He is a tall, dark shadow standing atop one of the prairie’s gently-rolling hills. An occasional breeze rises from the distant ocean, dancing through the grass to reach up and play lazily with the curls of his hair, but the stallion remains unmoved. This place…it feels familiar, somehow. If he were to allow his eyelids to droop so that his lashes blurred his vision, Fang could imagine that he is home again—that the rolling valley is colored with the blue flowers of Vasanta, and the massive tree of Tyravahni’s Library stands not far off, with his beloved goddess’ shrine tucked just beyond. He would be able to hear the plants again, and listen to the birds as they sing praises of this beautiful haven.
He could lose himself here, in this place between dreams and reality.
But the sudden wrenching of his heart is enough to snap his eyes open again, grounding him in the unquestionable truth that this is not his home. His home, Blue Sage Meadows and everything that he had known and loved, is forever gone—swallowed by shadows and ash and death.
(Adira, the cavity in his heart cries, are you safe?)
Swallowing a groan that instead leaves him in a slow hiss of air, Fang shifts his weight against the pain, both physical and emotional, that will seemingly eat away at him until there is nothing left to fight back. He feels calloused, scabbed over, and raw all at once. I’m tired of fighting, he thinks to himself, and wonders if there is any truth in the words, knowing he doesn’t have it in him to simply give up. All the same, he is tired—tired of fighting for the chance to live, tired of fighting back the sorrow that twists tighter and tighter around his heart. He remembers the anguish he had felt after Bella had abandoned him, and reminds himself of a lesson he had learned: how important it is to feel.
So it is here, alone in this foreign prairie, where he doesn’t have to be strong for Requiem, or himself, or anyone else, that Fang finally begins to give in to the pain. Just a moment, he tells himself, just let me go for a moment.
That is perhaps where he is most comfortable—he was born in the wilds, after all. The society (if it could even be called that) of his parents had been a primitive one, excelling only in ways that involved war, brute strength, or savagery. They were a barbaric people. Being sent away is perhaps the most fortunate turn of fate that could have ever happened to him. In the years that have passed, Fang has been able to evolve from boy to man. Not by the chiseled hammer of cruelty and bloodthirst that his family had wanted for him, but by the gathering of experience and knowledge—through pain, joy, and sorrow, he has grown.
And yet, even after all this, the stallion still finds himself amazed by each grand capitol he finds himself in. He had not even seen a proper building until well into his travels, let alone an established city—Caeleste’s great capitol had been his first. Looking up now at the spires, their rooftops haloed by the rays of the setting sun, he remembers the first time he had seen such ornate architecture. There is a beauty there to appreciate, the meticulously-carved stone standing as regal as the mountains that rise in the distance.
But there is something natural and familiar about the wild that calls to him.
Unspoiled, untouched, where nature flourishes unchallenged.
He tells himself that it is his curiosity that has driven him here to Denocte’s capitol, and while that might be true, his memories remind him that it is more. He is weary of fighting for his life (every breath clawed, scratched, and fought for), drawn towards the city lights like a dying man to water. There is life truly being lived here, he realizes as he watches the people bustle through the streets, recognizing for the first time how starved he has been of the simplicity of normal life. How they leave their homes without wondering if they will return, how they wander without constantly glancing over their shoulder, how the steady approach of dusk doesn’t send them scurrying for shelter.
They live without fear of the Terrors, and he thanks them for it.
Posted by: Liam - 09-26-2021, 09:56 PM - Forum: The Day Court
- No Replies
Liam Kenway
The Day Court.
The stallion had only been here once before, and since he was the new Sovereign of Dusk Court, he felt it was a good opportunity to further visit and make himself known within the citizens of Day. Leviathan had visited Dusk and they'd had a decent chat* and Liam was working on a decision that would affect not only the Dusk Court citizens, but would also affect the Day Court as well. It wasn't going to be an easy decision, but it was one that he would definitely need to make, especially if he wanted to remain diplomatic and respectful toward the gray grullo stallion and the court he ruled over.
