He woke as the cry of gulls broke for the jeering caws of chattering crows, no doubt scoffing the state of their misfortunate scavenging. A live one, they seem to chuckle amongst themselves, a sodden wet rat at that. But it is whispers that make the notion – those of speculation, heavily weighted in a hallucinogenic dream. As his eye opens to behold they are but crows and caws, albeit laughing still, but no more parroting of any intelligible conversation as the next pest. A moment longer they observed from a driftwood perch before taking flight, scattering the ground around him in sand and pearlescent black feathers. His brow furrowed, pain bubbling in his chest and threatening to rise – like a hundred hungry daggers, balled and gnarled and rolling angrily up his throat – he coughed and choked, the saltiness of seawater flooding his mouth again and stinging his tongue as he retched it from his lungs. They wheezed and sputtered, a tangle of thorns that pried and gutted him of any full breath, wrenching from their depths a seeming third of the ocean before he could draw the slightest rasping inhalation that didn't froth.
It was morning when he was spat upon Denocte's shores. He raised his head slowly, almost collapsing with the small motion itself as his muscles suddenly remembered their plight, and observed that the sun had just begun to fall from its peak – and his skin crawled with the realization. Half drowned, near starved, and sunburnt all but to a fried semblance of what he once was, he forced his body to rise. It was almost futile the first few attempts; and once, he even fell back hard against the ground and considered resting his eyes just a bit more. But he had already wasted enough time and he doubted the patience of those hungry crows would compete with the savagery of a few famished vultures, if something worse hadn't seen him before then. Shrugging against a boulder, he weakly rose to his feet and struggled another seawater breath – choking more of it from his lungs like a bitter poison.
For a brief second he thought he had caught a glimpse of the cloaked woman again, observing from afar. The sun beat down upon the sands of the beach, lit a fire to the shores that blinded him as he blinked frantically to reclaim sight. Blurs, shadows, striking lights all fell away to dreamstate, humming with the drone of the sea. A hundred blinks more and shapes took form – rocks, seaweed, caverns... and a colt that regarded him with a tense shoulder, seeming ready to bolt at any moment the man chose to so much as twitch. It remained however, still as the stone around it, frozen and wide-eyed in panic, or wonder, or perhaps some pity? Erasmus leaned back against the boulder, catching his breath and closing his eyes as they grew sore with transition. When he opened them again the colt had moved further away, unless he had mistaken his original placement, though was just as still now as he was before. Some manner of irritation slipped in between his exhaustion, his brows knitting with solemn vexation. “what." he drawled venomously between gritted teeth, poised fang, eyes narrowed as the boy trembled beneath the burden of Erasmus's cruel, firm tone. A spindle of gold cobweb slipped from the colt's satchel, a golden crow skull plopping against the sand. The youth's eyes dropped in horror to the spilled stolen goods, then snapped back to the piercing gaze that beheld him like a cobra's heady glare.
“Drop – it – now."
The satchel clicked and struck the ground with the weight of a luggage bag, clinking with the sounds of a many valuables that scorned the foul play. Pearls rolled from the gaping rawhide, a pocket watch snapped open and ticked erratically. “I-I-I thought you were... well, dead, mister.” the colt stammered, unmoving, allowing the trinkets to settle in the sand. Erasmus shrugged off the helpful boulder and tripped forward, aching muscles snatching him from another heavy fall and groaning in each sore step. In a quick whip of the breeze his twine was unraveled from the pack, the rattle of bones and claws clattering in an array of chiding pandemonium as they wove between his hairs, knotted along his neck and tangled in his tail. “Who says I'm not?" He rasped as he bore his gaze into the boy's timid eyes, his voice a shadow of the whiskey slick baritone the lull of his voice often offered, choked out by the salt-burnt grit of his throat. Satisfied by the lack of movement the fear garnered, he dropped his sights to the contents of the satchel, eyeing a slice of bread wrapped in mammoth basil. This too he snatched, a sharp look shot to the boy has he made some small but curbed cry of disapproval.
