Asterion doesn’t know how she does it – how she can attend a festival with the memory of the last one a shadow on her heart, yet still wear a smile. A true one, the kind that reaches her eyes (though he has rarely seen any other on his sister, his queen).
She is a marvelous thing, he thinks, though as he follows her his dark mouth quirks. If only he had not agreed to her terms for attending.
The bay does not share her enthusiasm. They stand now just within the grounds, near a booth buried in strands of flowers, the scent of them overwhelming even what Florentine already wears. Somewhere, he knows, is Moira, and Cyrene, and Raymond and Calliope – and it is enough. It is more than that.
“Alright, he says, giving in to her gaze on him. Though his tone is serious, though he gives a little long-suffering sigh, there is a hint of a smile in his dark eyes when they meet hers. “You can pick one thing for me to do with you.” He flicks an ear, glancing around at the flurry of activity around them – face painting, apple bobbing, a thousand things besides. His stomach flutters with nerves, with guilt, with worry.
He still finds Novus such a strange world.
“What will it be?” he asks, looking back at her, and the resignation in his voice is belied by the smile he wears.
The first records of our young world were those of tears and blood;
its last records will be those of tears and blood also.
When the gods spoke, the witch doctor listened.
It came as an ominous drop in the stomach, the whisper of a primal fear understood but rarely felt, and she in her swampy grotto read the portents with anxious fascination. Birds on the wing flew southwest as one; even the beasts that inhabited Tinea's marshes and peat bogs fell silent. The world itself drew in a tremulous breath. The sun lingered long overhead, a scorching eye of divine judgment.
The tension broke loose with a sundering of the world. The weight in her gut bloomed into an unearthly rumbling that shook far greater things than the moorings of her nerves. Swamp waters shivered their affright as silversides flashed like shiny bullets out of the shallows and serpents, rats, and worms alike fled their earthy abodes in a sprawling, writhing mass. The witch doctor hobbled out to her clearing and peered northeast as the quake rolled on like an endless peal of distant thunder. She saw nothing, but understood all the same.
The gods were restless and wrathful; their rage smote the mighty Veneror Peak as a reminder of their great and terrible power.
This was doubtless a problem for the heathens beyond the swamp, with their scheming and their meddling. The Ilati were above such petty trifles, and surely Vespera would not smite her chosen children on the day the Elder went to pay his respects. She turned back toward her hovel, the vertebrae woven into her mane rattling against one another, and paused as a pall of realization swept over her mind.
Turhan.
---
Seldom had a horse with 3 good legs and a questionable pair of lungs made such short work of the distance between Tinea Swamp and the vaunted Veneror Peak. Nothing could be done to romanticize the journey: the witch doctor maintained a pace that, while inexhaustible, looked to the outside observer to be about as smooth as the earthquake that had motivated her hence.
Nevertheless, sweat slicked her shaggy coat with salty foam by the time she arrived, and little cuts had opened up along her lips and cheeks where the serrated teeth protruding from her skull-mask had jarred against flesh while running, dampening her face with thin smears of blood..
The thunder she'd felt in the swamp had not prepared her for what she found upon arrival. Great swaths of land had been pushed aside and reordered at the gods' selfish whim, and great furrows had been thrown up along the slopes of the great peak like tilled earth in a colossus' garden. Lush greenery even sprouted from the furrows with an unnatural sort of fecundity, greedily rooted into the sacred soils
Breathing deeply of the thick wrongness on the air through her mask's slitted nostrils, she tracked her Elder's overpoweringly familiar scent through the wreckage until she glimpsed a tangled, hairy carpet peeping out from a loosely-stacked pile of rubble.
"Kenkéknem!" she barked between shallow, exhausted breaths, telekinetically flinging the smaller stones away even as she shuffled awkwardly to the old stallion's aid. "You no die now, old man." Grunting against her own fatigue and the weight of the stones entrapping him, the shaggy mare bent to with a will, time passing only by the mantra breathed from bloody and tooth-caged lips.
"Vespela, safe you keep um...safe you keep you chile..."
