Few things could bring people together like the turn of the seasons. Since the conception of ‘community’ there have been gatherings to celebrate the various cycles of life. Births, unions, a good harvest, the first frosts; any excuse intelligent beings could devise there would be some elaborate event to bring joy and excitement to the participants.
Novus had been through a veritable hell the last few years, depending upon who you asked. Sovereigns had changed more times than many would care to count, a troubling occurrence of leadership vanishing into the ether to be replaced by fresh faces. Something was stirring, and the bonds between the realms had been tenuous at best. But the changing of hands brought about a change within the inner workings of the courts themselves, though if you were to ask any common citizen they couldn’t tell you why. The shift was within the atmosphere in a way that one could tell a storm was coming without there being a cloud in the sky.
Spring, however, had a way of washing away past sins and breathing new life into anything. It seemed only fitting as court alliances and relationships were being built anew there would be a grand gathering with the intent to bring the denizens of the often solitary realms together. If you spoke to a Solterran they might say that their fearless leader, Leviathan, had been the one to speak out first, to forge stronger bonds with his neighbors. If you asked a Denoctian they would say that the combined efforts of Israfel and her compassionate partner Luvena brought about the festival, as a way to quell any lingering fears or misconceptions about the outcast court. Those belonging to Terrastella might be the first to tell you that Liam, ever a peacekeeper, put forth the idea so that the long-held rift between the courts might finally begin to mend. Though, if you spoke with a Deluminian, they would posit that Callynite, the only Sovereign who was not equine in nature, had opened up her court lands to the festival as an olive branch to her fellow leaders.
Any of these assumptions could be true or false, but regardless of their validity, one truth remained: the Spring Festival was open to all, and intended to bring even the most disparate members of each court closer together. The invitations that had been sent out among the people advertised a sort of pop-up marketplace for vendors to peddle their wares, where artisans and specialists from each land could showcase their talents. There was even to be a bonfire dance reminiscent of some folk traditions, where sharing stolen moments with exciting new faces seemed to be encouraged.
Though the dance certainly intrigued Nefertari, she had intended to keep her interactions with the denizens of the different courts a largely professional one. She was placing the finishing touches on the tent that she had been so graciously provided. The small frame was draped in rich purple silks that shone with accents in gold, tassels depicting suns and moons hanging from each of the high points. In the center a small table was situated, across which lay a black silk cloth, a deck of gilded cards set to one side. The entrance to the tent had a plush patchwork cushion and a hand painted sign in a swirling gold script that proclaimed ’Tarot Readings, a glimpse into the Universe’. At the bottom of the placard as a delicate aside there also read the note ‘Donations appreciated’.
As the mare stepped back to admire her work, she took the time to watch as the other vendors of the inaugural event went about setting up their own displays. It was still morning, though quickly approaching midday and several of the stalls were well underway to being fully stocked. Just within the handful of tents the Solterran could easily observe along her own row she saw several jewelers, leather workers and in the distance she could hear the telltale signs of a blacksmith at work, though she couldn’t fathom how they managed with the inherently temporary stay that the festival provided.
The Illuster Meadow provided a pleasant backdrop to the activities, beautiful poppies and wildflowers dotting the terrain and a softness to the ground that meant traversing from tent to tent and back again was easy on even the oldest in attendance. The day promised to be clear and mild, and the clairvoyant was grateful to see a stall not too far away setting out various baked goods.
Nefertari settled herself inside the tent, reflecting on the recent events of her winter season. She had fled Denocte as a child, wandered the unclaimed lands for a handful of years before finally claiming Solterra as her home. Last fall she’d felt a pull, a call to her birthplace, and traveling at such a time had proven to be rather a divisive choice. The Arma had prevented her from returning to her cherished desert lands, and so she had chosen instead to educate herself on some family history. That experience had been less informative than she would have liked, and some part of her took it as a sign to not dig any further. Why go snooping around a past that she had deliberately run from? What possible good would that have to her now? The invitation to the debut festival had been an intriguing one, and not ever a woman to pass up an opportunity when it so loudly came knocking, she had made the trip to Delumine once the snow had cleared.
Bright gold orbs watched as attendees meandered past, a soft smile to her sooty maw, wondering whose fortune she might read, who she might provide guidance to even as she struggled to understand her own signs from the gods. Interpreting the will of deities and the universe always seemed much more simple when it was for anyone but yourself.