The journey to Solterra reminded him much of the first time that he'd been there. It'd been just to experience the way that Solterrans lived their lives, what they experienced on a daily basis, and what supplies they had that the Terrastellans didn't have and needed and vice versa. While there, he'd spied the pile of a body lying in some darkened, forgotten alleyway. Upon first inspection, Liam assumed the pile to be dead, but upon closer investigation, it was alive, and after several rousing nudges to the equine's side, the other horse staggered to his feet and told him to get fucked before stumbling off. Needless to say, the copper-burnished stallion stood there in shock, watching as the other stallion wearily stalked off. There had been a cloying scent clinging to the blue roan, and after Liam caught the scent, he knew the other stallion was sick. Really sick, bordering on dying.
But today was a supply run, trading the goods that Solterra needed for goods that Terrastella needed. The merchants were lively, happily chatting as they swapped the goods they had a surplus of, while also making sure they had enough for the trip back home. As he made his way through the market and interacted with his own merchants and those of the Day Court, he spotted a dark figure out of the corner of his eye and frowned to himself, confusion filling him. Turning toward it, Liam informed his royal advisor as to where he was going, and he departed the market, following the dark form out of the market.
"Liam Speaks."
Notes;; I struggled with muse halfway through, I'm sorry :c
Tag;; @Mernatius
Voice claim;; Chris Evans
Words;; 378
i feel like the flowers in this vase,
he just bought 'em home one day,
"Ain't they beautiful" he said
Why was she here?
It wasn't her normal scene, but she'd wanted a change of scenary. A fresh breath of air. New sights to see, new people to meet. A festival felt right. But it also made her feel . . . odd. All around her others were laughing, talking, giggling over the effects of drinks being served. It was merry, it was vibrant. The fae in her was delighted by the careless laughter and fun out and about. But the Caelum she'd become, so refined, reserved, regal, didn't remember how to let lose like that. So instead she stood by the doors, a sheer shawl wrapped around her shoulders, embroidered with lace flowers. Ribbons were strung up in her long ivory mane and tail, gleaming through the locks in a silver, glittering shine, that sparkled like diamonds under the lighting, when it caught it just right. But the flowers that bloomed in her mane, occasionally shedding soft, pale pink petals, where based entirely off of her magic feeding of her anxiety.
She was a queen, technically.
So why did she want to hide. Briefly she wish that Israfel and Lu were there. That their own vibrancy together could lead her away from the shell she wanted to retreat into. Perhaps bring her back to life enough to let lose and have fun. Or Syn to be there to feed her drink after drink, tempting her to unbury the fae that wanted to dance among the crowd. Or Vikander, handsome Vikander who would see the paralyzing discomfort, recognize it. She almost could imagine him taking sympathy to lead her to a quiet corner. Perhaps they'd get to talking, learn more about each other . . . . She snorted, chasing that wistful thought away with a shake of her head.
No, she was a queen, she could do this.
No need to remember she was the queen of a ruined, dead kingdom. The fae fluttered through the air, careful not to touch the ground, knowing if she did, she'd leave flowers all about this floor, and had no desire to be kicked out for what she couldn't control. Flowers that bloomed with each footstep, ready to defend the Lady Fae of the Summer Courts. Instead she hovered just so, her wings dimly fluttering, flimsy and delicate, as they shed a small layer of iridescent fairy dust as she moved through the crowds. Those touched by the dusting would feel their own energies rejuvenating, those ready for a break from dancing suddenly ready to go for another few songs.
Her magic was always a healing touch.