He munched the dry slice of bread in shameless peace, though it hardly hit the spot his stomach begged to fill. It didn't take long for him to recognize his small mistake – it clumped in his mouth, caught at the awful edges that raked with seasalt – and he quickly dumped the rest of the satchel, littering the ground with all manner of what he assumed were more corpse belongings – parchments, gold coins, silver lacings, rusted trinkets... and yanked from their mess a small bladder of water that he drowned down gulp for gulp. The boy stood gaping in awe and mortification, his shoulders dropped in defeat as he observed the right mess that was made of his wasted goods. Erasmus threw the empty bladder back at the kid's hooves and took a deep breath, finally clear and arguably the most relieving drag of fresh air he had ever taken. “Well you just had to, didn't you-” the boy muttered, almost weepy, gathering the useless things back into the sack and yammering what else he thought beneath his breath – nothing he dared loud enough for this heathen bred of a jackal to hear. Erasmus couldn't have cared less. As the boy gathered the bulk of his goods, sputtering and stammering over his tongue in who knows what language he blubbered, Ras dashed half the goods back to the ground to reclaim attention – and was rewarded with such, a wetted and derisive eye that went vacant in the realization that he was captive to something much more foreboding than a dead man.
Dusk began to lay heavily upon the bazaar outside the gates – vast night, purpled and bruised on the western set of distant shores, the castle dimly lit in its silhouette. He marveled for some time just outside, watching the curtains flutter from the broad windows, caught in a northern wind that whipped them violently before letting them drift to the sills. Candlelight flickered within, music drifting eerily between the gales. The scatter of papers catch his ear and eye, snatching parchment as it flies past him like a hellish bat. He uncrumpled it, its corners whipping wildly in the wind before it died down. A Warning to the Court, he read – its penmanship regal, a deep and beautiful red, stained frantic and dirtied with the dust it collected as it tumbled through the markets. Skimming through, he focused on the writings while the markets bustled behind him, merchants drawing to their vendors to set up for the night. He honed in on the words, though felt lost in them for a while, his moralities finding it hard to empathize with the fear of a villain. He is after all, a cold being despite his warm ambiance, all smoke and mirrors and sharp edges beneath the wealth of glistening gold. A dragon, gluttonous and cruel, all consumed in self worth and ambition for the finest luxuries in life. Those luxuries however found themselves well in the clutch of war and infamy; and the word of villain scrawled fearfully across the paper appealed to his sense of chaos.
As his eyes rose back to the castle, the parchment crumpled once more and rolled from the grasp of his mind, tumbling back through the wilds beyond. He saw them now – posters that fluttered idly in the breeze, tacked here and there in suffered array. Curious. Drawing forward, his gold-laden hooves clicked against the rich pavement and he rose to the cobblestone pathway to the gates, held in the study of two guards. They tensed as he arrived in their audience, and he felt he could not blame their regard – he was disheveled, much more than those earthly merchants in the streets, depraved of a good meal, a good bed, and perhaps even a good mind. Despite this, he allowed an amiable grin to cross his features. King deceit, fangs tucked softly in the nestle of his lips, he quite resembled a quaint businessman in his vigor, an arms dealer immersed in the charismatic throes of devilish youth.
“State your business.” One broke the silence between them, a stern woman of stone whose lips churned sour with a skeptic glare. Perhaps his charms weren't well enough practiced for the might of shieldwomen, a young wolf who had no desire to shoulder the weight of sheepskin. “An audience with your Sovereign." "What for?" his brow twitched at the sudden engagement, but he persevered. “My services." The guard beside her grumbled what may have been a laugh, may have been a cough - "What services?" Their abrasiveness and reluctance caught him off guard, but he hardly wavered more than a few seconds of irritation. “That's to be decided with your Sovereign." "Well that's not answer a'tall now is it?" Erasmus knit his brow now, vexxed with the level of resistance he found so unlike what the colt had relayed to him. An open court, he yammered, Diverse, accepting - that is, that's what Isra wanted! He stared through the gates, watching shadows shift through the doorway. “I have..." he trailed, his mind drifting back to the posters that littered the yard. The male guard leaned forward, brow raised. “... information on Raum, the Crow." Quiet between them. And then, "Oh do you, now? I'm sure you wouldn't mind sharing that information would ye? We're awfully curious." Caught. Erasmus felt himself slip through the floor a bit, but dared not falter in his expression. It was a voice that shot from behind the gates then that met him with softer lull, a woman with fine features. "Quit bothering him and let him in, already. He's half dead, by the looks of it." The guards stopped to behold the meek thing, turned an accusatory glance to the bristling youth before them, and yielded the demand.
