deed. It was no easy task, for the Star-Shed babes were part of a small, but close-knit community, and what’s more, many of them had the ability to see the future. No one is entirely sure how the Thief pulled it off— some say they used magics even darker than that of Caligo to hide from the goddess’ sight, while others claim it was all foretold, that it had to happen… nevertheless, the Thief returned home with his prize.

Syroc took the young filly, barely four months old, and displayed her before his innermost court. “Here is the Oracle of our rise,” he proclaimed. The regents laughed at him; they thought him a fool for trusting the future of his kingdom to the barely-clear sight of a knobby-kneed foal from some far-off kingdom.

Unbeknownst to Syroc, not every Star-Shed possessed the ability to divine the future from the array of the heavens… and out of those that did, some were more skilled at it than others. It was an inborn ability, to be sure, but not one that was born mastered; younglings without proper tutelage were often driven to madness at a young age by the unfiltered Sight. Look too long unto the Void, and the Void will step into you, the lesson went. Embrace Mother Caligo, but do not allow Her to hold you forever, lest you sleep an endless night.

These were lessons Kassandra missed out on.

Determined to prove his nigh-obsession with the future was no folly, Syroc marched the filly, terrified, confused, and overwhelmed, out under the night sky. He had not even allowed her a moment to adjust to her new surroundings, let alone question what was going on. She missed her mother and was terribly befuddled.

“Oracle!” He commanded, stamping a hoof. “What see you of the future of Furae? Surely you see my kingdom risen, the peak above all others.”

Petrified, the filly looked around her at all the expectant faces. Till now, all of her visions had seemed nought more than nightmares… and this was no exception. She lifted her head skyward and peered into the stars; what she saw was a confusing barrage of terrible images, of fire and death and destruction, and as she lost her mind to the cacaphony of sight, she called out what she saw in a rough, trance-induced voice.

The Seeing left her, as it always did, terrified, exhausted, and shaking. And as she sat there, trembling, before the wide eyes and no longer grinning faces, she felt as though her whole life was crashing down around her.


“And now, in retribution for these deeds,
There plotteth one against my Master’s life—
My master? Yes, for am I not a slave?”
- Cassandra, Aeschylus’ Agamemnon

As time went by, Kassandra was asked to answer more questions, from simple inquiries such as the future of the weather, to more serious notions of sickness, death, and the uncontrollable hand of fate. Each vision she encountered seemed more strange and unlikely than the last. The sun rose and set and none of them came true. King Syroc, stuck between a rock and a hard place, either had to give legitimacy to the visions of his empire’s destruction, or claim the Shed-Star was faulty, and admit his obsession with obtaining her was a mistake.

He chose the latter, quelling his court’s concerns by saying their Star was faulty. “But none can know of her presence here,” he cautioned them, “lest we stoke the ire of the mad Caligo’s servants.”

The king offered Kassandra to his third wife, Queen Nethalandin, to raise as her own child. The queen utterly refused, and was even insulted by her husband’s suggestion that she, beautiful queen of Furae, would be a mother to some broken foreign half-breed, who had not the wit the gods gave a goose. Never mind that Kassandra was alone and terrified in a far-off, hateful world, being nursed by a different midwife every day, with no interaction save the king’s appearance to ask for, and denounce, her prophecies.

Syroc decreed that she should be locked away, hidden somewhere… and what better place to hide something from the common masses than in the palace proper? He ordered the construction of a beautiful tower, made of white moonstone, silver, and sapphires. Upon completion of the tower, those who helped build it mysteriously disappeared, and Kassandra was entombed within. The king assigned her servants that would bring her food and give her the most basic care. He made sure they were all uneducated common folk, and told them their charge was a witchling, and that speaking of her outside of the tower would steal their voice and make them go mad. They believed it. They began, instead, to spread the rumor that the tower held a monster and the king most benevolent had sacrificed some of his own safety to keep the kingdom secure.

To the Foal, Syroc spun a story of a sister of his who had never existed; she had been beautiful and noble, but foolish and troublesome. She had dishonored her family greatly by having an affair with a commoner, and after the birth of her child, committed suicide by plunging herself into the sea. Kassandra, Syroc said, was the result of that union, and he, as a noble king, had agreed to keep the child safe— though never to let her forget her existence as a blemish on his family name. And so Kassandra earned an uncle, an atrocious aunt, and royal blood, as a cover up for her celestial heritage.

Syroc hoped the luxurious nature of the tower would keep Kassandra happy and suppress any desire to escape or go beyond its walls; but a gilded cage is a cage all the same, even if the bars on the windows are silver.


“…the diverse good and ill commingled are;
And who, besides the blessed Gods, are free
From sorrow through all time?”
- The Herald, Aeschylus’ Agamemnon

It so happened that the kingdom of Furae was famous for its breeding of hounds, and the king was no exception. Part of his motivation for stealing a Shed-Star was, in fact, to fix the future for hound races, and give himself a leg up in the competition. He brought his best pregnant bitch before Kassandra and asked her what she saw in the future.