She paid them little mind, heading to the tables heavy with treats and drinks. She took a chilled glass of what looked like some sort of shimmering wine. Taking a cautious sip, she coughed at the unexpected candy-like flavored, immediately worried she'd partaken of sugar, only to realize it was a type of sweet, sweet berry. She took another sip, slowly letting herself lower to the ground, only to find her hooves wouldn't touch the floor, the drinking forcing her to hover a few inches off the ground. A briefly amused smile crossed her muzzle, lighting up her chocolate eyes, as she finished the drink and handed the empty glass off to a staff. Grabbing a small plate of little sandwiches and fruit, she found a quiet place to stand, or rather hover, next to one of the pillars in the room, content to watch the others having fun, occasionally dipping her head in polite greeting, smiling gently at those who greeted her with familiarity.
Still, she couldn't help but just feel . . . lonely.
Posted by: Fang - 09-26-2021, 08:32 PM - Forum: Vitreus Lake
- No Replies
Fang
“Req…Requiem?”
Her name is a rasping gasp on his lips, a choking sigh forced out by lungs that still grapple for breath. His eyes suddenly open, wide and panicked beneath the pain and exhaustion that weigh on his body, compressing over his aching muscles like a heavy blanket, pressing his cheek into the damp grass as he lies on the ground. The moonlight rims his nostrils as they strain with each breath—his heart continues to hammer against his ribs, charged by the remnants of adrenaline that fade slowly, slowly from his veins.
Fang remembers running. A frantic, terrifying race for their lives, fleeing from shadowy claws and hungry teeth that sought to steal the life from their bodies for nothing more than the thrill of the sport.
With their haunting shrieks echoing in his ears, the stallion forces himself up from the grass, grunting with the effort of gathering his long legs beneath him. He stumbles once, leather wings reaching out from his sides to steady himself, before he is able to stand again. So tired, his mind cries, so sore. Blinking, Fang glances down at his legs, noticing the collection of lacerations that pepper his shoulders and knees. Most are smeared with dried blood and have already begun scabbing over, though there are some that have reopened—he watches as a red bead of blood oozes slowly down his knee before it falls unceremoniously to the ground. Flesh wounds, Fang decides, and steels himself to lift his gaze to his surroundings.
He hadn’t expected to recognize this place, but the reality of being faced with this foreign world is more jarring than he anticipated. Memories are distorted, violent, and painful as they come to him—they had gotten separated. Where is she?
Still breathing heavily, his ember eyes are cast anxiously around, hoping to catch a glimpse of ivory or gold beneath the stars, wishing more than anything to see her ruby eyes sparkling back at him. Staggering forward a step, he whickers into the night, every part of him reaching out for her. “Requiem!” He cries, the ghost of old wounds haunting his lungs with the effort of his call—but his voice is hoarse, and easily broken over the surface of the water. Her name is quickly lost to the darkness.
i've been around the world, seen a lot, seen a little
but everything is better when it's just plain simple
always sleeping in, skipping out monday night
counting on my tips, saving up for whatever
The mare yawned drowsily.
Walking out of the swamp, she glanced one last time to check on the sleeping bonded, before heading back to where she was supposed to meet Persephone this morning, for an adventure to the Library. A part of her wondered if she'd run into Sol while she was in Delumine, or Jiri. But she also knew helping Pers was important, and she wanted to help her new friend. The sun was just starting to rise, and as it did so, more light came into the world, slowly suffocating Bel's glow until nothing was left of it. She smiled quietly to herself, waking up more and more with each step, before spotting the dark form of her friend, the gleaming antlers, so like gems.
"Persephone!"
Her call was warm, friendly, just as it was last night, as the mare approached, the soft tumble of water vapors falling off her spine casually. She picked up her pace, bridging the distance and grinned, "I hope you're wide awake for our adventure. I'm eager to see what we can find in the library." Her smile softened, "And if we can't find any information for you there, well we'll just keep looking in other places until we do find something, okay?" She added with a smile, glancing towards the sun, "Do you want to stop by the markets before we head out for a bite of breakfast? Or should we go ahead and start crossing the ways to Delumine now?"
do you believe in reinarnation?
