This was.. strange. Being back in Novus, back in the south, in the ever popular wanderer lands and even more so Eluetheria. He had already been to Dusk, though lingering on the edges rather than stepping back in. His heart had led him after Rannveig, following her to the North once more, to her birthplace rather than his own. He had abandoned his post as Regent and gone after her, following her steps, ever faithful. It had been the only thing to do, he knew. Remaining in Novus would have likely been a disaster.
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.
Raglan had left his home to wander about some faraway islands. He had left even amidst conflict with another Court. The Crow knew that he shouldn’t be searching out the patron Goddess of stars and shadows - not for guidance, not for answers, and certainly not for absolution. Caligo has never been known to be a forgiving deity; even in the bedtime stories that had been whispered among orphans - eyes twinkling with wonder and innocence - their fierce, wild Goddess had been vengeful, merciless, bitter. Caligo had separated herself and her people from her god-siblings with literal mountains. Torn from the rest of the world with shockwaves of grief and pain so deep into her father’s earth that the very crust of the planet rebelled.
She was endless and eternal, both mortal and immortal, a combination of circumstances beyond her control - and she would not take any betrayal, whether intentional or not, lightly. He feared her just as much as he loved her.
Gods be damned, he knew better.
But that had never stopped the Silvertongue before.
...
He had been trekking for what felt like an eternity all across the mountain - on paths paved and on paths discovered - searching desperately for his Goddess. He had questions that he couldn’t put into words, a sense of agony and loss that cut deep into his heart and into his gut. He was lost, so very lost, amidst the chaos of his world, and knew of nowhere else to turn. The comforting heat of the Sentinel’s bloodstone tapped against his breast with every step, a silent reassurance that the bay wasn’t worthless, that the colossal guardian had seen something in him that was enough to break its immortal slumber.
It was that surety of self, derived from the acceptance of an Ancient, that lead the pegasus to a small copse of juvenile birch trees. The pale saplings were skinny and stunted, the occasional harsh storms of the mountain playing a part in their painfully slow growth. Slowing to a stop, Raglan passed pale eyes over the shadows between the ivory branches. The moon was full, dipping the world in silver and making shadows cast by physical forms deeper, sharper.
“Mother of Night, Benevolent Matron of Abandoned Children...” Raglan trailed off, the words choking him. Sucking in a slow breath, the Crow soldiered on, “I’ve been trying to find you, but I suppose it would be easier for you to find me. Tempus came, I can’t imagine his daughter is far behind. Would you offer me an audience? Please? I’ve known you my entire life.. And I’m lost and scared and my home is shut to me. I was hoping to spend time with someone who knows what that’s like even more than me.”
He left a statement unspoken, though he knew that if Caligo were near, she would hear them all the same.
It sat there bathed in sunlight. “Still as a statue” wasn’t meant just as a simile, of course, but actual fact. It’s harsh edges were prominent and hard, the faces smooth like steel. The shrine and pedestal upon which it sat, however, seemed rather the opposite. They were unkept, with creeping ivy beginning its slow domination of the stone. It was clear that since the obscenely devout Inkheart’s sudden departure, no one had really taken the time to maintain the sacred shrine.
There was peace on the peak, with all of nature proceeding as normal through the day. Until there was a sudden glint on the golden eyes of the statue. Anyone might have thought it just a trick of the sun, reflecting off the spherical structure. A few seconds passed, and it happened again. Then again.
And now onlookers might have doubted their eyes, their very sanity: the wild, wind-whipped mane of the Sun God began to ripple and wave in a sudden breeze. Wilder and wilder it snapped through the air, until — as quickly as it had started — it returned to its original pose and stilled.
Was it all in the imagination? A hallucination?
Nay— for there is a new presence atop Veneror’s Peak. A thrum in the air, almost tangible, audible, joins the energy of the wood and beasts. The statue is no longer JUST a status. Those nearby will feel its power deep to their core, will see the confident smile grace his golden lips as the god steps down from his pedestal.
A smooth, baritone voice whispers in the shrine.... “We have returned. Let them all witness our glory and power.” The unknown will soon be made known, and the news will travel far and wide— Solis has returned to Novus.
