Four weeks. It had been four weeks since he’d left home, twenty-eight days of travel by foot, and he was now six hundred and seventy-eight hours into what was to be the most important journey of his life. Thus, it was regrettable that it had also been four weeks since Jericho had last properly bathed.
And the journey had not been kind to him. He had scaled a mountain range, wandered through dense woods, weathered late summer thunderstorms and waded through the resulting mud. His coat was matted with sweat and his hair tangled, barely contained by the topknots that had been so deftly twisted into his mane a mere twenty-eight days prior. Only the silver ornaments winking from his horns and tail remained bright—those, and his pair of shining eyes as they took in the distant spires.
At last, civilization. As soon as he had spotted the fortress from the vast meadow through which he walked, Jericho’s entire demeanor had changed. Days of hard travel were temporarily forgotten and sore joints temporarily silenced. He had walked with a new spring in his step—that is, until he had encountered his reflection in a puddle in a marshy patch of the field. Trained soldier as he was, he could not suppress a snort of horror at the bedraggled creature that stared up at him. Jericho considered the unkempt mane and shaggy coat, grimaced, then glanced up ruefully at the faraway towers. This was no way for a bridegroom to make his first impression; they would have to wait.
Hurrying now, the stallion turned and began to make his way back to the river he had forged that morning. Luckily, he soon discovered that the water had been flowing parallel to his path the entire time and was spared the agonizing ordeal of retracing his steps. Jericho picked his way along the bank until he found a place suitable for bathing, then waded in without hesitation, ignoring the sudden chill. Paddling his way to the shallows, he attempted a clumsy roll in the smooth gravel of the riverbed, hoping to remove the more stubborn patches of dirt. Though awkward, it afforded him moderate success: a few repetitions, and he was soon satisfied. That left only his hair.
Peering down at his dripping reflection, Jericho judged this particular battle to be a losing one. Without comb or razor, there was not much to be done. Reluctantly, he pulled his mane free from the soggy topknots (or rather, what remained of them) and smoothed it down as best he could. He’d track down a comb or a barber once he was inside the gates.
Appearance much improved, he set off again. Now taking care to avoid muddy patches, his progress was significantly slowed, but the sight of the castle on the horizon lent him patience. It was less than half a day’s journey, and he’d be there soon enough.
It was nearly nightfall when he reached the wall. Up close, it was massive: ivy-covered towers loomed above him like giants, and he shivered slightly in the cool shadow of the fortress. For the first time since that afternoon, Jericho hesitated slightly. The entrance was just ahead of him, beckoning…but was he welcome?
QUINN - son of Entia and Naveen
And life was like a comet falling from the sky
Rumour had been heard during his wandering. He decided right then he wanted to see it for himself, and so he had crossed the earth and found himself venturing to the Summit of the peak, and way too curious about what was happening. With barely an understanding of the mechanics of this world he was in, Quinn wondered if coming here was a bad idea.
Damn the idea, he thought, and he went anyway. So that is how he wound up here, looking at the trees that appeared to be somewhat out of place here, and were not natural like the others that had grown on the slopes of the mountain. There was an entrance way too, but Quinn found it was impassable.
So he stood by the edge of the trees and looked up at them, drawing his green eyes over every little detail and finding himself even more curious and confused than he had been before he had come here.
Perhaps it was not as good an idea as he had thought it was, he thought to himself. No, where was the fun in ignoring the desire to learn and see just what it had been those two had been gossiping over? Boring, he knew, and so it was here he was, staring at a tree like it might get up and start dancing or something.
Wishful thinking.
Though that would be a sight, he thinks with a grin.
Eulalie had, of course, insisted on accompanying Somnus and the rest of the regime to the summit. She would never have been content with staying behind, not knowing, wondering. Besides, she was more than curious about this new place Tempus had shaped simply for this meeting. It reminded her of the story Somnus had told her what seemed like weeks ago now, in a firefly filled meadow.
She stood faithfully at his side, looking at the open doors that beckoned him and all the other sovereigns and regimes of the courts forward. He turned to place a kiss upon her cheek and she smiled, for him alone. Her earth brown eyes followed him as he turned and made his way into the clearing, and they lingered for a moment even after the golden man was gone from her sight.
They were here for a reason, of course. A meeting called by Tempus was nothing to sniff at. Eulalie, however, had another reason for the knots in her stomach, the concern in her eyes. She turned her head to seek out someone very dear to her: Ulric. She knew he had been part of the small group that had come from Delumine. It took only a few seconds to find him among the gathered, and she made her way toward him with what felt like a confession on her tongue.
"Ulric." She spoke gently to pull his attention toward her, without attracting anyone else's, she hoped. The golden haired woman's gaze flitted over his for a second, suddenly fearing what would come of her revelation. What would he think? She steeled herself quickly, no backing out now. She needed to tell someone or she was going to drive herself mad with worry. "I'm expecting."
Xeria stood quietly in the midst of the vast field, enjoying the openness. The freedom. She was new to these lands and had been delighted to find such a space. The sky stretched above her, empty of clouds as dusk took hold. Autumn was in the air, but the day had boasted clear skies, the earth soaking up the sun's warmth before winter rolled into town and life scurried for cover. The prairie grass was brown and straw-like and while most of the flowers had wilted, a few red dots were still scattered about.