The winter months had gone by much too quickly for the stallion’s liking, though for his elk companion, they could not pass fast enough. It was bad enough that the earthen brute had invited the predator woman to follow them home so that he could heal her wounds, but it had become painfully obvious that the two of them were dancing around feelings of romance. Did it matter that she had nearly eaten him upon crashing into their lives? Apparently not. When the trio had separated in the Arma at the turn of the Winter season, the elk became concerned when it had taken an entire week for them to be reunited. And when they had? She had been wearing one of his furs that stank of their combined scents and carrying one of his satchels full of the preserves that Gareth had made for Salome.
Noor had made it abundantly clear he disapproved of his friend’s choices. If the elk had been forced to pick between the vampire lady who had already broken the stallion’s heart twice (which was already twice too many for his liking anyways) and the strange carnivore woman who had tried to turn him into a Chinese Take-out box, he would have rather thrown himself from a cliff. But it had not been his choice- it had been Gareth’s, and Gareth had thought that pretending not to fall in love with the dangerous predator was the better option.
He denied it of course, in true mountain man fashion. It was no surprise to Noor that his friend would bury his true feelings. The stallion had a bad habit of doing that with just about everything. Sad about your childhood sweetheart getting married off right under your nose? Congratulate her on finding a successful husband, and then entrench yourself in shady dealings and peddle your skills as both healer and poisoner. Torn apart when she returns years later to stand you up without any explanation? Hole up in the mountain in a desperate and pathetic bid to see if she’s just really really late. When she comes up a year after that, do we get upset or just immediately forgive her? Apparently we forgive her, profess our long held love as she confesses to being a bloodsucking undead creature and then watch her disappear once more into that dark night.
Gareth could have taught a masterclass in denial, and Noor made a point to remind the stallion of that fact often. Running from the obvious only made one look and act like a fool, and it did not become the gentle giant to look like a buffoon.
The entire winter, the medic had tended to Pangaea, careful to manage her pain, to learn more about her muscle structure and her culture. Only a child could have written off his interest as mere bedside manner. A blind, deaf and dumb child. They had been sharing a bed for Caligo’s sake!
To say that the elk was looking forward to the woman’s departure would have been an understatement. He didn’t trust her as far as he could throw her, which wouldn’t have been very far to begin with, anyways. She had insisted on putting in her fair share of work once she was able to get around more smoothly, and it was that very insistence that put the trio at the lakeside that warm spring afternoon.
“These cattail are fantastic for helping prevent infection,” the stallion said, turning to speak to Pangaea as Noor trailed behind her. “In fact, it was part of the salve I first used on your wounds during the blizzard. The sap is particularly useful, but you can dry out the leaves and use the ashes in the same way, though it’s not as potent.”
He began harvesting the useful parts of the plant, storing them in one of his hip satchels. The medic had been teaching the saurian mare some of the basics of healing, though only that which applied to her own treatment. Gareth enjoyed sharing his knowledge with her, and she seemed to appreciate the explanations as to what he was doing to her. The laceration to her ankle was almost a faded memory, the wound having healed almost completely. That would mean that their time together would be coming to a close, and the brute was going to use every opportunity he had to spend more with her, regardless of his companion’s protests.
"Speech" |Noor| @Pangaea | Since this is supposed to be a thread focused on Noor and Pan, I'm going to provide things more from his perspective over Gareth's <3
The sensation of falling was an all encompassing horror, encased in darkness. Spinning, turning unsure of which way was up, and which way was down. With darkness came a biting chill. There was just nothing. It was empty, but with each moment it felt like further air had been sucked out from within his chest. Draining the air from his lungs. Like a safety boat in a storm, he caught her scent in the chaos. She was here; but where? With each falling moment he felt like he was passing her by, that she was just out of reach.
Sweat beaded down his forehead in globs. It had been another night of endless dreams of searching. Her warmth and her scent had seemingly become firmly lodged within his senses. He had not had such feverish dreams since he had first left the desert to find these lands. He hoped that it was further evidence of the Desert Gods pushing him to find the mysterious unnamed mare. A walker of Astral planes that he had stumbled across.
During these sleepless nights he had begun weaving and construction of a gift for the next time fate drew them together. It was only a matter of time, but he would work hard to complete it before then. One night wandering from his sleep he had found a purely white pelted beast deceased. The moonlight had lit it up in such startling clarity. This was clearly going to be the foundation of his crafting, the being no longer needed its pelt. He would ensure that it would not be wasted. Its rare beauty would be captured and preserve his intended tome, while nature reclaimed the rest of the beast.