Solis' statue has disappeared also from his shrine in Veneror Peak! The deity has materialized into her statue's form and is now wandering about Novus as a horse, along with Caligo and Vespera.
This is a semi-open thread. The first people to reply to this thread with a minimum of 300 words within the next 24 hours will get a chance to interact with the god! You can write a reply as if they were there worshipping when he awoke, or as if they've stumbled into the thread after he steps down from the pedestal! This thread will be closed to new replies on Friday, June 22nd, at 6 PM EST.
Additionally, any open threads posted in Veneror Peak for the next week have a high chance of encountering any of the wandering gods!
As a reminder: no one was around to see Caligo disappear; and Vespera so far has only appeared to Rannveig! Oriens has yet to manifest.
Strange omens had gathered at the end of the streets. They might have been sent by Tempus or by Vespera, but either way they carried with them a supernatural chill. Feline shadows with crepuscular purple eyes, the sound of flying where there were no birds, or still-decaaying piles of ash and iridescent cracked glass. Even worse, Mari had seen her old selves walking the Court, sleekly built and short-haired and sempiternally youthful, and they were the last straw, what had turned her away from the inner city in an aggravated, cold-blood frenzy.
For the most part, she tried to think of them - her old selves - as little as she could. It didn’t do much good. Plus (and perhaps more importantly) she didn’t even really recognize them now, those small, dark girls who didn’t wear any scars, nor the mark of the Commander, which she wore every day, now, in three thick white lines over the back of her wing; they were innocent, and unafraid, and in conjunction worlds apart from where Mari stood now, psychologically speaking.
She had to shake that thought from her mind forcefully, but she managed it, as she had learned to manage everything. After years it had become easy. Pacing a long, winding track through the still-blooming fields near the edge of the cliff, Mari walks with her wings half-extended and head low to her chest. Worry crawls in her head like a wild thing. What are the regimes discussing now, so far away on the summit, and do the gods watch? Are they watching now?
Of course. It would be sacrilege to think otherwise.
When she hears the quiet approach of another Terrastellan, Marisol pauses in place and tilts her head to look, gray eyes wide and steely in the oncoming dark. By Her hand, comes the murmured greeting, and once again she falls silent.
In the peachy-purple gloaming something like unrest stirs in Terrastella, and Marisol takes it in calm stride, just as she has learned to take everything else.
With animal intensity her stony gray eyes remain fixed on the horizon, where, hundreds of miles away, she knows the Summit is in session. The craggy silhouette of Veneror is its own heartbeat in the far darkness. As much as she is loathe to admit it (to herself, much less to others), something like fear has been beating quick in her chest since the moment Dusk’s regime left: in their absence it seems that she has the whole of Terrastella’s fate balanced on her shoulders, and it makes her aware of how alone she is, how truly alone, no Ard, no Erd, no cadets trailing her.
Just her. Slim-hipped and violent, well-versed in cracking her own bones. A commander sans shield - who is she then?
Swallowed mostly by the pearlescent grass that grows weed-fast in the fields, Marisol stands with her head raised to the setting sen and wings folded to her side. She is a smoothly built silhouette against the impending dusk. Despite the calm scene around her - brief breeze, a warm sunset, the quiet song of crickets - still something inside her is wound up tightly, and still she stands militaristic, shoulders set, legs squared, ears flickering in lazy patrol for any impending strangers. Please bring them home safe, comes her silent prayer, near-childish for the intensity with which she speaks it. The want is so incredibly loud. By Her hand, let all the regimes escape unscathed, and let our Courts be better for it.
When the footsteps come, Mari’s head turns toward them only slightly. They smell of Dusk, not of danger, and her vigil has made her already too tired to look for conflict where there is none (never mind that it might be her first instinct). Cool as always - Hail Vespera, she murmurs to the stranger.
and, when the friendly sunshine smil'd,
and she would mark the opening skies,
i saw no Heaven—but in her eyes
Autumn was slowly working its way into the world. Days were still relatively warm, but evenings were cool and the leaves were beginning to shift from their vibrant greens into the fiery colors of fall. Pregnancy was… an adventure, Eulalie had decided. She doubted many woman enjoyed carrying around the extra weight, and her belly for sure had grown quite large over time, but to know that she carried around with her life... it was terrifying and humbling.
