There is no part of Terrastella this Festival does not touch. Winter reaches out to all. This season, and its year are fading. A new year and a new season are coming. This is a time to celebrate the dying year and to look to the new. Roam, take yourself to each of Terrastella’s lands and see which one suits you more. Do you care to visit them all? Or is there just one place that draws you in; a moth to a flame.
Here, Susurro Fields are teaming with life. It is full of music and dance. Campfire’s burn and stories are told. Come here if you wish to dance in the open. Snow covers every part of these fields. It glitters gold in the fading of the light. There is a tribute to each god here, a small place to speak to them and give your offerings.
The very air is full of smoke and the scent of sweet foods. Liquor and exotic drinks are found in every corner. Every tree that stands is strung with lamps, and torches fill the meadow with gold and red.
Stand in the open here, in this place of revelry and look up to the sky where the Aurora Australis weaves a myriad of colours across the sky.
-The festival concludes on the 31st of January as the old Novus year ends and the new Novus year begins with spring on the 1st of February. -
It was a strange feeling, to find himself once again as a piece upon the board. Even if he had been born for it, his blood the blood of King's, of legends who bore their crowns and flew with dragons. Isorath appeared to never be able to truly shake the taste from his mouth, or the hum in his veins. Perhaps the weight was made pleasant and more tolerable by the fact it was not he who bore the brunt of it.
In any case, he is quick and methodic in enacting his first duty.
Delumine and her Court was the last section of the board, which hadn't felt the presence of the porcelain Kirin. So far, there are no unpleasant whispers which poured out of the land like insidious smoke. Nor a blackened smudge on it's name. Sun burned the Crows wings, as their blackened feathers drowned out his light. Dusk and Dawn glittered and glimmered on the sidelines, watching with interest.
Bedecked in his gilded bridle and crowned by his exquisite halo, Isorath descended on ivory wings. Elegant and otherworldly, lower and lower he circled in slow beats until cloven hooves kissed the stones one after the other, then they were hidden beneath his cloak as it fell in layered pieces around his lithe frame.
He can make out figures in the glass, hear the clack of hooves against stone within. If a curled ear strained, he can hear the murmur of voices and the crackle of fire. There is life within, and no doubt the stranger at their gates has caught their attention.
A gilded talon briefly touched upon the moon charm wrapped on a porcelain tine, standing out against the swathes of gold by it's simplistic beauty. It had become a source of comfort as of late, an ember of heat which flooded his body and caused a small smile to bloom.
Quietly, and serenely, he waited. A glittering vision with a purpose.
TAG: Terrastella's festival invite! it's open to anyone, but I'm tagging the 'big three' just to be safe @Kasil @Somnus @Ipomoea
They had initially gone out with the intention of refreshing themself a little, maybe get a nice, cool drink. The rainwater they collected from the passing storms could only be tolerated for so long. There was just something that wasn't the same about drinking from a bowl as compared to drinking from a natural water source.
It just didn't taste the same.
Unfortunately, the world had other plans, they discovered as they curiously tapped a green-colored hoof against the frozen lake's surface. The clinking noise it made was quite curious. They put their hoof back down, snorting curiously and leaning further forwards to peer over the frozen water, eyes blinking as they took in the interesting happenstance.
Sure, they had traveled Novus and even a bit beyond in the time they spent wandering, but they had still grown up in Solterra, they were still someone who had been used to milder winters than these. They were hardly opposed to the colder weather, in fact, they loved it, but the effects it had on the environment were still rather fascinating to them.
Now, it wasn't as though Seree had never encountered ice before, because they certainly had. They had fallen on slick patches of it more times than they cared to consider in their blind travels, not having seen it as they stepped forwards. But a whole lake, frozen over? That was new.
Their reflection wasn't exactly very clear, not only in the warped surface of the ice but in the light dusting of snow that had fallen on top of it, rendering the slick surface with a sparse cover and a little more traction. Curiously, Seree wondered if the ice could hold their weight, and if the snow provided enough traction for them to walk.
Wouldn't that be something, to stand in the middle of the lake? Certainly a point of view they would never have seen before.