Erasmus followed the young girl through the gates, through the doorway of the castle, hardly hearing a word she spoke as he admired the beautiful walls, the nightly decor - the feeling of calm that overwhelmed him with welcome unspoken. All but "yeah, yeah, no, aha," that met her idly while his mind trailed elsewhere and his eyes drank in the scenery. She left him there in the breezeway and promised a more formal welcome by someone else. He dismissed her with a nod, though only vaguely caught what she said. There he waited, his eyes drifting all through the breadth of the castle room, surveying all manner of luxury he had never witnessed before. And despite its regality, all the soft sweetness of a nightly empire, something itched under his skin. Something wrong, something too good, too pure, too soft.
His skin crawled.
@Isra
(Takes place after Raum's attack on Isra, before her capture. And no, he doesn't really know anything about anyone.)
His hoof steps are the only sound in the otherwise vast emptiness of the colosseum but in his mind he hears the clash of weapons and the cries of battle. It is a lonely place. The stars burn like dying embers overhead, crisp and cold and faraway. Something heavy lingers in the air; a pregnant pause that will surely herald the fate of Solterra in the coming days.
He finds his spirit restless and agitated this night. He should be at peace--he has chosen his side. He has returned home to his people and to Avdotya. His purpose has been reinstilled and it is a wonderful, powerful joy that has driven and motivated him the past days. They have moved camp many times in the past few weeks, ushered by a sense of urgency and unrest.
What side of history will they fall on this time?
He contemplates these thoughts alone, finding he needed some space from his loud, fighting family. He had become so accustomed to a solitary existence at court--reentering the warmth and passion of the Davke has been all that he dreamed but it has also taken its toll in the form of overwhelming exhaustion and he finds solitude in the form of scouting. The responsibility of protecting his people weighs heavily on his shoulders tonight. He has been spying on the outskirts of the capitol in an effort to find poorly protected caravans but it has been so quiet as of late.
Too quiet.
Even the colosseum is quiet. Quiet and empty. A great basin left to erode in the desert wind and collect what precious little rain fell might fall from the heavens.
I think I'm growing into someone you could trust...
Despite living many lives and seeing many things, one thing Rou had never seen before was a building. Sitting against the horizon, a chilly autumn zephyr blowing against the grain of his skin, he cannot help but stare at it, enamored by its astounding beauty. Placed high above the trees and a raging river, everything seemed to pale in comparison to Dawn’s capitol - tawny bricks and stone make up the construct of each towering gothic spire, spun together with protruding webs of ivy. Rouge imagines the things that happen within its walls, what adventures would await him - would this be a friendly kingdom, as Tephra had been? Or would they question his intentions as Solomon had? Either way, it didn’t seem to matter. All that he could focus on was the castle as he stood there, bathing in all its glory.
He’d only just begun to understand the inner workings of his telekinesis, but if this power gave them the ability to construct something of this magnitude, well, he was surely impressed.
Rouge takes in a deep breath and begins trekking up the hillside towards the castle. It is long, and the rather treacherous river below makes for a less-than-appealing journey, but he eventually finds himself in Dawn Court, a stranger amongst them all. He’d heard the whispers of a murder here, and wished to help in whatever way possible. He whinnies a polite greeting to those who are around. “My name is Rouge, I come with no ill intent,” He states, bowing his head. “I only wish to become part of your ranks. I am not from Novus, but I am a soldier. I only ask that you allow me to see your leader, so I may plead my case.”And with this he glances to each face, hoping they may allow him to help.
...I want to shoulder the weight till my back breaks, I want to run till my lungs give up.