The Witch Doctor there are no grotesques in nature
It had been months since Ellora crawled out of the dense thicket she'd constructed into her home. While the brambles left much to be desired, it was the safest and most hidden place she could find within the Dusk Court. She very rarely ventured out except to grab more supplies for herself, gathering herbs and spices and stocking food. She rather enjoyed being out under the cover of night, where she felt she was less likely to attract attention, the evening like a blanket upon her heart and a veil over her eyes. But even in the far reaches of the Dusk Court, she heard whispers from commonfolk about a sort of festival happening at the Dawn Court. She had never been to a festival, in fact, she'd never really been to any sort of social gathering at all, and the idea frightened her, but she'd been here for over a year and had yet to meet a single soul except in passing. She did not want to die having known only the cruelty of other horses, she wanted to know their kindness, too. If she had kindness, so could others... right?
Naturally, she would have walked to such an event, but she found herself idling over it in the sky first. She could hear the laughter and singing ring out far below her, and the music was a comfort to her, she had always loved music. One tune in particular called out to her in the dense forest, and she found her wings carrying her gently to the ground as she paused quietly in the woods, hearing her mother's song on the wind.
”Come white moss, weave us a carpet
Spreading oak make a shade where we lie. Leaves and branches, whisper a love song, When I look in my true love's eyes. Young as any spring, his eyes almost sing to me.”
She felt a tear slipping out of each of her deep blue eyes, and she slammed them shut as she hummed along to the tune. It was a song her mother sang to her, of times when her father hadn’t been so cruel to her. Sabre was once a revered mare in his herd, she had been his favorite until she’d given birth to the imperfect Ellora. But even with her song, her mother had never made her feel like a burden, she felt like her mother was truly happy spending the last of her years with the growing foal instead of with her past lover.
“Come down sparrow, sing me good morning.
Rise up sun like arch of the sky. Living river, turn light to diamonds When I look in my true love's eyes.”
As the song wrapped up, she slowly turned her back on the light and festivities, wondering if perhaps she hadn’t actually been ready for such an event. Maybe she should just go home and paint some more, or perhaps make herself a new string of beads. She looked back at her tail, the sparkling diamond and gold bead string dangling off to the side in disarray. She huffed and gave a good flick of her tail to set it back into the place before poking her head through the trees again, gazing longingly at the dancing and celebrations happening. She wanted to be out there so badly, but she was too afraid of change. She hummed the song to herself as she skirted the outer reaches of the party, pardoning herself as she passed other wanderers who were doing the same. She was aching to just take flight and return home to the Dusk Court, but the music called to her and she felt drawn back to the edge of the clearing again.
Acton had lost track of what day of the festival it was; all he knew was it was late, and dark, and he was well on his way to being drunk.
This place, this event, was pretty enough, but he couldn’t stop wondering what was going on in Denocte. There was no darker underbelly, here – or if there was he hadn’t yet found it. There were times when he might have been satisfied with clean fun, content to perform and watch others do the same – but oh, not when the sun set. Not when the buzz set in. Not when each whiff of woodsmoke still made him think of that disastrous meeting where Reichenbach all but threw down his crown for the will of his regime.
So you see, it was for the best he distracted himself with laughter and liquor.
There had been a storm, earlier in the day, and the grass was still silver-wet beneath the moonlight. But all the stars were out, and the lanterns cast a cheery glow on the pathways. Music floated from the main stage, but it wasn’t enough for Acton – he craved something thicker, lower, grittier. He wanted shadows patterning his skin, wanted the glitter of shattered glass instead of wet grass. He wanted to go home.
Or he wanted to get drunk enough to forget what he wanted altogether.
He was winding his way back to the liquor booth he’d been frequenting when the scent of lavendar caught him. It was not altogether strange – not with the pathways lined with flowers, pungent from the recent rain. But this smell caught him with a memory, and he stopped in the middle of the path (to the protest of a few around him, who received the kind of look that sent them on their way with no comment). It only took a second to spot her, silver and rose and dapples like smoke.
Acton didn’t have to think before moving toward her, and that was a relief in itself. He wasn’t yet to stumbling (though he remembered getting to that point with her, before, and wouldn’t mind it again), but he did lean just a little precariously toward her. He was wearing his first grin of the evening, and his voice was a little louder than their proximity called for. “Nameless girl! Did you ever finish your fairytale?”
It’s early morning when the raven arrives, alighting on a light post in the center of the courtyard. For several minutes the bird sits and watches, preening his dark feathers and observing the comings and goings of the Court.
Until he spies the Sovereign.