The horse gingerly set a single hoof down on the ice's surface, slowly pressing more of their weight onto it. The ice creaked a little, but not in a dangerous way. More like it was simply bending a little under the weight they pressed onto it, but not being damaged by it. Of course, they were still in the very shallow end, the rest of their hooves still planted on un-frozen ground. With at least one hoof firmly on the ice, the horse gingerly lifted another, and transferred more of their weight onto the frozen surface.
The light dusting of snow provided enough traction for their incredibly slow and steady movements to allow them to transfer all four hooves onto the lake's surface with no trouble. They could feel how easy it would be to slide about on the ice, but if they moved slowly and carefully enough, and kept all of their weight centered, they ought to have no problems. With that, they slowly began to walk towards the middle of the lake.
The ice made no more protests as they moved forwards, Seree slowly measuring each step and transferring their weight slowly as they tested whether or not it could hold them. So far, so good. They began to feel more encouraged, steps speeding up.
But not enough for them to fall, not quite fast enough for that yet.
In time, they came to the center of the lake, the horse looking out as all sides were now visible at the same distance. Wow, this certainly was something. They momentarily felt their breath taken away at the view they'd never seen before. It was enough for them to paw their hooves at the ground with excited energy, and that was how it all started.
Seree pushed against the ice with one of their back hooves, not really intending to do anything by it, but quickly discovered that they pushed themself forwards. Just a few inches, but enough for the horse to lurch and nearly lose their footing, bring their hoof back down quickly and pressing their hooves into the ice for grip. Their legs wound up a tad bit splayed, but they stopped, the frost helping them not to fall.
Their heart had leapt into their throat at the unexpected skid. Well... that was something. They nervously shuffled to get all four hooves back underneath them, firmly this time. In and out, in and out, they forced themself through several deep breaths to try and calm their racing heart.
When they had themself back under control, their natural curiosity got the better of them. They gingerly raised their back hoof again, and pushed themself forward, just the slightest bit. Seree felt a childish giggle building up in the back of their throat as they moved forward a little bit again, more stable now that they knew what to expect.
But of course, the confidence went to their head.
They pushed to hard with their other hoof, and moved too quickly for their body, unfamiliar with the movements. They scrambled, trying to find their footing again, but unfortunately finding themselves sprawled out on the ice moments later, groaning quietly. They managed to roll over onto their chest and raise their head easily enough.
Well, that was a bit unpleasant. But it didn't hurt, not too bad at least.
And, well, that had been rather fun. Maybe if they just took it more slowly before speeding things up...
Suffice to say, they had inadvertently discovered a new way to play, and Seree was very excited to keep trying it out.
@Lyra
OOC: Don't stop them now, the moment of truth, they were, born to make history. For Seree and Lyra but anyone else is welcome to come join the fun as well. :D
First of all, he wasn't even sure how he got here.
One minute, he's walking through the swamp land, wandering aimlessly while lost in his own head. The next, he comes across a rocky incline and curiosity takes over. A few minutes later, and he's utterly lost, only the wide stretch of the steppe's unforested grassland surrounding him on all sides. He wasn't even sure if he could find his way back to the swamp he'd gotten so turned around.
It just seemed to stretch on endlessly for miles and miles, and he felt starkly out of place in his messy, filthy coat and very dark appearance. He must stick out like a sore thumb. To make matters worse, the whole area seemed to reek of battle and war. It felt like if he turned around he'd be facing down a fight.
He didn't much think he wanted to fight.
And the situation showed no signs of improving, as the distant rumbling of thunder bid the oncoming storm. It wasn't quite freezing today, so there would be no snow. It was just above the threshold for that, bidding only frigid, horrid rain.
And he was lost, and very much so exposed to the elements.
Oh Vespera he wanted to go home.
He was mostly left alone in the swamplands, more so due to the fact that he knew how to avoid company by now if he didn't wish it. (For the most part, he knew the well trodden areas, but some people loved to veer off path.) This place seemed to be frequented by many, and was far less enclosed than the muggy environment he was used to. He could see for miles, and anyone nearby could see him.
For once, his need to go home began to overpower the fear of meeting others. Surely, someone would be kind enough to point him back in the direction of the swamp?
He opened his mouth, before his breath caught in his throat and he choked on his call. He slowly closed his mouth, enormous canines nibbling on his lip, the sharp points causing a small trickle of blood to drip to the ground as he chewed, the man hardly even noticing the damage. It only added to the scent of iron that permeated the area. The scent of sweat and conflict.