OOC: Written on my phone so I apologize for any weirdness :3 all are welcome!!!!
A sealed scroll, tied with ribbons of gold and ivory was delivered to each and every solar court by an owl of mottled tan and white. Her eyes, beady black and piercing, would stare at the group assembled, watching them with a knowing gaze as one would take the rolled parchment affixed to her leg and reveal the contents hidden away.
Her next stop was Denocte. Like Terrastella, Alba was no stranger to this court of moonlight and stars. This was not her first visit.
Soundlessly she swept down and through the markets, searching among the crowd to spot any familiar face. Taking roost upon one of the market stalls before a gathering of horses, she offered the scroll to be taken and read.
'To our friends in Denocte;
You are cordially invited to participate in the union between Somnus and Eulalie of the Dawn Court. On the first day of Fall, a gathering will be had to celebrate the marital union between both souls within the Delumine capitol, blessed beneath the knowing eyes of the Wise One, Oriens.
We look forward to sharing our joy and love with you on this very special day.
Blessed be,
Somnus and Eulalie.’
As before, Alba did not remain for very long. She allowed the words to be said before taking off, her final destination of sand and sun in mind.
---
This thread is set in the summer of 503 and before the acts within Denocte from Raum, and the Raum/Seraphina challenge. A link will be provided once the wedding celebration has begun.
Oh, how time seems to move. How it barrels in like an ocean wave, roaring, rushing, but can move as softly, as gently as a breeze. How it sweeps her up in its grasp—dancing, laughing, running—but then can spin her slowly, brushing past her casually in the street. Time can do so many things. It can heal all wounds physical and spiritual. It can repair things broken; hearts, bridges, hopes. And when time aligns just perfectly, it can bring two souls together on completely different paths and change their lives forever.
Time had done that for Eulalie.
It had brought her Somnus, and with him in her life all the things she has gone through, all the things she will go through, are nothing. They become stepping stones, easy to conquer. No mountains too high, no rivers too wide. In him, in them together, all things are no longer obstacles but just experiences. Together there is nothing that they cannot face off against and defeat. Eulalie’s love for him has always been true, neverending, and recent events have only solidified that.
Time. It indeed gave Somnus to her, and in turn she gave herself to him.
In the time since he had proposed to her, they have been swept up in planning. So much has happened since that early summer day when they stood alone in their rooms and perhaps realized something that their hearts have known all along: that they are meant for each other. That together they are whole.
And together they climb the slopes of the Arma Mountains, together to Veneror they go, with the barely rising sun before them. The night flees before the dawn, stars laying down to bed for the day ahead as the pair goes. Higher, higher, to the peak of the mountains. The altars of the gods almost seemed to beckon them, calling them forth.
The cathedral rises up in front of them, carved out of the mountain. Weathered, solid stone rises over their heads, arching up, up, up. Within lie the long abandoned foundations where the gods statued forms once stood. But still their presences lingered, still the hallowed sanctuary requests of them respect and reverence, and Eulalie obliges. She stands outside its grand entrance and looks at the way the pale early morning sunlight reaches its fingers around its lines and angles.
Then she looks at the man beside her, wreathed in gold and golden light, and cannot help the way her heart jumps, the way it leaps and cries and sings all at once. She smiles, and her eyes are light, shining with the love the fills her and leaves her breathless.
She reaches out for him, brushing her muzzle against his cheek and pressing a soft, gentle kiss there. “Ready?” she asks him, the question floating in the tranquil silence around them. Oh, there will be a formal wedding later this day, with all their friends and loved ones from all across Novus to celebrate with. But this trip to Veneror was only for them and Oriens, and what better time to ask for the god’s blessing but during the dawn.
After a moment’s assurance that Somnus is at her side, Eulalie steps within the walls of the mountain cathedral. Her steps echo off the high vaulted ceilings, like a heartbeat, getting softer and softer the longer it carries on. She walks until she is standing before Orien’s vacant place within the sanctuary. She looks at the pedestal, at the offerings laid at the ground, at his feet, and her smile softens. Her heart prepares itself for this moment, thudding gently in her chest. She can feel it all across her skin, a steady drumbeat.