It had been difficult work, stripping the flesh and hair from the thin hide. He had to then gently work the hide to make it supple and soft. The work was honest, and distracted him from the feeling welling within his gut. It felt, at the very least, productive. He hummed and chanted softly while he worked, it brought comfort to his unsettled mind. Humming of the old gods, of their stories and their struggles. Of stories of long gone warriors and their challenges. Of maidens and crones alike.
To make the pages he selected trees with fine bark. He stripped them back and let them dry before grounding them to a fine paste. Which he processed into pages using a mold made of branches. Making the thread to further combine and decorate the object had been challenging. Combining many thin strands of reeds together, plaiting them finely. He stitched the pages together, and then stitched them into a sturdy spine. His own significant weight had been useful for pressing the pages together into a tightly bound tome. He used sap from other nearby trees to glue the pages and the cover together. Finally, he sewed a pattern for decoration into the front of the leather using the same fine reed thread, patterns of the stars and moon he saw overhead and a flickering fire.
The inside cover pages, and the final pages he coloured with deep charcoal. The colour reminded him of the endless falling in his dreams. The contrast between the white leather cover and the black inner pages pleased him. The functional pages within were a crisp clean white, with some evidence of texture from the bark used to create it. It smelt oddly sweet, a combination from the sap and the reeds used to craft the thread.
When he finished this, he was satisfied with his work. But he felt like it needed something more. He had recalled the veil she wore, beautiful and fine. It took many nights of experimentation, but finally he had managed to create a fine material. He had searched high and low looking for beetles for their unique colouration. They seemed rare, and perhaps non-existent in these lands. Without a beatle it would be very hard to dye the cloth in the desired colouration.
One morning he awoke with the embrace of the morning sun. He was well rested having finished his crafting tasks. There was a tickle of prickly legs on his nostrils. He snorted, sending the small insect flying into the dirt. He was shocked and surprised to see a colourful beetle crawling in the dirt. It was clearly another sign from the gods, this almost certainly blessed his previous efforts.
He hummed and chanted with the beatle processing its body into a beautiful multicolored shining dye for the veil he had crafted. Small flecks of its shell preserved and attached at points on the cloth, like glittering gems in the night. This veil reminded him of his gods, and the life he was to build here. To move on, with the mysterious mare. He wrapped the Veil around the finely crafted tome and hoped they would soon meet again.
Tldr; Jarek crafts the following while lamenting and dreaming about Torielle: White leather bound tome, with decorative stitching. Depicting the stars, moon and a firelight. The inside cover pages and final pages are coloured black with charcoal. Matching white veil coloured with reflective beetle dye, causing it to shimmer different colours in the light, with small shell pieces cut as small irregular shapes that adorn it like gems.
OOC: Outfit purchased from Morphi account and sent to Torielle to redeem, so this can be used in our next thread <3 This thread isn't open to replies and exists for the crafting process.
Visions of your pretty face send me into hyper space
Caught up in a palentary world
There was a subtle hum of energy.
It wrapped itself around her, promising her a grand adventure if she would just follow along with the whispers and desires.
So she sought out the one she knew would go with her. So the little star spread her wings, painting the sky with her colors. Pink eyes were searching for the dappled form she knew would be dressed like a queen greeting her citizens. Bells that chime with each step as fabric ruffles and shimmers around her. An ethereal goddess that she'd eagerly dance beside.
She soon spots the antlered dame, and she descends, ignoring the disgruntled push for her to keep flying. Landing in a swell of stardust the galactic mare beams, Tori!" The name is spoken with boundless affection by the mare who has yet to learn social cues, much less proper space and ettitque. She smiles warmly, Come? With me?" She pauses, thinking of the right way to explain. Her gaze turns to the mountain, her smile bright. Gods. I go, you come. Must go." It's the best way to explain it, her very magic egging her to go, to see what's waiting for her, soft whispers in the back of her mind.
She turns to the peak, smiling back at Tori, Come?" She asks, motioning for Tori to follow, so together they could see what hummed for her attention.
FROM THE MOUTH INSIDE THE MIND
@Torielle Notes:: So, here's my sweet Veil. The land-bound star haha.
Breathin' in you give me air, I'm living on your solar flare
Could you be my super nova girl?