He puffs up his feathers, dark eyes gleaming with excitement in the early morning light. He wastes no time in leaving his post and flying into the path of the Sovereign, a flash of feathers and shadows.
His feathers are darker than the shadows entwined about the Sovereign's frame, darker than the starless night Caligo watches over so tenderly. He stops before the bay gypsy man, and waits: Reichenbach has no choice but to wait for the bird to move, or to make his way around him. Something in the bird's intelligent eyes imply he should stop and listen.
After a moment of staring him down, ensuring he has captured Reichenbach's attention, the raven speaks.
Not with the voice of a raven--but one of a God, spoken in the common tongue. And it sounds not like one voice, but several, perhaps even hundreds: young and old, a different version of the same voice for every age, speaking in unison across the yard and throughout the entirety of the Court:
“You will come.”
The parchment tied to his ankle comes undone by its own accord, invisible hands pulling its ends apart. It unfurls in mid air, hovering just before the Sovereign so that he and any others might read what is written within:
Now that I have your attention,
Your presence is required a week from today. I have cleared a section of Veneror Peak for us to meet.
Bring with you two others whom you trust. Do not think you can hide from me.
Go in peace.
There is no signature, no hint as to who wrote the letter... but something tells you this can only be the work of the deities.
Welcome to Novus’ first Summit! Your Sovereign is required to participate in this SWP. This will be a political meeting for the four Courts to come together on neutral grounds and discuss relations.
It is highly encouraged for the Sovereign to attend: be aware, Tempus will not respond kindly if Reichenbach is absent. It is expected for all members of the Regime to attend the meeting (@Reichenbach @Aislinn @Isorath) however, if one of more Regime members cannot attend, it is up to @Reichenbach to choose who to send to the meeting in their stead. Choose wisely!
Everyone else is allowed to post in this board and explore the area! Please be aware: the meeting area itself is currently sealed, and only the Regime and their chosen representatives will be allowed in! That being said, feel free to post threads wondering what the heck is going on! ;D
As for this thread: @Reichenbach has priority in replying. After he has, any other Court members are welcome to voice their thoughts!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The meeting will start on June 1st and will last until June 14th. A new thread will be started giving more instructions for the Sovereigns at that time.
It’s early morning when the goose arrives, alighting in the center of the courtyard. For several minutes the bird sits and watches, observing the comings and goings of the Court, sticking out like a sore thumb in a sea of equines.
Until she spies the Sovereign.
She puffs up her feathers, dark eyes gleaming with anticipation in the early morning light. Her moment was now: her attention was on Florentine alone, her gaze zeroing in upon the flowery mare.
She is a common goose, her feathers bright and her eyes brighter, beak dipped in black. Her visage alone is not what captures attention: it's the way she watches the Sovereign, her confidence that she is more than an ordinary bird. She walks directly into Florentine's path and stops there, unmoving, giving the Sovereign a choice: change her path, or wait for the bird to have her say.
After a moment of staring her down, ensuring she has captured Florentine's attention, the goose speaks.
Not with the voice of a goose--but one of a God, spoken in the common tongue. And it sounds not like one voice, but several, perhaps even hundreds: young and old, a different version of the same voice for every age, speaking in unison across the yard and throughout the entirety of the Court:
“You will come.”
The parchment tied to her ankle comes undone by its own accord, invisible hands pulling its ends apart. It unfurls in mid air, hovering just before the Sovereign so that she and any others might read what is written within:
Now that I have your attention,
Your presence is required a week from today. I have cleared a section of Veneror Peak for us to meet.
Bring with you two others whom you trust. Do not think you can hide from me.
Go in peace.
There is no signature, no hint as to who wrote the letter... but something tells you this can only be the work of the deities.
Welcome to Novus’ first Summit! Your Sovereign is required to participate in this SWP. This will be a political meeting for the four Courts to come together on neutral grounds and discuss relations.
It is highly encouraged for the Sovereign to attend: be aware, Tempus will not respond kindly if Florentine is absent. It is expected for all members of the Regime to attend the meeting (@Florentine @asterion @cyrene) however, if one of more Regime members cannot attend, it is up to @Florentine to choose who to send to the meeting in their stead. Choose wisely!
