As Essielure lounges in her room, reading one of her many books from the Library, she decides to take a trip the Rapax River. Placing her book neatly alongside the others on her sidetable, she begins to pack.
Packing a small lunch and making sure she grabs her fishing rod, Essie heads out the door and makes her way towards Rapax River. Her hooves clop against the cobblestone as she hums a sweet tune her father used to sing while they were fishing together. As she passes the marketplace before exciting the citadel, she smells the intoxicating aroma of freshly baked bread. essie couldnt resist, she trots right up to the vendor and purchases a small loaf to take with her. before placing the loaf inside her satchel, she takes a quick bite of the warm bread. "mmmmmm" essie mumbles as her mouth is full of the sweet snack. she continues on her way.
Finally reaching the river, essie flops her satchel on the ground next to her and abruptly plops her rump right down next to it. she unlatches her fishing rod from her satchel and begins to assemble it. carefully making sure the hook is tied tightly to the line, before placing the poor worm onto it, essie does this without a pause. taking another bite from the bread she purchased, essie tosses her line into the water. crumbs fall down her chin as she watches the line with intensity.
It's a tender night that finds her in the mountains among the ash and what little is left of the bones of creatures not as lucky as she. The stars and moon are bright over head and somehow the graveyard mountain looks lovely in such a silver glow. A grotesque sort of beauty, dead things surrounding a unicorn in a borrowed skin who doesn't know how to live.
She would be better off as bones. The goats and birds were better at living than her. They thrived once in these mountains and she remembers watching them with something akin to jealousy a hot fluttering in her heart. Now she only watches what is left of them in the mountains and touches her nose to brittle bone instead of warm, furred flesh.
Isra moves among them with tears in her eyes. It's a bitter loneliness this night, a time for healing, for burying the past in loam and ash.
Ahead she can see what is left of a set of horns. The skull is half charred but Isra knows what beast it once came from. She remembers what sound their hooves made as they floated like angels down the mountain-side. She remembers how brave they were, to fight and live and tame the rocks that not much dared to thrive in. Isra idolized the goats and the freedom that made up every moment of their lives.
Oh to be a wild thing, she thinks, to know not language and such an unnatural sort of suffering.
She's silent in her digging, knees bowed against the ash and rock. It stings under her skin but still she digs her horn into the dirt over and over again until a hole opens up before her efforts. Behind her a dozen other mounds of dirt rise up like spots of darkness in the silver-lit land.
Isra is tender as she catches a curved, blunted horn with the brutal point of hers. Their horns catch together, sea-marked girl and charred skull, and she drags the remains into the hole. It's a morbid sort of burial and she refuses to her her telekinesis to bury the wild things. It was mortals that killed them and mortals should bare the responsibility of burying the dead.
This is the work of men, broken men. There are no gods here on the mountain, only Isra who sobs as she starts to bury those horns that once were borne so regal and proud upon a noble creature who deserved not to burn.
The night is still young and the moon glitters on all the bones she has left to bury. It's a sea of dead before her and somehow it suits the way her chain rings like an old church bell that been swallowed up the salt-water, muted and full only of sorrow.
* * * * * the religion of the dead lives in my bones
Terrastella was a place of beauty and Orion? Well. Orion was more than pleased to visit some place that wasn't the inner chambers of the Delumine capital. He loved his home with all his heart, but sometimes he had to wander off. Somnus had told him that he needed to get out more often anyway, explore perhaps, meet others. He was Emissary for a reason, meeting other courts was a part of his position, and while he had taken care of his own people first and foremost, it was time to start meeting others and forging bonds and friendships.
The cliffs carried a cold breeze of autumn, and his horned head lifted slightly as he squinted, feeling the cool rush over his sides. Autumn was a lovely time of the year, he found he enjoyed watching the leaves change and the world prepare itself for the crisp snows of winter.
Pausing, he rested himself a ways away from the edge of a cliff, casting his gaze over to the horizon. It was a lovely vantage point to see the rest of the lands of Dusk Court, to admire the view of the changing trees below, and the swamps that were beginning to hibernate. An ear flicked, and he turned himself a little as he heard hooves, pausing his wandering thoughts only to smile as he saw a vaguely familiar being, like the sky at night.
"Ah... Umbra, wasn't it?" he asked, polite, welcoming. Company was always nice.
This was.. strange. Being back in Novus, back in the south, back in the Dusk Court. He had shed his mantle of Regent, to follow his beloved back home. Not once had he thought that they'd come back, but he hadn't exactly worried about it either. They had wandered back to her home, to her family, and he had been welcomed as well.
As it were, in their journey, their stay, Valkyr had come along. Their first child, perhaps their only, though there was no one that could say anything like that. Perhaps there would be more in the future, only the deities and their futures had the answer to that. As it were, Máni heard the crunch underhoof of grass, and he lifted his head, blowing out a soft breath and gazing skyward. It was overcast, though nothing here compared of the old lands, of back in Brynjar where he'd been born. The cold was fierce there, likely to cause loss of limb if you weren't careful.