He couldn't, not in this place. No warrior, no fighter, would help him. He would be ridiculed.
Or even slain for setting hoof into a warrior's domain.
His pupils shrunk to pinpricks as he inadvertently began hyperventilating through his nose. The man stilled, before turning around where he stood, ears flat against his head as he scanned the horizon for any presence, any at all. He turned back again, still looking, and seeing nothing but endless stretches of steppe reaching off into the horizon.
His hooves nervously tapped in place, as he almost danced where he stood, slowly realizing just how out of place he was in this warrior's domain.
Oh gods, he was so exposed, he could be caught at any moment!
He could feel the uncomfortable prickle that felt like he was being watched crawling up his spine.
His head snapped to look over his shoulder, but he could see no one.
Nothing.
It didn't stop him from breaking into a gallop as he gave a frightened cry, racing off into the distance to try and run away from the perceived danger. It felt like he was being hunted by a wolf pack, and his pupils were practically non-existent as he ran with everything he had, the copper of his irises overtaking the black as he sprinted off into nowhere.
All he could see was the endless reaching of nothingness and nowhere, and all he could feel was the phantom sensation of hunting dogs snapping at his heels, teeth grazing at his hocks, their eyes prickling at his spine.
OOC: Figured this place would be the best place for an anxiety-ridden mess and a youth from two different courts to meet, since it's right between the borders. :D
And I don't want the world to see me
'Cause I don't think that they'd understand
Snow crunched under their hooves. They surely made quite a sight, two black forms amidst a backdrop of white snow, circling about a lake covered in ice. Their pace was slow, leisurely. Occasionally they would brush shoulders as they walked, closer than simple friends, the sparse distance between them speaking of an intimacy that they themselves may not have even known. Silence reigned between them, the need for words long gone. Words were superficial when all they needed was a look, a smile, or a frown, able to read one another quickly and effortlessly through eyes of mahogany or crimson.
Apollo was, to put it simply, content. Oh, his heart still ached for Zola. He felt incomplete in ways that not even Ktulu could fill. There was a part missing within his heart, within his soul, a little niche reserved only for the eyeless feline that had come into his life so dramatically. His heart would always ache for Zola, and he would never stop searching for her. The overo knew that his thoughts and feelings were mutual in the eyes of Ktulu, who still surely so desperately yearned for Eytan to return to her side. Instead, they only had each other. It wasn’t a bad situation, not at all, but it could be so much better. Hadn’t they lost enough?
Reaching over amidst their leisurely pace, Apollo pressed his muzzle into the golden etchings of his dark lady’s shoulder tattoo. He lipped at the familiar lines, swallowing a deep sigh of contemplation. His love for her, once hidden away and ignored for fear that she would not love him the same when so much had transpired between them, had reared its head incessantly, a force that he could no longer ignore. And, over the months since their arrival to Novus, Apollo found that he lacked the willpower to continue to ignore it, not with his heart so heavy from their shared losses. So, as the days trickled into weeks and the weeks trickled into months, more and more little actions began to sneak out, subtle and not-so-subtle mannerisms making their way into the light of day.
He had never been shy about physical affection, not with Ktulu. Yet during their stay within Denocte and the Night Court, he found that he would brush against the ebony mare in passing, or nose the tresses of her mane, inhaling her familiar scent. He would nibble along her spine in a way reminiscent to their younger years, when they had chased one another and danced so flirtatiously within the Heavenly Fields. He would smile at her as though she were his world, and, Apollo was finding, she was. Ktulu was everything. There would be no world without her in it, and at times, he found himself crippled with the sudden fear of losing her.
They had been through so much, though. Surely she wouldn’t. She couldn’t. Right? Self-doubt was a common enemy to the Merciful, as was anxiety and depression. Things were different now. They weren’t who they used to be. Regardless, Apollo spent his time leaning upon her, relishing in her presence and her unfathomable strength, and when the darkness became too much for her to handle, when the weight of their new world was far too heavy, Apollo would offer his shoulder for Ktulu to lean against instead.
They worked well together, the two of them, and Apollo knew he was doomed. Smitten. In unfathomable, unexplainable love. He never wanted to imagine a world without the Constrictor in it. Couldn’t.