The ivory woman glanced over at Somnus, who walked faithfully by her side, and she smiled. She was tired, as was no doubt expected, but she was happy. He had been true to his word, that he would be there for her through it all, and Eulalie had quickly found her feelings for him growing deeper through every passing day.
It was a peaceful morning in the court, with soft, gilded sunlight filtering down through the streets and a gentle, whispering breeze brushing over her skin. She had wanted some fresh air, wanted the chance to just enjoy a moment with the man who had, quite honestly, stolen her heart. They walked slowly, taking their time and setting a leisurely pace. Time, however, had a different plan.
The first contraction was a shock, unexpected, but not entirely awful. She breathed past it, pushing it away, but when it came back stronger a second time it was like a bolt shooting through her body—such that she stopped walking suddenly. “Somnus…” Eulalie looked toward him, brown eyes searching, “Somnus, I think,” another contraction, sharp and acute, “the baby.” When he came to her, she reached out for him, wanting him at her side. Things seemed to happen quickly after that, or perhaps a lot of it had been blurred out by the sheer agony.
Her leaning against Somnus as each contraction passed, the warmth of his body helping her to relax. Him calling out for a caretaker, the sound of his voice enveloping her. As the labor progressed, draining her energy, Eulalie laid down in the courtyard. Her sides rose and fell quickly and and fine sheen formed over her coat as the contractions grew closer together, stronger. It was a pain that even her years in slavery could not prepare her for, and each breath gasped past her lips.
She pushed, and she ground her teeth together against the cries that wanted to escape her, and her coat grew dark with sweat. Even when the foal slipped free and came to rest on the ground and Eulalie thought that it was done, it did not end. The contractions continued, the pain never dampening, and for a moment she wondered if something was horribly, horribly wrong.
At last, and with a final push, there came another foal. When Eulalie could finally catch her breath she looked over the two small creatures laying there with her and she could not believe it. “Twins,” her chest expanded, shuddering, and she could not help the tears that rolled down her cheeks, though these did not come at the cost of pain. No, they paired with a smile, “Oh, Somnus,” she cried gently, standing, legs shaking, reaching out for him again, pressing her muzzle to his.
Then, she stepped toward her children and gently brushed her nose over them, making sure they were alright. Children, there were two. She was a mother, not only of one beautiful life but of two. “A boy, and a girl,” she said, her tired brown eyes meeting Somnus’ verdant green, as she carefully nudged them, encouraging them to their long, gangly legs. They looked complete opposites, the boy darker than his sister, and smaller, where she was golden ivory and considerably bigger. Both sported a nub of a horn in the middle of their foreheads and soft, downy feathered wings.
Though she worried for her son’s size, she could not help but be overwhelmed with joy. No matter what, whatever obstacles they may face, she knew they would do it together. She had a family now… a well and true family, like she once would never have believed was possible. Oh, how so much had changed and would never be the same. There was a great big world opening up in front of her, in front of all of them, and she would never go back again.
All my loves <3 @Somnus @Regis @Anemone Welcome to all if you'd like to respond, but please allow the family to post first!
Whispers of a land notorious for violence had reached a minx stained in the ashes of fury. The fields that expanded before her looked pathetic. They were devoid of the life they should have been supporting, or rather the life they could support. Patches of dirt littered the landscape, tearing into what was left of the tall grasses. A smattering of wildflowers decorated the ground, but they too looked just as sad as the rest of the steppe. Upon the ground were various equines at varying states of health. This steppe was rife with the tales of violence she desired to be a part of. Effy had often believed that she wrote the books of war, and she had often told this to others. She passed herself off as a goddess that lost her throne. Usurped by the very sister she hated so much. Effy snarled to herself as she shifted through this place, ignoring those that lie upon the ground begging for aid to any who would listen. One beast had the audacity to nip one of her ankles to get her attention. "You beg for assistance from the embodiment of violence. Beg for aid from one who is selfless, because I will consume you if you dare beg me again." Effy's voice dripped with malice. Her words were nothing but genuine, though she was surprised that she even bothered showing mercy. Efphion didn't take any amusement in abusing those who could not even defend themselves.