Alas, here he was in Novus, the warmth on his skin as violet eyes focused from the sky, to the horizon. It was a pleasant day, there was no denying that. The sun tucked behind the clouds, the chill breeze ruffling his mane. A fine day to reacquaint himself with lands he had called home only a small stretch of time back.
Atop a tiny mound betwixt three trees, El Toro surveyed the land. It was flat. Not as flat as the desert - though much of that was adorned with dunes - but still, very, very flat. Compared to his usual grounds, it was more exciting, with growing things and animals that weren't scorpions, and in the shade of the rare trees the autumn wind sent a chill down his spine. A bed of evergreen needles made a blanket at his feet, albeit an itchy one he would not lie upon. This pause in movement was a brief respite, but a standing one, and Toro was ready to be on the move again. He appreciated the coolness of the air, far different from Solterra despite being only at its border, and the morning sun did not make his jewelry sear against his skin. The next time he took it off he would have to check for filigreed burns.
Slowly, the white stallion descended the shaded pine-hill, pausing only when a whiff of the air put him on alert. His pristine ears swiveled as his eyes scanned the plains. There. Brown lumps against the horizon were coming forward, slowly, making their way across the grazing land in the chill of half-risen sun. He wasn't quite certain what these beasts were called - they weren't present in his homeland, and certainly not Solterra - but they were bigger and louder than he was, and for all the fight he had in his bones he would not dare to anger such a creature. If he kept his distance, they would leave him be, and that was all he desired.
His blood ran hot. He was livid. Steam rushed from his nostrils with every exhale, smoke off the wavering desert sand sucked through every inhale. His hooves would have stamped had they not sunk into the ground with every step, threating to pull him into some ancient crypt. He would have liked that. There would be no one but the skeletons to piss him off. His tails slapped against his flanks, as if swatting away flies. Flies that could have been scapegoats for his irritation, but he was too far into the dunes to encounter even that. A crunch startled the stallion; looking down, he found a small scorpion had been crushed beneath his mighty hoof. He found no pleasure in it, only disgust.
El Toro's source of anger was miles away now, and yet, it had accompanied him every step from it. He'd found some overgrown winged colt to knock down a peg - to prideful, those boys were - and he had, only, the kid had used some inane magic to singe Toro's rump following his defeat. Many of the fillies were too young to interest him, but there was one - the colt's older sister, he thought - and she was pretty enough to send the stallion reeling at the colt's indiscretion. His mercurial sense of honor was too great to turn on the colt - he was a child, anyway, and had already suffered defeat - but Toro let out a scream and charged the arrogant spaw, making a fool of himself for even humoring a child, a boy! His friends had laughed, the fillies tittered and that young mare smirked and walked off with them. He heard an "Old man!" called over their shoulders. He could gore them if he wanted!
He didn't want to.
But he could.
He didn't, anyway, and instead had gone stomping off into the desert - a bad idea, if he paused to think he might realize he'd lost his way (again) - and if out of both rage and idiocy, he had done so under the midday sun. Its rays scorched his skin - he was not made for this star's light - but he attributed the searing sensation to hatred incarnate on his flesh. He'd regret this, if he ever got back home.
The world trembled. It shook with the ire of a disgruntled god, one whose power exceeded those Novus was most familiar with. Only Tempus could take hold of the courts as if they were mere playthings at his whim, and while the nations certainly felt his indignation, it seemed the hub of it all was exactly where Avdotya found herself: the Summit. Boulders were sent tumbling into spaces that once granted entry - and more importantly, escape - for the very beings Tempus had invited to his gathering of greats. They were their nation's supposed figureheads, kings and queens of their realms, and now they were trapped like vermin, suddenly forced to scramble to dig themselves out while they cursed their gods. Their tongues dripped with only a fool's irreverence, each word burning hot as they spilled from their lips... as if their scorn somehow had an effect on the almighty. Avdotya let slip a quiet chuckle from outside of their prison. Let them drown in their impiety.
It wasn't long before visiting citizens leapt to the aid of their sovereigns, buzzing around the rubble not far from where she stood within the trees; they called on those with magic to step forward, to lend their command of any shred of dirt and help their leaders. They wanted to utilize god-given magic, talents that were granted to the denizens of Novus by the very beings so many of them had held in contept. The viper laughed once more at the thought of the irony, standing idly by as she toyed with the soil below. Her creations came and went with the wind, small and meaningless yet pointedly calculated. She could help them if the desire truly struck her, but she saw no value in wasting her efforts here.