It had been Apollo who had suggested their little stroll around the lake of Denocte, ignoring the flurries that fell from the heavens in a lazy pace that matched the lack of urgency they so displayed along their walk. He was warm and content by ktulu’s side, glancing sidelong with adoring honey-brown eyes, the windows to the depths of his soul, his love. He would bump against her as they walked, her touch feeding an undying flame within his breast.
“… This is nice,” he murmured thoughtfully, snow crunching beneath their hooves and the sound of flurries falling like whispers to his ears, “Just the two of us. It’s nice to just get away.” Denocte had been very accommodating since their arrival, but Apollo felt stifled within their Court. It was different then the life he was used to, among herds and a band of mercenaries. Oh, they were all nice, he supposed, but there was a lazy sort of complacency among them, a stagnancy that he didn’t fancy. He couldn’t imagine much promise within the Night Court, much purpose, but the only purpose he truly desired was at his side. ’Home’ was the form of an ebony lady with ivory tresses and piercing, fierce crimson eyes.
Wherever Ktulu went, Apollo would follow. That was simply how they were. That was their dynamic, and he wouldn’t change it for anything.
The Merciful exhaled, mist furling upwards towards the sky only to disappear. Brows pinched, honey-brown eyes glanced away, towards the frozen lake. “Ktu, I… There’s something I want to tell you. Something I should’ve told you a long time ago.” Something that he had told her, once upon a time. Years ago, he had laid his heart bare, speaking the words that he had been terrified to utter. That, however, was a different lifetime, and he could not allow it to sully this moment.
When everything's made to be broken
I just want you to know who I am
He only ever seemed to leave the swamp for two reasons.
1. If he was summoned to a meeting of some sort, in which case he decided he had better pack up and do what he was told rather than sit around and get in trouble for not responding to the call.
2. If he was hungry and swamp fruits just weren't cutting it anymore.
This was more of a case of the latter, and just like the previous times he had skulked out here, he had to restrain himself from groaning in near ecstasy at the taste of proper grass. Fruits were sweet and delicious, but they were more like treats, desserts, than proper food. And while he could easily survive off of the vegetation that coiled up around the trunks of the trees and sprouted from the peat, it was hardly very appetizing. While his body could make do, and technically speaking, he never had to leave the safety of the murk and the heat, even his ever-present nerves could only keep him bound to that place for so long before the need to eat something more fulfilling bid him to leave his comfort zone.
It was chilly, and snow seemed intent of fluttering down from the sky and soaking into his already matted coat, making him now messy, and cold. Fucking great.
He supposed, that on the bright side, he was a bit cleaner than he had been before. The clean water of the snow melt that ran down his form washing off some of the gunk that clung to his coat, even if only a little. He wasn't so beautiful with the flakes that attached themselves to his form, instead looking rather miserable. An embodiment of the swamplands so rudely covered with frost.
He grumbled his frustrations quietly under his breath as he nosed the snow aside, digging for the tastier morsels to be found below the cold and frozen flakes. Sure, they were fairly deadened at this point, but Vespera did they still taste better than the prickly leaves he had been eating the past few days, unable to stomach the sweetness of the fruits any longer.
He was making something of a trail in the snow, in a multitude of ways. There was the pattern of his hoofsteps as he walked, leaving interspersed imprints from every step. There was the trail of exposed earth, cleared of grass by his jaws and the trail forged by his nose as he pushed his way through the snow in search of more to eat. And even a light trail of dark stains on the pristine snow, markers from where the melting flakes that landed on his back had washed down his form, becoming filthy with the muck on his form and dripping down their dirty water to create small, dark spots in the clear whiteness below.
Posted by: Cyrene - 01-03-2018, 02:03 AM - Forum: Archives
- No Replies
CYRENE .
per aspera ad astra
There—just strides away from her—sat the sly fox, not even sparing her a glance as it nonchalantly licked a carmine paw. That devious little thing is taunting me, Cyrene huffed, gold-flecked wings pinned sleekly against her sides as tawny eyes gleamed with still-fresh adrenaline. The chase never failed to thrill her—the heart-pounding anticipation, the whistling wind breathing secrets into her ears like a trusted companion. But what she loved most of all was that it made her feel whole again. For a sacred moment, her bleeding heart was filled with the comforting warmth of nostalgia—a fading summer's day, the air buzzing with the rhythmic chirp, chirp, chirp of leaf-green locusts as a girl with wild curls and crimson wings twirled under an azure sky.