“This hound will give you the stars,” she said. Syroc took this as a good omen and declined to sell any of the puppies when she whelped, save for the runt, a rattish, black-furred thing, that he planned to kill. Nethalandin said he should gift the miserable creature to their other miserable creature, as a joke, and as a token of appreciation for her service. Suffice to say the queen was not known for her sense of humor.

Syroc gave the runt to Kassandra. The Shed-Star found the dog quite peculiar— it seemed she could understand the creature’s thoughts in her head, and he, hers. She was overjoyed! She’d been tormented her whole life by magics much stranger than this and thought very little of it. After so long being alone, locked in her tower of folly, now she had a friend!

The youngling latched onto the pup like it was her sole anchor in the world, for indeed it was. The canine, whom she named Oculos, was able to slip through the door when the servants came to care for their charge; when he returned, he would bring tales of the outside; and, slowly but surely, Kassandra found her prophecies were coming true.

As he grew, Oculos began to have streaks and spots of white run through his dark black coat, as though the stars themselves were falling from the sky unto his fur. As for all of his siblings, none saw success in racing or hunting, and Syroc thought here, again, his Shed-Star was faulty. But for Kassandra, Oculus had widened her world beyond that of her eight-walled room and the horizons outside her window.

And thus, Kassandra had been given the stars.


“My true and dreadful Art, comes over me,
And racks and rends me as I try to speak.
Lo! Where they crouch, like phantoms of a dream,
The forms of children foully done to death
By their own kindred…”
- Cassandra, Aeschylus’ Agamemnon

For five long years Kassandra lived in that tour. She kept small company. Oculus was her near constant companion. The simple-minded servants who brought her sustenance, cleaned her chamber, and kept her well stocks with books and other simple activities were very cordial but distant. Kassandra always had the sneaking suspicion they were slightly afraid of her.

As she became older, and grew out of the fear of a small child, she began to understand her visions— perhaps not their meanings, but why they happened, and what to do when they occurred. She very rarely slipped over that line into the waking dream where she couldn’t tell the fiction from the reality; the moments of frothing panic and body-shaking horror became fewer and fewer.

She still had no knowledge, no recollection, of her life before Furae. She did not know she was a Shed-Star, and her gift was that of Caligo, and the Winter’s Deep Night. She thought she was cursed, cursed for being a failure to her family, cursed for causing her (fictional) mother’s death, cursed for being unable to tell her uncle what he wanted to see. And still, day in and out, the original vision of the fate of the kingdom of Furae haunted her, followed her like a shadow. When she looked to the stars, even her other visions were tinged with the horrors of her first one.

She dreaded the day. She may not have been… entirely happy, cooped up in her tower, but she had never known anything else. This was her home— Furae was her home, its people her people, despite the fact they didn’t know anything about her. She didn’t know much about herself, either, so she didn’t hold it against them.

She always blamed herself for what happened, after the fact.

Furae had never stopped evolving, never ceased searching for more and more powerful magic. When stealing the children of faraway gods didn’t deliver them to where they wanted to be, they kept looking.

Syroc became obsessed with turning his country into a global powerhouse, regardless of the consequences. Some say this is what drove the king mad. (“I see you climbing a ladder, your limbs disjointed, your lungs heaving and empty of air,” said Kassandra). Others say he lost it when he found his queen in bed with his heir, his eldest son by another mare. (“I see a weed of your own making, growing back into your bones.” said Kassandra). Everyone knows this is why he killed the queen and his eldest son. (“You stamp upon the clinging tendrils to destroy them, and break your own bones in the process,” said Kassandra).

His children by Nethalandin sought retribution; they began to turn the people of Furae against their king. (“The ferrous veins of your own body are curling themselves into knots,” said Kassandra. Besieged in his own castle, with his city and kingdom burning around him, Syroc turned to his Shed-Star, begging her for a solution.

She told him the end of her first prophecy, repeating it with solemn dread.

“The veins run beneath you come alight. They burst from your heart with a fountain of fire and blood.”

The king went running from her tower room, forgetting to shut and lock the door behind him. Kassandra, having seen it in her first vision, knew this was her time; she and Oculos fled from the Tower of Folly. She led them to Syroc’s study, wherein she found a portal, as depicted in her vision. The two of them passed through it, moments before it closed.

Syroc, maddened like a trapped rat, went to the lowest part of the castle, where he found what he believed to be a fount of magic running along the structure’s base. It was, instead, a long seam in the earth where natural gasses rose from the planet’s core. The seam ran all along the palace , out into the city streets, and deep into the heart of the populace.

Believing it to be the key for using the magic, Syroc lit a fire.

The resulting explosion wiped the majority of the kingdom of Furae off the map.