Pain. Pain and longing. These seem to plague the young stallion’s heart as he leaves behind those that he loved. Those that were taken from this realm too early. Wisdom that comes from said loss is wrapping around his heart, making the young stallion withdraw into himself and lose himself in memories.
This pain is something sharp, almost feeling alive as he tries to remember how to live with it. How to feel what he feels and still go on, placing one hoof in front of the other. It was like a gravity within him, threatening to swamp him and draw him into darkness. That was what started the flickers of magic within him. The darkness of his pain and sorrow, the darkness of his grief.
Without his understanding, his magic was changing things. Darkening the reds of his coat, staining his pure colors. Then the magic switches gears, clearing out and starting to play with the markings that painted his flesh.
While his magic was playing with his hide, the young stallion reached a small village. He was nearing Novus at this point, though had not yet stepped over the border. As he moved through the buildings, an old mare noticed him and his markings that were dancing.
“Young fellow? Did your markings just shift or is my eyesight giving me a harder time than usual?” The elderly gray asked softly, her pale blue eyes soft with age.
@Pavarotti's trek has brought him to Novus, on the border of the Dusk Court's village. He is overwhelmed by thoughts of his pain, his grief, his past, and where his future will lead him - so much so that he does not notice the magic that ebbs and flows, nor the strange looks he garners from those within the village. Eventually, one elderly gray mare speaks out to him..
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do you believe in reinarnation?
'cause i thought i saw your soul
This place was mine.
What a wonderful feeling! And I didn't even have to steal it or break in! Though I did have to promise one marriage meeting for every so much money my parents put into it. The luck on my father's face was gruesome.
I made sure they wouldn't have keys.
And ill hire a bouncer to keep them out.
And maybe owning a bar will keep potential dates and marriage meetings from happening too.
Either way, this fixer upper was mine. And it was a fixer up. I'd finished cleaning the windows, and now that I could see with the lot candles and sunlight, there looked to be thousands of years of dust around this place. I try not to growl in annoyance, before using telekinesis to sweep with out doing the work myself.
With that out of the way, the tables now shone, the bar and floor was spotless. And with the starting amount of booze on the wall, well I couldn't help but hope. Before long. Maybe this place would flourish.
Either way.
I gotta bar!
FROM THE MOUTH INSIDE THE MIND
@All. Everyone Welcome. Come on in. Notes:: Asta has a bar :D
flashing and dancing on the horizon
shades of jade and emerald
She supposed they were imperfections, those marks, but they didn't feel that way to her; they were a history, cut into his body: the map of a life of endless war.
Many months had passed since the fall of her previous life which left the dark maiden on the hunt. A search for something to call her own once more and perhaps find a little meaning to the thing they call life. Things had changed and time moves on as it always does taking no prisoners. Who you once were matters not to the hands of time, you either adapt or die trying to survive in the unforgiving darkness that consumes its unsuspecting prey whole. Too many had fallen victim to their own downfalls and mistakes yet her she was flying high above the rest. A soul that refused to bend and be shaped by the tragedy of it all. There were much more important things on the girl's mind then to just lay belly up be consumed like so many others, surrendering was no option she would ever consider.
Blackened wings carried the fae through the darkening clouds while the wind howled about swaying her course here and there as it willed. There was no destination in her mind so she fought the currents as her icy optics scanned the lands many miles below her searching for something to pull her from the skies. The chilly air sent shivers down her spine and it wasn't long before she felt her wings growing heavy from the added moisture the wind drew in from afar. A storm was beginning to blow in from what she could only assume was the frigid bodies of water she had glimpsed upon earlier that day. Stretching her wings out into a glide she began her descent from the clouds in search of shelter and perhaps some warmth to get her through yet another night.
Touching down brought with it a shower of icy particles as her wings finally gave way to let her long legs take over the burden of her sleek frame. Shaking herself to rid herself of the ice she turned her eyes to her surroundings scanning every last detail until she was sure that she was alone. A soft sigh escaped her lips as her posture relaxed slightly and her wings folded into place at her sides. One could never be certain as to what they might be dropping into especially with the impending darkness, it was vital to always be on your toes in a matter of speaking.
A creek bubbled nearby as the wind blew through the few trees that managed to grow a few meters away. For now things seemed at ease but it was still a gamble to guess at what mighe be lurking around the next corner. Dropping her head to allow her lips to touch the surface of the cold water she drew in a few gulps shivering as the frigid liquid passed down her throat. This could be a long night.