“Oriens,” her voice is a song, sweet and melodic and chiming in the cool morning air. She looks at Somnus again, and all the words she can ever think to say are there in her eyes. Then, she gently reaches up and unclasps the thin golden necklaces she wears. There is a coolness against her skin where the metal leaves it blank, and she holds them up momentarily before placing them among the other offerings there, “these necklaces represent a turning point in my life. They represent the moment life became new for me, after a difficult time.”
Her heart skips and soars, and her skin shivers with Somnus’ nearness. Oh, she would never get used to the feel of his warmth on her skin, the sound of his breath in her ears. “A life that has brought Somnus to me, the greatest gift that I could ever receive,” she breathes in, filling her lungs with air that is brimming with the smell of him, “I humbly ask you to bless our union, so that we might step into a new life together, as one.” And she steps closer to Somnus so that her side might bush against him, and she waits with a racing, hopeful heart. She finds herself at time's mercy again.
A sealed scroll, tied with ribbons of gold and ivory was delivered to each and every solar court by an owl of mottled tan and white. Her eyes, beady black and piercing, would stare at the group assembled, watching them with a knowing gaze as one would take the rolled parchment affixed to her leg and reveal the contents hidden away.
Solterra was a new land for her. Unlike Terrastella or Denocte, she had only been to the Day Court once before, and the visit had lacked much of familiarity that the others had held. Somnus spoke highly of Seraphina, however, and the barn owl had no issues as she soared through the air and through the desert. Lucky for her, she did not forget the way there.
Arriving at the sand-packed streets of the Solterra capitol, Alba searched for the silvered form of the Queen. It was only nearby to her that she perched, the rolled piece of parchment unable to be missed.
Once taken, it would read in elegant penmanship;
“To our friends in Solterra;
You are cordially invited to participate in the union between Somnus and Eulalie of the Dawn Court. On the first day of Fall, a gathering will be had to celebrate the marital union between both souls within the Delumine capitol, blessed beneath the knowing eyes of the Wise One, Oriens.
We look forward to sharing our joy and love with you on this very special day.
Blessed be,
Somnus and Eulalie.’
Her final letter delivered, Alba took to the skies once more and flew for home.
---
This thread is set in the summer of 503 and before the acts within Denocte from Raum, and the Raum/Seraphina challenge. A link will be provided once the wedding celebration has begun.
A sealed scroll, tied with ribbons of gold and ivory was delivered to each and every solar court by an owl of mottled tan and white. Her eyes, beady black and piercing, would stare at the group assembled, watching them with a knowing gaze as one would take the rolled parchment affixed to her leg and reveal the contents hidden away.
First, she ventured to the Dusk Court. Her flight to Terrastella was effortless; this was not the first time that Alba had traveled to these parts, and it would not be the last.
Arriving at the citadel, she swept into the courtyard with a flurry of feathers. Some might recognize her as the messenger of King Somnus, but she knew many would not. Regardless, Terrastella was the first on her journey of deliveries, as it had been Terrastella that had sent assistance to the young prince Regis when he had required it.
Once taken and unrolled, the scroll would be read with fine, grand penmanship.
’To our friends in Terrastella;
You are cordially invited to participate in the union between Somnus and Eulalie of the Dawn Court. On the first day of Fall, a gathering will be had to celebrate the marital union between both souls within the Delumine capitol, blessed beneath the knowing eyes of the Wise One, Oriens.
We look forward to sharing our joy and love with you on this very special day.
Blessed be,
Somnus and Eulalie.’
From there, Alba would move on. Taking to the skies, the barn owl would venture on to the next court, until all of her invitations had been delivered.
---
This thread is set within summer of 503 and before the acts within Denocte from Raum, and the Raum/Seraphina challenge. A link will be provided once the wedding celebration has begun.