She wanted them to at least put up a fight. Effy moved on from the poor sap sprawled upon the ground. Someone had really done a number on him, and she didn't even have the patience to admire their work. Efphion's annoyance had grown just from that small interaction. It was almost nothing, and she was sure it was something she'd forget within hours. If she did not forget in hours, the days would come and purge the memory. Time had a way of purging and erasing so many things. Effy felt there were few things she respected as much as Time and her beloved Sun. Effy didn't see anyone that sparked an interest, and so her disappointment grew. This was not the fields of violence she had been promised by the rumors, though perhaps that was her own fault for chasing the possibility of lies.
"Speech"
Notes: Rating M just for uncertainty of how this will go xD She's also just wander. Sorry for the awful post. I'm struggling with starters
Tags: @Cyrene
Words: 393
The landscape swept from dunes to a wavering image that threatened any onlookers with the possibility of the solace being a lie. Even the world lied, so it was only natural for those that roamed the surface to follow suit. A maiden dripped in the colours of ash stood atop a dune of sand, she peered skeptically at the wavering image before her. It was a lie the ash maiden was familiar with. Effy's eyes narrowed a bit more in an attempt to cease the distortion of her view due to the heat. She decided to move toward it, her gait was effortless upon the collapsing dunes. They gave beneath her weight, but her daggers did not falter even a single step as she descended. Reth had been made of great landscapes that ranged from pouring dunes to vibrant emerald forests. It was no surprise that she thrived in the barren depths of sand, she was built for it. She was built from the ashes of their enemies, and fury of the sun. Effy pressed on with obvious determination, her legs did not cease moving until they struck the stone that surrounded the oasis. "Just as I thought. Even the sands beyond the kingdom of the sun cannot fool me." Effy snarled into the empty, dry air around her.
Effy eyed the steps it would take to get into the oasis. A slow smile crept across her features, she contemplated her sudden caution. The leap down there couldn't be too far down. She eyed the potential way down along the stone surfaces that surrounded the oasis. Effy surged forward suddenly, the heat of her jewelry becoming abruptly more prominent against her frame. She descended the stones as though they were steps, nearly losing her balance a few times. Effy's laughter sliced through the air, the sound met no resistance and bounced from the fortress around the oasis. Her hair soared towards the sky as she took the final leap toward the floor of the desert's solace. The earth collided with her daggers, the sensation jarred through her bones. The vibration stirred an excitement within the ashen maiden. Her lungs flooded with the arid oxygen, it rushed down her throat like the river bursting from a broken dam. The proud palms danced in the hot breezes of the Solterran wilds. Effy's movements were just as fluid as she practically danced toward the water gently shifting in the makeshift pool. Effy charged forward suddenly and leaped into the pool once she reached the edge.
Her whole journey here had been incredibly reckless. Even her descent into this place had been dangerous, she could have broken her leg. Effy was fearless, danger thrilled her. Violence intoxicated her nearly as much as the rush of doing something dangerous. The ash painted maiden's head broke the surface of the water. The water was cooler than the surrounding air, but it was by no means cold. Effy's body had landed near the middle of the pool. She began to swim toward the edge of the pool, on the opposite side from where she had first entered. As she stepped from the vibrant blue pool her hair clung to her, and the hot air greeted her as an old friend. It felt comfortable now that she had gone for a quick swim. Effy glanced back at the water she had disturbed, she could see herself here many days.