She lifted her nose to the sky, taking in the dying scents of summer as the temperature cooled and a soft breeze played in her mane and choppy little tail. She stood still as she watched the stars begin to show in the deep turquoise sky that blended from tan to brown as it near the horizon, a perfect match to the colors of her own coat. Her own golden stars twinkled across her coat in the form of small golden dots. She matched the sky and she never felt more at ease as she did standing here when she felt as though she could just melt away into the colors of dusk.
As the light of the day faded, the hole in her head where her right eye should have been became a black pit, like an embodiment of what she felt in her heart, the feelings she ran from by detaching herself. But they liked to try to claw their way out, in moments like this where she was left in wonder of the world she lived in. So she gave herself a small shake and awkwardly turned herself, her hind legs stiff as she began to limp back the way she came as the sun tucked itself away and the moon began to glow in an ever-darkening night sky.
Eulalie made her way with purpose through the streets, toward the citadel. She had many memories of being inside these walls. The library, the day she had helped Somnus to cite their experience with the Rapax dolphins. The keep, where Alba had found her and drawn her out to the same man's aid. The ivory and sunshine woman though of that night fondly, a soft smile on her face, but it was not quite right. There was a certain worry to her eyes, a crease in her brow. Perhaps, she thought, after this day she would make more memories here.
Perhaps, the anxiety in her whispered, she would not.
She had already voiced the news out loud, to one. One she knew she could trust, when she had been keeping it to herself since she found out. Ulric's response had eased her fears somewhat, and yet she had hesitated to go to Somnus with it. Eulalie had wanted to wait for the meeting called by Tempus to pass first. She had not wanted to put more stress on Somnus' shoulders, but a short time had gone by and she knew she couldn't procrastinate any longer. Soon, it would be easy to see the changes and she wouldn't be able to hide it.
The golden warrior stopped outside the large doors that would take her inside, readying herself with a slow breath. When she pushed through, she called out to the first person she saw wandering the halls, "Where is Somnus?" Her earth brown eyes searched their face for some indication of whether they knew, and if she knew the golden, green eyed man, he would be here somewhere, hard at work. Still, she could see the woman did not know, even as she said, "I must speak with him, it is important."
A good read was always something enjoyable, and as old as he was, as much as he had seen come and go, there was always something to learn when it came to new lands and places, though... the Dusk Court was hardly considered new to him. He'd been here a little while, though the books gave him information that he had not been able to see, having been in other lands.
The sage was seated in the library, his nose in a book, mulling over the words and slowly turning the pages every so often, and he blinked a few times as he heard hooves. Ears twitching, the cosmic entity lifted his head, horns glimmering and seeming to shift with colors in the light of the many candles around him. "Oh, Florentine," came his rumble of a voice. Immediately, Relic was smiling, moving to set the book aside, sitting up and carefully mulling about for his tea.
"Care to join me?" He asked. It was late, so he hadn't a clue why the Sovereign was in the library at such an hour, but he more than welcomed her of course, curious. He wouldn't poke or prod in to why she was there, simply bask in her company. "I know it's not the best sort of set up, but I thought it was nice for light reading."
As he spoke, he poured out tea, carefully setting the cups down with the honed telekinetic ability. A smile flickered over his lips, and the sharpened teeth poked through just a little before his lips were covering them once more.
You asked about the day Taisce arrived in Novus. Well, I cannot tell you of that day, for he has always been here. What I will tell you though, is of the day he returned to Solterra and to do that, I must begin at the start.
Taisce, you see was born a boy, like any other. He was born in sand that did not know the touch of water. In the midst of the dust and heat of the desert he was pushed into the world and, no sooner there, he was plucked from his mother’s side.
The child, born in the colours of a sea he had never known, was stolen away to become a part of a new project the once-king of Solterra had planned. As part of that masterpiece, the boy was whipped and poisoned, taken near to death and brought back again. They beat him into submission, manipulated his thoughts, his mind, his love, until all he knew of love was the name a soldier told him was his, Taisce. He was called so because that is what his mother cried as he was taken away and she lay dying, a spear in her breast.
So Taisce spent years with the child soldiers, he fought and offered his life for Solterra over and over. He was a snake in the sands of Solterra’s desert and he fought like one. But his skin was the colour of the sea. So they called him the Seasnake. He would hiss and bite, snarl and savage his enemies – he was as wild a soldier as the other children that made up the rest of his faction.
But one day, the day he discovered the ocean, well, that was the day it claimed what was its own. With his skin the colour of water and sand combined, maybe it was fate that decreed he was made to paint beaches red, not deserts. So the sea sent a kelpie to claim this child soldier, and it did, in a battle that raged.
Taisce drowned a boy soldier and emerged from the deep as a kelpie; the body of his maker broken at his hooves. That was the first kill he made as a kelpie, but one of many he had made as a soldier.