Everyone else is allowed to post in this board and explore the area! Please be aware: the meeting area itself is currently sealed, and only the Regime and their chosen representatives will be allowed in! That being said, feel free to post threads wondering what the heck is going on! ;D
As for this thread: @Florentine has priority in replying. After she has, any other Court members are welcome to voice their thoughts!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The meeting will start on June 1st and will last until June 14th. A new thread will be started giving more instructions for the Sovereigns at that time.
It’s early morning when the falcon arrives, alighting on a light post in the center of the courtyard. For several minutes the falcon sits and watches, observing the comings and goings of the Court.
Until she spies the Sovereign.
She puffs up her feathers, golden eyes gleaming in the early morning light. This was the person she’d been waiting for: her attention was on Seraphina alone now, her gaze zeroing in upon the silver mare.
She is larger and brighter than any common falcon; her brilliance rivals the deserts of Solterra. She flutters now from her perch to one closer to the Day Court’s Sovereign, her watchful gaze never leaving the warrior's pale blue eyes. She places herself directly in Seraphina’s path forcing her to choose: wait and listen, or move around the large avian.
After a moment of staring her down, ensuring she'll choose to stop, the falcon speaks.
Not with the voice of a falcon--but one of a God, spoken in the common tongue. And it sounds not like one voice, but several, perhaps even hundreds: young and old, a different version of the same voice for every age, speaking in unison across the yard and throughout the entirety of the Court:
“You will come.”
The parchment tied to her ankle comes undone by its own accord, invisible hands pulling its ends apart. It unfurls in mid air, hovering just before the Sovereign so that she and any others might read what is written within:
Now that I have your attention,
Your presence is required a week from today. I have cleared a section of Veneror Peak for us to meet.
Bring with you two others whom you trust. Do not think you can hide from me.
Go in peace.
There is no signature, no hint as to who wrote the letter... but something tells you this can only be the work of the deities.
Welcome to Novus’ first Summit! Your Sovereign is required to participate in this SWP. This will be a political meeting for the four Courts to come together on neutral grounds and discuss relations.
It is highly encouraged for the Sovereign to attend: be aware, Tempus will not respond kindly if Seraphina is absent. It is expected for all members of the Regime to attend the meeting (@Seraphina @Eik) however, if one of more Regime members cannot attend, it is up to @Seraphina to choose who to send to the meeting in their stead. Choose wisely!
Everyone else is allowed to post in this board and explore the area! Please be aware: the meeting area itself is currently sealed, and only the Regime and their chosen representatives will be allowed in! That being said, feel free to post threads wondering what the heck is going on! ;D
As for this thread: @Seraphina has priority in replying. After she has, any other Court members are welcome to voice their thoughts!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The meeting will start on June 1st and will last until June 14th. A new thread will be started giving more instructions for the Sovereigns at that time.
It’s early morning when the owl arrives, alighting on a light post in the center of the courtyard. For several minutes the owl sits and watches, observing the comings and goings of the Court.
Until he spies the Sovereign.
He puffs up his feathers, yellow eyes gleaming in the early morning light. This was the time he’d been waiting for: his attention was on Somnus alone now, the rest of the people slipping away.
The smaller owl upon Somnus’ back is nothing in comparison to the one Tempus has sent, larger and brighter than any common owl. He flutters now from his perch to one closer to the Dawn Court’s Sovereign, sizing him and alba up with his watchful gaze. He places himself directly in Somnus’ path, so that the Sovereign is forced to stop or to go around.
After a moment of this stare down, he speaks.
Not with the voice of an owl--but one of a God, spoken in the common tongue. And it sounds not like one voice, but several, perhaps even hundreds: young and old, a different version of the same voice for every age, speaking in unison across the yard and throughout the entirety of the Court:
“You will come.”
The parchment tied to his ankle comes undone by its own accord, invisible hands pulling its ends apart. It unfurls in mid air, hovering just before the Sovereign so that he and any others might read what is written within:
Now that I have your attention,
Your presence is required a week from today. I have cleared a section of Veneror Peak for us to meet.
Bring with you two others whom you trust. Do not think you can hide from me.
Go in peace.
There is no signature, no hint as to who wrote the letter... but something tells you this can only be the work of the deities.
Welcome to Novus’ first Summit! Your Sovereign is required to participate in this SWP. This will be a political meeting for the four Courts to come together on neutral grounds and discuss relations.