"Speech"
Notes: Here you are <3 Sorry for the wait rrow
Tags: @Israfel
Words: 571
A desert like plain opens out before you, golden hues shimmer uniformly in the gentle breeze as you happen upon the grazing herd of bison. You ponder for a while, gazing; but not really seeing, as they just seem so carefree. Making you wish you too good feel the same. You focus on one as it moves a step closer, it's dark colour and huge size standing out from the long fimble, fauna. Their darkened coat catches the small gusts, noticing that parts of their fur is still growing through. The colder weather perhaps making them grow a winter jacket. Scents of hay and a must tickle upon your nostrils, If you focused your mind you'd probably catch that tiny hint of pine and perhaps cedar if you are sharp enough.
This is when you notice the forest of conifers lining the horizon, giving a break in the vast golden, sandy hues that the grasses give. But what strikes you most is the huge alpine tundra towering high above all, It stood proudly in shades of grey, gloriously crowned in white. The purest of all.
Going back to the herd of bison; whom where slowly moving west. Which was what caught your attention again, you notice something within the grass. Too low to get a clear view of this heap you move closer, careful of the bison as to not cause a sudden scare among them. Their young where still growing, the herd would be over protective. You even notice that they seem to keep the young within a circle that they so naturally make and even keep upon movement, always making sure the young were safe. But your focus goes back to the unknown, it peaks your curiosity. Something had been laid within that same herd, meaning that it could not be a predator, it was something they deemed un-harmful. Watching with utmost concentration, you focus deeply upon this shape, waiting for the wind to blow it back into view again.
You gasp as you get a slight view, as gasp of excitement perhaps? It appears to be a lighter brown in colour, a shade or two between the foliage and those bison. Something sparkles as the sun catches this heap. It edges look to soft to be a rock, it was not the right shape to be a fallen tree, nor could it have been a Bison. Was it alive? was it breathing if it was? Maybe injured. Maybe you should take a closer look.
Amun lays in an awkward heap on the ground, he is fast asleep. exhausted from traveling for such a long time, his legs have given up.
”Speech Speech.”
We kept running, running through the night
Chasing the sun 'til anything felt right
Isra feels like a ghost as she wanders, a miasma made of storms and dusk and stardust. A season has flown by her in this solitude. Only the wild things keep her company now and know that she is even still a horse that lives. Even she isn't sure sometimes, if this body of hers is made of flesh and bone instead of sea-foam and mist.
What do the others see when they look upon her? Do they see only a strange mare, dreaded with thistles and leaves with fear aglow in those ocean eyes? Can they even see anything more than a shadow, fleeting and thin and waiting only for the salvation of death?
Long have her legs forgotten what direction she travels in, what demons she flees from still. All she remembers is the sting of her flesh where it was singed and the hiss of fire as it cooed an eulogy to her. Fear is all she remembers, enough of it to walk cautiously up the mountain side.
The last mountain burned around her, swallowing up not only her hope but all the wildlife that kept her company as she healed from her past. Isra remember that as well as she remembers the lash and the blood that flowed like wine, thick and deep enough to swallow up her screams.
On she goes, quiet and cautious as if all the shadows loom wide and gaping only existing to devour her whole. Only her soft nickers to the deer and mountain goats breaks up the monotony of her hoof-steps. Here and there bird-song breaks the melody of four-legged beasts. She tilts her head at the birds, smiling as she imagines what stories live in the freedom of their wings.
It's a flickering smile as the world starts to tremble and break. All the trees creak and groan a death knell and Isra freezes like a lamb before a pack of wolves.
She's quick to look upward to see if a dragon shadow looms over head. Her ears flicker, waiting for dragon song to devour bird-song, hate to devour hope and beauty.
It never comes and the mountain stills in no more than few breaths. It's enough to make her freeze, one leg lifted like a deer who has not yet decided to flee or stay and graze just a little longer. Only the chain on her raised leg makes any sound at all.
Her fear trills out in chain-song, as fine and delicate as the trembling of her bones. Beneath her ribs that fragile heart of her races like whitewater but the sound of that is muted by the thickness of all that dust and rot on her bay coat.
Isra closes her eyes and prays, even though she's not sure what gods might even be left to pity a broken girl who wanted once only to drown. Still she prays and prays and offers a million stories to any god left to listen to the delicate things that have yet to die in a world full of sinners and monsters.