'cause i thought i saw your soul
I checked the door again.
No change.
Locked.
Always Locked.
It was.
Always.
LOCKED.
Ever since they realized I'd snuck to that meeting. You don't need to be there. and We told you we'd tell you later and What if something had happened to you, and of course my favorite part, You are our daughter, you do what we tell you. Now I am stuck. My door to the hallway was locked. My door to the front balcony was locked. I was trapped, in this stupid room, behind these stupid walls. Sure, they let me out for meals, and for lessons, but other than that. I was stuck in here. And I was constantly under watch, three to five guards; every time I was allowed to leave.
This wasn't a home.
It was a prison.
A jail cell.
I was a trapped princess in a tower. A pretty doll behind a display cabinet's glass. An ornament that was to be admired, to be obedient. A perfect daughter. A lady of the house. The Heiress of Stendahl. Well fuck this. Fuck them! I stared around at my destroyed room with a twisted sense of pride in my gut. The draperies around my bed were torn, my mattress shredded. Feathers from my pillows still floated through the air from where I had stabbed stabbed stabbed them. Nicknacks broken. Ornaments pulled off walls. Fancy clothes shredded, jewelry smashed.
My door swung open and I froze.
My parents were staring in horror.
I felt a slow grin split across my face, I got tired of looking at the same old place for weeks on end. I explained casually. My mother stepped aside as my father strolled towards me, and I felt a twist of fear in my gut. I knew that look, I'd seen it before in previous life times. So I wasn't to surprised by the force of the slap, even as I hit the ground. I winced as my father loomed over me. You think this is a joke? You belong to us, you are our daughter. We decide who you talk to, where you go, what you do, how you act, what you say. I stared up, feeling the fear settle over my heart, even as my mother tried to reach out to him, her voice soft. He slapped her touch away, Silence, woman. I am speaking. My mother fell quiet, like a good wife, a good lady of the house. This, was this to be my future as well. To look away, silent as my future husband beat our children for not conforming.
No.
No.
No.
No.
No.
I was on my feet before I knew it, rushing through the hallways, ignoring the hooves pounding behind me. I didn't look down the stairs, didn't try to head to the next level. I knew they would catch me unless I was reckless. And I was always reckless. At the end of the hallway was a window, a large window, and it opened up onto a gentle down-slope roof. I braced myself and leapt through it. A nearly bit through my tongue, trying not to cry at the jagged glass that tore at my limbs, but I didn't stop, shaking most of the glass from my hair, I half ran, half slid down the slope, and taking a deep breath, I JUMPED.
It was like flying.
I'd had wings before you know.
Another life.
An easier life.
I rolled, careful to not impact the ground directly, and struggled to my feet, ignoring the staring guards at the front door that was looking from me, to the guards peering out through the window. I didn't have time for them to come around. I ran. I ran straight to the heart of Dusk, straight to the Citadel with my only salvation. Pain laced up with each step, blood weeping form the small cuts that I ignored in my drive to escape, to escape this life, this future. The ideals of who I was to be, who they wanted me to grow into. I burst through the main doors, raced through the hallways to where Liam had told me I could find him.
I pushed through the doors, panting, LIAM! I'm over it!" I cried, panting as I could finally stop, my legs suddenly folding beneath me, I had to jump out a window and off the roof to escape the manor! I can't keep doing this! I need he-" My words died in the middle of my plea as I looked up at the stranger, You're not Liam." I stood slowly, forcing my limbs not to shake, I apologize for my interruption. I . . . uh, need to find Liam, do you know where he is?" I waited briefly, even as I took a step towards the door.
And another step.
And another step.
Pain shot back up again, and I felt my legs give out once more, wincing as I collided with the ground. Jumping through windows got more dangerous when we started using glass to build with." I didn't bother to get up, didn't explain myself anymore to the stranger as I instead just stayed on the ground, waiting, buying time for my energy to return, trying to ignore the pain in my limbs, and hoping this stranger would at least fetch Liam for me.