It is highly encouraged for the Sovereign to attend: be aware, Tempus will not respond kindly if Somnus is absent. It is expected for all three members of the Regime to attend the meeting (@Somnus @ipomoea @orion) however, if one of more Regime members cannot attend, it is up to @Somnus to choose who to send to the meeting in their stead. Choose wisely!
Everyone else is allowed to post in this board and explore the area! Please be aware: the meeting area itself is currently sealed, and only the Regime and their chosen representatives will be allowed in! That being said, feel free to post threads wondering what the heck is going on! ;D
As for this thread: @Somnus has priority in replying. After he has, any other Court members are welcome to voice their thoughts!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The meeting will start on June 1st and will last until June 14th. A new thread will be started giving more instructions for the Sovereigns at that time.
The lanterns flickered softly in the fading daylight, their flame beginning to dance more vibrantly as darkness began to encroach upon the land. It had been another full day of festivities, brimming with various talents and acts unlike anything the golden girl had ever seen. Her heart had filled with a sense of longing at the sights and sounds, her own talents buried beneath the weight of vengeance. She could imagine it though, her artwork place on display here -- perhaps selling a piece or two for a decent coin. Her lips twitched ruefully, bitterness squeezing against every beat of her heart. It was barbed like thorns, a dig of guilt at every turn that it was she who had been saved -- and not those that she loved. Her beloved mother’s face still haunted her, that last sad smile before the darkness enveloped her.
It had taken years for her to find comfort in the darkness again, even the one that existed behind her eyelids. Sleep still evaded her on most nights, though they were becoming less and less with the passage of time. Her gaze shifted across the way, passing over the various merchants and their wares up towards the stage where a dark colored mare was dancing. She was beautiful, in an assortment of veils and coin -- perhaps a gypsy of some kind although Lei could not be sure.
She turned her back just as the woman finished her display, an ear turning back towards the applause, as she stands amidst the crowd. People from every race and faction linger in the festival grounds, conversations being murmured between couples or tea being shared among friends. Delumine is flourishing, blooming like the flowers in the meadow and for the briefest of moments -- the golden daughter can imagine what peace feels like again. She should like to bring this feeling back home, to Solterra, too.
She had been a refugee in this land for too long. Her heart ached for the scorching heat and glittering finery of her homeland, but fear of it had kept her away this long. Solterra was a shell of its former glory, and chaos still reigned despite a brief period of stabilization. Even now, whispers of the Davke’s coup had spread like poison -- and it made Soleil worried about her plans to return, to reclaim the glory of the Hajakha name.
She reached up to touch the golden butterfly pin, helping to hold the loose waves of her blonde hair in place. Someday She promised herself silently, absently reaching out to pluck up someone’s forgotten flower crown. Someday I will make it right again.
She admired the crown, a combination of greenery and some blue flowers that she’d never seen before. Her head twisted in both directions, sure that it’s owner would come to reclaim it -- such a pretty thing should have never been lost in the first place.
It was hard not to notice the bird that had fluttered down in to the Court, the deep bellow of a voice that wasn't from the creature itself. Hard to miss how the earth had danced and shook and reformed. Jaxis was keen on observation usually, but this level of what had happened was absurd, and she was rather surprised that there weren't many others already trekking up to the towering trees and what felt like unseen eyes settling on them.
For once, her speckled flanks gave a twitch of unease, her horned head turning as she blinked at the towering plants before her. Mottled lips parted, and Jax found herself licking her lips instead, her ears swiveling to pin back against the waves of ivory mane that settled against her nape and skull.
"So is anyone really here? Or are you just playing games with us?" She finally piped up, perking her ears again as she stepped forward, coming closer to the trees. She was tall, but these trees seemed otherworldly in their massive stature, as if plucked from ancient times and grown to replace actual mountains. Jaxis felt dwarfed, a feat that was not easily achieved.
One massive hoof pawed at the ground, before she lifted it up and knocked against the bark of one of the closest trees that she could reach, looking up at the canopy before back down to where she had touched. It certainly seemed like a normal tree, too, even if it was some titanic creation from the mouths and hands of the deities.
"You guys didn't just grow these for nothing. Or send out birds with voices just to do it...." Her ears twisted back, annoyed for a second. Were they here to intervene with the tensions of the Courts? "What are you here for...? Why now?"