Dawnlight heeds the horizon, orange and yellow breech the blue of the sky and Reckitt groans, slow movement with eyes closed. She won’t see the perfect sunlight of the morning just yet, nor the flock of birds that soar so freely in the cloudless sky, she will hear them instead- their day song beautiful against her snowy ears. Each chord is struck so carefully and flawlessly, the notes have no meaning in words, the lyrics lost to her, but the feeling behind them is enough. Reckitt stirs, stiff limbs, they feel so heavy today. Every muscle in her being aches, the ground is no cushion but the sound of moving water is welcome- perhaps she is beside the stream of Elysium.
Why does it hurt so much?
Ashen lids lift, so slowly, as if the effort of waking is too much in this moment. Kitt sees the water, breathes in the smell of the damp earth beneath her, golden eyes flow to the green of the flora on the riverbank. Everything is seen past the curl of white lashes, so long, she doesn’t remember them ever being so lengthy, so fine like butterfly wings against her lids. Blinking, once, twice, she heaves her head up from ground, heaves it- her neck feels like piece of twine to lift a weight.
“Ouch,” she says quietly, the way her tongue moves in her mouth feels thick, unusual as it forms such a simple complaint of discomfort. The smells, nothing smells like home, the grass is missing the usual company of flowers she knows so well. Twisted legs, her joints ache more than they ever have, especially on her right- a pain she had learned to live with over the years, now it throbs.
Legs, looking down, eyes trailing the length of her now overgrown form. Perceiving through eyes that don’t feel like her own, feeling the mass of a body that can’t be possible. Hairless, alien, why does she hooves instead of paws? Where had all her fur gone? There are legs that are so impossibly long, with pale hair tangled and woven around the ground beneath her, silken threads of spun spider webs to anoint her neck and her backside.
Every nerve she owns is on fire, she wants to move, to run but her body will not comply- she is frozen in her fear, pained to exist. Within her breast, her heart hammers, the pace of a hummingbird's wings, her thoughts follow. Reckitt tosses her head back with a snort, finding leverage against her mobility, or lack thereof.
“Verona!” she shouts wildly, uncertain and fearful of the answer she might get, afraid there will be no answer at all.
like the holding of hands like the breaking of glass
Y
ou awaken to the sound of birds beginning a morning song. their voices are soft on the breeze that comes through your window, open just a crack to let in the fresh air. you see the first smoldering rays lighten the room. oriens begins to paint his fingers across the sky, turning midnight blue and orange; the frosty signs of winter crawling in. for a moment, blinking back your sleepy tears, you feel at peace.
it does not last long.
there is a flurry of feathers and blanket as you fumble from your bed, landing swiftly onto the floor to stretch both wings and legs. a yawn escapes as you trot to the door, giving the room one last passing glance before sliding into the hallway. most of court is still asleep at this hour. only the servants and the guards are awake just barely, most still foggy from their night’s sleep. this is the perfect time for you to escape; to slip past the sentinels making their changes.
you preferred wandering the halls yourself, hoping to find something new and exciting. searching for trouble wherever you could. perhaps even listening for gossip about the murders. despite how terrified you truly were about the idea of a monster running lose, it was rivaled only by your curiosity to see a creature that could manage such horrors. so from shadow to shadow you lingered, hiding behind corners and nooks in your excursion for gossip.
@ tag | "speaks" | notes: please excuse me being so rusty, my writing is terrible now D':
you shouldn't have to pay for your love
with your bones and your flesh
There is a hush when he walks through the cobblestone streets of his Court, a heavy weight pressed down against his shoulders, and not for the first time, he wonders what he is about to get himself into -- his idea is dangerous, the sort of thing that could get him killed, and yet…
and yet, he cannot just stand off to the side and watch things happen any longer, not when there is war on the horizon and their queen nowhere to be found. He has never met her, but he has heard her stories in the mouths of her people, and he knows that she is one who might just be worthy of his loyalty, that she is not just here for the crown to rest upon her head.
“Ma'am,” He calls out to the golden pegasus when he spots her, quickening his step so that he might draw up alongside her in the midst of the search parties beginning to form. “...My name is Anzhelo. I wanted to offer my services to the Court… it is the least I can do.”He pauses and takes a deep breath before lifting his head up slightly, sorely missing the dragonscale necklace -- oh, how he could use the extra courage right now!