“Was he unforgiven or just tired of living a life
That never felt like his?
Though I was worn and weary, I thought I’d bury him
And lay his soul to rest out in the desert night.”
Lord Huron, "Dead Man’s Hand"

Try though she might, Kassandra was not able to escape all of the fallout of the destruction of Furae. Physically she maintained well, but mentally she was wracked with grief and guilt, believing herself to be, somehow, the cause of all the ill, the death of hundreds of civilians, and, perhaps most painfully of all, the remainder of her family. This trauma was intensified by her feeling of apparent freedom— she believed her purpose, her curse, had been to foretell (and bring about) the destruction of Furae, and with the heinous deed completed, she must have been free. She relished in the thought of no longer being plagued by confusing visions. Her joy at this freedom was wrought with terrible guilt at the price of it, and, like the serpent that eats it’s own tail, so was the struggle within Kassandra.

For days and nights seemingly unending she wandered, with Oculos by her side, finding sustenance where she could. The time of endless travel was taking a toll on her body, and she didn’t know where she was going. It was a bottomless sort of hope, leaving behind her a home destroyed; unbeknownst to her, she was heading back towards the home she’d been robbed of all those years before.

The terrain slowly began to turn to desert, and before long, Kassandra was stranded in a wasteland of little food, less water, and only the ability to go forward. She soldiered on, her will to live slowly breaking down day by day. Oculos hunted rabbits and prairie dogs for food; Kassandra was forced to drink their salty blood for the moisture to stay alive.

The vision was her breaking point.

One night, curled up against a chunk of sandstone, shivering in the merciless chill of the desert dark, she cast a glance up at the stars; in her near-delirious state, Kassandra pitched headfirst into an overwhelming vision: she saw an equine of stone, with two heads, and the world around him warped like throwing rocks into water. She saw an equine black as sin and studded with crystalline jewels; the night around her folded into layers of fabric and as she walked she covered the stars. She saw a young foal running amongst the skirts of night-fabric and chasing butterflies of stardust. And the sin-black horse turned to look at her with eyes as piercing as the full moon on a clear night and said her name directly into her ears—


In reality it was Oculos, bounding on his companion’s neck with his front paws, trying to wake her from an apparant seizure. Kassandra jumped to her feet, eyes welling with tears, sick to her stomach; her curse was not broken! The destruction of Furae had not freed her. What, then? What then would deliver her from this unending madness?

Broken, hopeless, she began to walk, again, aimlessly moving forward because it was the only thing she knew how to do. Her instinctual advacement was taking her deep, deep into a swatch of land known to those of Novus as the Mors Desert… but to safety or further suffering, not even the stars would know…
Active & Parvus Magic

Passive Magic


Redeemed HERE as part of the 'FREE restricted item to any new joining character incentive' (October 2018)

Oculos is a three-year-old male Borzoi, with black fur speckled with white dots and brindled patches of brown. He is not quite 25 inches at the shoulders, as he was the runt of the litter and remains smaller than the normal male of his breed to this day. He weighs about sixty pounds soaking wet.

Like others of his breed, Oculos is lithe and long of limb, with a gently curving back, prominent hips, visible ribs, and a long, narrow skull and nose. His chest is deep, but rather narrow,, and forms a sweeping curve before tucking up tightly into his abdomen and hind quarters. He has bright black eyes and small, pert ears that fold backwards over the rear of his skull. When he’s alert, his left ear stands at full attention, while the right ear still flops over at the tip. He has a long, thin but strong rudder-like tail for balance and directional control at high speeds.

Oculos is all the opposite of his bonded partner. Troublesome, persnickity, and always on the lookout to be a nuisance, he is very much a fox in a dog’s body. The runt of the litter, he was often spurned by his littermates and had to struggle to even nurse. This has made him strong and hardy, if a bit spiteful towards the world. Oculos often felt like he would go mad if he stayed locked up in the Folly Tower, and so spent much of his time away from Kassandra’s little room. He is very aloof and free-thinking, and very rarely, if ever, does what he is asked to do.

For Oculos, being able to understand Kassandra came as quite a surprise, whereas for her it was almost as natural as her gifts of the Sight. He struggled with having another voice in his head for a long time, and as a young pup he was frequently resentful of her being able to take up room in his brain-space. He was brought around, however, when he realized just how very lonely she was, and how alone they both were in the world. She would ask him to recount tales of the outside world and he would happily oblige, secretly overjoyed to be the center of attention. He noticed just how much faith Kassandra put in him, to return and keep her company, and that was when he figured out that being Kassandra’s companion was the most important thing he would ever do with his life.

Oculos attended Kassandra when the two of them fled Furae, and he attends her even now in her half-deranged trek across a strange desert. He is part of the only reason she is still alive, and he would be absolutely devastated to see her perish now, after all they’ve been through.

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