So it brings me to this day, the day he reclaimed his name, Taisce. The day the wild sea rolled into Solterra and from its waves he leapt upon the rugged sand. Ah, there was nothing beautiful about Solterra’s beaches, nothing significant about the place he died. His pearlescent eyes swept over it, dismissive. The broken kelpie was gone, eaten by predators and time.
With the waters roaring and hissing at their creation, Taisce washed like the tide along the beach. He leaves no footprints in the sand, for the sea chases him, helps him, swallowing any evidence that he was there.
The kelpie stops at an alcove and there tat beautiful monster of the sea began to sing. It was a song he once sang before the beatings at the hand of his commander stole his love, his fear.
At sea his brethren watch, the hair of the Comhar herd glinting a myriad of unnatural hues upon the breakers. They listened as their brother sang for the child soldiers, to remind them of the nights they sat and sang together, until each lost their voice, their soul, their bodies to Solterra’s war effort.
That haunting song poured rich as wine, and achingly beautiful. It was specter soft and designed to pull, to lure. Taisce waits, adorned in the blue of the sea, the gold of the sand – he is their marbled testament. Was Solis watching his prodigal son that day? For bright sunlight flashed along the beaten, rusting collar of his servitude. Taisce heeded it not as he watched the beach with white sea-spray eyes and his lungs drank the hot Solterran air.
That, my dear friend, was the day Taisce returned to Solterra.
QUINN - son of Entia and Naveen
And life was like a comet falling from the sky
In a new world of gods and demons, in a place he was not familiar with, the boy set out and so found the world he had been called into. The Dusk Court gleamed upon the edge of the world, and he had followed it for such a long time. There was nothing he knew but a whisper and a few words, and that was all he had going for him to draw him here.
He didn’t know anything else about this world. There was so much to learn! Quinn wondered for a moment if he’d even be able to concentrate for long enough to be able to pick it up. He doubted it; he had never enjoyed the thought of schooling and learning.
And alongside it he didn’t have any sort of… spiritual attachments. He didn’t understand religious matters nor the idea of giving one’s soul and self to a god – he questioned was a god was every time he thought of the idea, and even now.
Creeping into his mind his sister appeared once more, and Quinn hoped she was safe and he’d see her again soon. He already missed her – he hadn’t been apart from her since they had born been birthed into the world by Naveen.
In the fringes of the dominion of the Court, Quinn hesitates. He was a youngster, he was still learning about everything here. Who was he to come here when he had no idea what the hell he even wanted to do in this world? He snorted and dropped the foreleg he’d been holding up. His green eyes surveyed the world around him, clear and open.
So many scents here.
Was this even the way he was supposed to be going? If he wasn’t feeling so awkward and out of place, he’d have laughed at himself for being such an idiot.
Only when day collapsed into night did she arrive.
Whorls of blackened stone flecked with gold and starry silver rose far above her as she approaches. Twin ravens whom guarded their kingdom — the safe keepers of their Court. Closed, shut, cut off.. for better or for worse.
They had done what they thought was right.
Now, they will do so once again.
The mountains were a formidable, behemoth beast that separated friend from foe, ally and enemy, family and stranger. Calligo’s shadows deepened under their mighty walls as the darkness grew, caressing the lantern light with playful fingers. Torches flickered against the raven’s faces, their beady eyes and outstretched wings. And her breath.. for a moment, it is stolen away.
The guards hush their whispers as she comes to stand at the head of the Gates. She could only imagine how she looked in their eyes — a mistress of hailstorm and hurricanes. And her eyes.. oh her eyes, they promised a wrath akin to a god’s.
Her gaze flickers across the stones. To each face that dares meet her own, before a cool smile cracks across her copper lips.
A silent snarl that equals the storm raging far inside her.
QUINN - son of Entia and Naveen
And life was like a comet falling from the sky
Somewhere along the line, he’d lost his sister. Kinsley and he had been separated, and it concerned him. It would appear to be apparent to an observer though, as the black and red boy sauntered his way across the open landscape, drifting along the edge of the ocean. If not for the white and black of his coat, he might appear to vanish into the red tinge of the sad, lit by a setting sun and the brilliant rays of red and orange associated with such a vista. This light illuminated him in a startling fashion, and made his green eyes seem to shine brighter.
There was something of an easy, arrogant air about him. The walk in which he moved was so similar to the striding of his sire who he had long left behind. He only yearned to see his sister, but who was he to know what fate would show him?
He laughed at his own thought. His fate was his own, and he’d be the one who controlled it. He was not one who was subject to the whims of gods and demons without question – this was the manner in which his sire had taught him. He’d learned it and respected it but he did not have reason to abhor those who were of a higher power than he was.
Quinn didn’t question the thought. Instead, he stopped and looked out over the ocean with bright eyes, pondering. A new land he had come to, a new world. A new designation, and a new path to follow and see where it would lead to.
He felt affinity for the ocean though, and so he had come to stand here and so he did. The slowly rising tide was finally touching his hooves, as he sank into the sand.
![[Image: xeria_by_freckledraven-dbvt7xh.png]](https://orig00.deviantart.net/cc95/f/2017/339/c/1/xeria_by_freckledraven-dbvt7xh.png)