If it were up to her, she would have stripped them all of any gift they had ever been granted by the deities. These were gods they were challenging, not simple creatures playing politics at court. They could smite any single one of them in the blink of a celestial eye and yet there stood simple commoners chastising them for their inaction- as if they were Novus' damned babysitters. She nearly hissed her displeasure from under her breath. The woman had experienced more than her share of injustice at the hands of Zolin and the Court of Day, but not for a moment did she presume to lay blame on Solis' golden shoulders. In fact, it was her fierce devotion to the sun god that drove her to break away from the boy king's chains and run the blade of her spear across his very throat... and here she was, with everything she ever could have wanted.
And so, Avdotya continued to watch from afar with a thick lather of smugness upon her face. Perhaps this was what it felt like to be the sort of god Solis had been accused of.
It was a normal night in the markets, filled with hustle and bustle, smoke and perfumes, laughter and yelling. Just a normal night in southeastern Court.
Until the first dragon showed up.
It was small, perhaps a foot or so in length, with midnight-black scales that glittered in the firelight. He snuck between the stands, sticking near to the shadows so as not to be seen, collecting fallen coins all along the way, raiding a few coin pouches along the way.
He was joined by a friend with scales of the deepest forest green, then another who shine a brilliant rosy pink.
Together they scurried through the streets, leaving a trail of golden signos in their wake.
At the middle of the markets, the moon carving began to glow for the first time in centuries: a brilliant full moon, filling the circle entirely. It was here that the miniature dragons ran to, their reptilian laughs reverberating through the streets as they appeared in a shower of coins, chiming as they fell to the cobbled ground.
All at once, the night became alive with leathery wings and fire floating through the Court, dragons of every color invading the skies. They swooped low to the ground, causing mayhem and laughter as they jumped from horse back to horse back, breathing spouts of flame and stealing the occasional coin or apple to toss.
Eventually they would calm down enough to integrate themselves into the Markets like stray cats… but for tonight, and several following nights, the city was their’s.
The pygmy dragons have returned to the Court.
The Night Market board is finally open!
Your character is welcome to discover the dragons antics and be swept up in them, they’re sure to cause a bit of chaos! They can be used as NPCs according to their description in the information!
You can reply to this thread anytime before July 31st to claim partial participation in a SWP, but one post max per character if you choose!
The mare wandered slowly through the Swamp, seeming in no particular rush. Her trail often turned this way and that, double back on itself and taking wide detours before always returning its aim east. A shawl covered her body, but the color blazing upon her skin was undeniable, unmistakable.
To any who might be watching, she always appeared just out of sight, as if a mirage. She disappeared in the foliage and reappeared and random, time and distance bending beneath her very will. But wherever she was seen, Vespera was sure it was no mistake. She knew who would see her, and she knew why it was they and not another.
She knew what they were looking for.
She appeared to the sick and the wounded, making no discrimination between equine and animal. From innocents crapes to life threatening wounds, from mild dehydration to sever convulsions, she appeared. Those who could walk, she led; those who could not, she lended them her strength to follow.
She brought them to the Hospital, to the healers who could help them. And all along the way, she planted bushes of white lillies, so that when she was gone… others might see them and find their way alone.
The Hospital is officially open!
You are welcome to create threads either following the lillies or following Vespera to the hospital, or to find one of the creatures she’s created to lead you there! But please no direct contact with Vespera… for now c;
You can reply to this thread anytime before July 31st to claim partial participation in a SWP, but one post max per character if you choose!
It was the middle of the day when the sun stopped.
At its highest part of the day, it simply ceased its arc through the sky, as if Solis had simply abandoned his charge in its time of need. As the hours passed, the day stretched longer and longer, heat blazing through the auburn skies.
A single golden figure, whose mane burned brighter than fire, walked between the walls of the Canyon. His hoofprints seared the sand, turning it glassy and reflective. His hoofprints could be traced all the way back to the capitol, a distinctive trail leading south. No matter how the wind blew, the trail remained in place: it could not be buried, it could not be hidden. The god would not allow it.
He stops at last, scrutinizing an unremarkable section of canyon walls. There was nothing that would outwardly make it unique, and yet…
Solis stomps his hoof, and the ground rumbles softly. The walls of the Canyon shake, tossing off decades of dirt and grime and gods know what else. Bit by bit the Colosseum is revealed, as if shaking off its cowl and revealing its face to the world.
With a smile, the golden figure disappears back into the Canyon. His mirror-like prints lead directly to the entrance of the grand building before stopping: the god wishes not to be seen himself, but to show his creation to his people.
Welcome to Solis’ Colosseum.
The Colosseum is officially open!
Your character is welcome to be discover the hoofprints and follow them to the Colosseum, see Solis’ figure in the distance, or stumble upon it in a new manner, but pls no interaction with Solis directly. C’x
You can reply to this thread anytime before July 31st to claim partial participation in a SWP, but one post max per character if you choose!