FROM THE MOUTH INSIDE THE MIND
@Buchanan Notes:: Adoption process, activate.
flashing and dancing on the horizon
shades of jade and emerald
Slow steps carried the ex-prince through the green fields. Eyes dry of emotion stared ahead, neutral as the newest member of the Dawn court explored the Illuster Meadow for the first time. Quiet, silent were the hills as nothing but the bird songs filled the evening's air. He arrived less than two days ago, joining as he saw no other chance, even though the last thing the stallion wanted right now was to be around others, not after what he has been through, not after the treason he and his family suffered. His own uncle turning his home into a hell. If one's own family would kill their own, why wouldn't strangers do the same? Why should he trust in others? He was here out of necessity and certainly h held no interest in opening himself to horses he didn't know.
He sighed as he stood atop of a hill, looking around. Eyes of red not finding much but green grass, as the sun sank into the horizons. Promising the beginning of another night in these lands he didn't know. As he stared at the nothing, his mind wandered through the resent chaotic events, still seeing the corpses of his parents, how he had to look back at his birth home being now an exiled, a former heir. Now he had nothing but his life, and some of the pride he managed to save. But for how long? And like that, Salazar lost the awareness of time, alien to anything happening around him.
@Israfel has offered @Luvena a seat by her side on the throne. It is up to the court whether or not she is fit to wear the crown.
Second sovereign voting will follow the same rules as normal sovereign voting. Only those with a character in Night court may vote, with only one vote per member. @Sparrow and @Lullivy may not vote. If voting maybe, please let us know your concerns!
Even if the world ignites into flames
You'll be right here by my side
And as it burns away
You smile at me and say that
"Not even death could take me away from you"
They were building a system, she and Luvena.
Slowly they were figuring out what this meant, understanding and building this new dance they wove together every day that was spent in each other’s company. The steps of this waltz were being designed with every move they made, endless and beautiful, a waltz with no music other than their laughter, their words, and their shared, heated glances, and Israfel had never felt a more sense of ‘right’.
Just as well, she also had never felt more stressed. Ruling Denocte was not second nature to her. The Sun Daughter was well aware of her shortcomings, knowing that her temper burned as bright and hot as the fires she manipulated and controlled. It was all too easy to rile her up, to stoke the fires that burned within her, and she would be the first to admit that she was no silver-tongued dignitary or noble with the training or poise needed to make a formal address, or regard a council of local or foreign delegates.
Yet, as time passed and she spent more time with Luvena, treasuring every moment she saw Lu laugh, or smile, or crack a joke, or even frown in that stern-yet-adoring way of hers whenever Israfel said or did anything particularly stupid, something was slowly beginning to slot in place.
They had begun their courtship, yet another part of this elaborate dance. Israfel had never given gift-giving much thought before Luvena, but spoiling the woman with small trinkets picked up through the day, or a bouquet of flowers, or a new selection of teas simply came to be second nature. Spoiling Luvena became a mission, a challenge, and it was one that Denocte’s Queen very much wanted to win.
Israfel knew that she needed Luvena. But just as well, so did Denocte.
Israfel’s weaknesses were carried by Luvena’s profound grace and humble dignity, by her ability to speak softly yet still be heard no matter how loud the room. Israfel’s strengths could protect Luvena’s weaknesses, her frail body easy to shield, and truly, the Sun Daughter had no qualms about being a hefty bulwark for the woman she adored… They made a fantastic, perfect team. A ‘power couple’, Solaris had joked fondly, watching the two as they reclined after a long day of duties.
It was on such a day, stolling together with their shoulders bumping through the gardens of Denocte, watching the setting sun cast the late-summer skies into a beautiful display of a kaleidoscope of colors, that Israfel spoke. The calm breeze played with their hair, and Isra glanced sidelong to reach forward and move an unruly strand that blew in front of Luvena’s glittering turquoise eyes.