There was something magical about the lake, something that made Syn feel alive. Tangled in her mane, her enchanted butterfly flapped its wings and used its little legs to hold on stronger. A smile graced the fae features, her heart leaping at the knowledge that Sav was here and she could see him again.
Dancing along the shore of the lake, she flicked her tail and grinned at the colors. She felt more herself now than she had in the past few months. Sav’s conversation had helped, though she was still afraid to face her cousin after their last conversations. So, she continued to dance through the snows and enjoy the cold air that danced over her body.
A pause settled over her and she dipped her muzzle to the edge of the water. There was still ice, easily broken by an acid painted hoof. A long drink from the frigid waters was refreshing, like a memory sweeping over her from home. Standing still, she lifted her head and gazed about her. It was quiet, but not lonely. A hope to see one of those that she adored fluttered in her heart as she enjoyed the peace.
It is the middle of the day but you wouldn’t know it for the thick cover that the canopy provides in Viride, blocking out the sunlight and creating a dim, indirect glow. It is spring, and the forest is alive with noise and new growth. Shrubs sprout their soft green leaves and new grass shoots up underhoof as I walk along a well-worn path. The trees have already soaked up the sun’s newfound warmth and are thriving high above my head.
Viride is a different sort of wilderness to the mountains I have grown used to. In the mountains I feel as a phantom—nothing better than a wandering, soulless wraith. But here, among the forest, I could almost convince myself of being something less incorporeal. Here with my stripes, as I weave between the wide trunks of the trees, I can almost believe that I am still the tigress I once was when I first stepped off a boat and onto the docks of this land.
Do not be fooled; I am still feral and fighting the violence that hibernates in the empty spaces between my bones. There is still a storm-sea darkness in my sapphire eyes that I cannot be rid of no matter how hard I have tried. They are as quick and sharp as a blade, and my tongue as untameable a beast as the lustfulness of my magic. I am coming to find that I will never be anything but what the gods made me to be, even when I try to hide her behind court laws and civil conversation and righteous politics.
I do not know where I am going, only that the walls of the Night Court were suffocating and damning after being away for so long. I could not continue to wander the streets being stared at like I have returned from the dead. I would rather be elsewhere, in the unfamiliar, surrounded by the unknown. There is not much of that left in Novus for me, unfortunately, but there are less watchful eyes outside Denocte. Less watchful eyes in this forest.
I could almost convince myself that I am home, here. If it were a little more humid, if the plant-life were a little more exotic. I could almost expect to round the trunk of a particularly wide tree and find myself standing at the entrance to a familiar small village, looking into the eyes of a familiar people. A people I too let down, at one point. I am always walking away, and finding new places to destroy.
She had stepped out of her safe place, left the forge behind. And the simple knowledge of that fact was overwhelming to the mare. She was eight years old and felt more lost than she had at four. That terrified the mare as she took to the skies to escape the memories of her past. The memories that haunted her in Dusk. Not that she would leave her beloved court, but she needed to have the push to get through them. To realize that she was still on her path even though she was no longer the mare that she had been when she seemed to be getting everything she dreamed of.
The skies were cold, the bite a welcome distraction from the turmoil in her mind. She left Neema at home, not particularly wanting to watch over the youthful canid when she was trying to find peace and something new. Her strong wings beat through the thinner air, giving Uzi a momentary surge of happiness. There was peace and power in the fact that she was able to fly and use the muscles without having to train to be the warrior she once was. Seeing a clearing next to a river, she angled down and landed.
This was definitely not dusk, that much was certain. Gazing about her with chocolate eyes, she moved to the river to take a drink of the icy waters. The cold was shocking, enough that she managed to give herself a small moment of pain with a brain freeze. Groaning, she shook her head.
Once the shock was gone, she pulled out a small bottle. Uzuri had taken the time to write the chaotic emotions and thoughts that were swirling within her heart and rolled them into a small package that fit into the glass. Dropping it into the water, she let loose a breath. "I am not asking to forget… just to let the memories not hurt as much…" She murmured toward the heavens, not even sure who she was speaking to at that point. Anyone… She had plead with the gods for any measure of peace with the changes that she had returned to find.
Once the bottle had disappeared down the rapids, she stood and closed her eyes as she let herself breathe through the myriad of emotions. The pain, the longing, the hope that had been crushed. That was what she was trying to let go of. It was time to find herself anew, to become more than she was currently. Heaven knew that her current state was basically that of a recluse.