“We compliment each other pretty damn well,” she began, picking her words carefully and being patient with them despite the need to just let them all spill out of her lips in a jumbled, unintelligible pour, “You and me. You’re good with addressing people. I’m… Well. I’m not. You’re good at putting them at ease, and understanding them, of showing empathy and strength.” She paused, pressing a kiss to Luvena’s soft neck. Her vermilion eyes glittered in the rays of fading daylight, and already the sounds of songs and shouts echoed through the distant streets of the markets.
She continued, forcing a small smile, but it didn’t last long before her expression sobered. “I’m not good at those things. I’m brash, hot headed, and arrogant. I’m good at fighting and protecting. I can’t debate my way out of a wet blanket… And I’ve realized over the last few weeks that I think Denocte needs more than just what I can offer it, Lu.”
Abruptly, Israfel paused. Golden hooves stood stationary within the soft grasses of the gardens, the late-summer blooms brilliant and beautiful around them. Bushes, hedges, and towering trees abloom could hear their whispers, accidental eavesdroppers that they were, and perhaps that was why she had requested an evening walk through the gardens with Luvena in the first place.
Ruby-red eyes focused upon the smaller woman at her side, and her gaze burned. The Queen of Denocte straightened, shifted, rolled her shoulders, and stepped closer, pressing her muzzle against Luvena’s own yet not tearing her eyes away from those teal, endless depths.
“Rule with me, Luvena. Denocte needs you, but I need you more.”
Posted by: Jaspar - 09-25-2021, 08:28 PM - Forum: Amare Creek
- No Replies
Jaspar
Find me where the wild things are.
He could say many things drove him away from everything he once held dear. Grief, guilt, fury - all of them correct in their own way, if one knew the tale. Yet, for the wayward pegasus, he could not discount the unfortunately timed opportunity the plague had given him despite the carnage it had left behind.
A new beginning. A fresh start. The chance to forge his own destiny without the stain of misfortunate already burned upon him, nor the whispers of others to hold him back. Was he distressed to flee his ancestral home? Absolutely, if not almost cripplingly so. Those lands had been his family's and safeguarded from greed for so many generations. Jaspar was not shy to admit he would not miss the luxuries he was forced to leave behind in his haste. After all, he had been raised with a silver spoon in his mouth, so to speak. Yet, the winged stallion found himself not terribly wanting for said luxuries as the days spent fleeing his inevitable demise stretched into weeks.
If he was honest with himself, Jaspar rather enjoyed truly living on his own. He was fine playing the part of an exiled aristocrat and avoiding all the unpleasantries that came with the lordly title he had unluckily inherited. Jaspar took to making the forests along his travels his home for a time, though he never lingered. The longer he lingered within the woods and tinkered with his magic, the more chances he gave for someone to discover him. So it was best to be on one's way far away from anything familiar. Despite his urgency to put as much distance between himself and his survivor's guilt, Jaspar drew up short on an explanation as to how on earth he had managed to land himself here.
He had taken dozens of crisscrossing paths in the sky and was likely disoriented. That would have made the most sense if he was rationally thinking. Deep down, Jaspar was subconsciously aware that something had swayed him to land in whatever realm this was, yet he was quite content to rest before he fled again. The gentle garbling of the creek some distance away carried on the wind, calling to the pegasus like a siren. Surrounding him was a smattering of lush green trees with promises of shelter and shade. With a startled blink, the stallion realized that the creek bed he walked along seemed rather devoid of life, save for the few birds singing in the distance, which was rather...odd. Yet none of it explained how he had no recollection of landing and walking into the rather idyllic place in the first place. The pegasus paused in his travels, drawing his slate-colored wings closer to his sides. Perhaps, if he was lucky, he was not the only one lost in their thoughts.