A red streak flew across the snow. How foolish, to let her eyes slip from the wily fox for even a second! With a spirited leap, the distant summertime memory was buried under a flurry of snow as Cyrene burst out of the underbrush hot in pursuit, nimble hooves barely skimming the crystalline powder in her speed. Running from me is futile, tricky one! Deftly leaping over snow-covered boulders and frozen streams, the distance between the lion-eyed huntress and her unfortunate prey steadily closed. Perhaps sensing its imminent doom, the panicked fox spun on its heels quick as a whip and snapped its razor-sharp teeth at Cyrene’s velveteen nose; its jaws closed on air, a laugh spilling out of the wood nymph’s rosy lips as she sprang harmlessly out of the way. "I’m afraid you’re mistaken, Mr. Fox,” she sang, "for I don’t intend to eat you. If you must know, I’m a vegetarian.” Smiling cheerily at the wary creature, she gently lowered her head until mirthful eyes met vulpine ones narrow with apprehension. "But I thank you for the wondrous chase—and it seems you’ve led me to a new land as well!”
As the dazed fox dashed away, eager to get as far as it could from that mad girl, Cyrene stretched her willowy limbs leisurely as she surveyed her surroundings with interest. The boat ride earlier had been a… novel experience. Though the bold lass would never reject adventure even if it came in the form of a fire-breathing dragon (did they exist here?), she planned to avoid boats for a little while at least. Seasickness was an awful feeling, and if Cyrene had known that beforehand she would’ve concocted a simple tonic for banishing nausea. Heaven knows how much she’d needed it.
Novus—that was what they had called this vast land. It was a kingdom she’d never known of prior to stepping onto the ferry that had transported her across the stormy seas. Granted, she hadn’t known any of the lands she’d traveled through after departing Pelion almost a year ago. Yet the farther Cyrene wandered, the louder the voice in her mind had begged her to linger, to stay. To settle, instead of roaming for eternity like a lost lamb.
Amber eyes angled skywards, coming to rest on a spot where a particular constellation would glimmer, faintly, in the night sky. "Is it time to stop running, Cygnus? Have I fled far enough from the smoke, from the plague—from you?” But sweet Cygnus could not answer from the grave.
@Israfel and anyone else! | notes: i'm still trying to grasp this girl's voice ^^;
Well, nice for winter, anyways. Either way, Seree Quyi was rather partial to colder climates as it just so happened, so they were more than pleased with the frigid touches that wound their ways between the dark hairs of the horse's coat. Sometimes, even they could get too cold, but after years growing up with the blistering heat on their back and haunches, and feeling like they were being burned alive, they would always be willing to be more tolerant of the cold touches of winter and cool climates.
The snow lay thick upon the earth like a blanket, but rather than trapping in the heat, it kept in the cold. It kept in the freezing and the cold, kept in the frost and burst open the cells of what lay within the bowels of the earth as it froze the waters inside and the soft, so very fragile membranes that bound the cells together burst with the crystal shards, littering the world with diamond flecks as the small organisms, unable to keep themselves warmed, perished.
But to a being as large as a horse, the internal heat regulation they were capable of kept them quite safe from any bursting and freezing. Kept them quite content to ignore the death that flowed beneath them unknown to them, and only reveled in the soft, satisfying crunch beneath their hooves with every step. It was truly a treasure to be able to walk for miles on end and see only clean, untouched snow. There was something so very satisfying with every step, crushing and compacting the untouched substance until it bore their mark.
Flurries of the playful crystals danced in the occasional gusts of wind, buffeting the darkly colored equine and layering their bodice with flecks of what looked like diamond dust. Their mane was bedecked in the stuff, making the green of their hair sparkle like a frosted forest, and the black of their body look like some modern artist's interpretation of the night sky.
Their crown of antlers glistened with both the solid flakes and those that began to melt, making them shimmer like they were coated in a fresh coat of polish. The horse turned their face to the winds, closing their eyes as they allowed the cold, refreshing air to flow through their lungs, invigorating and reviving them. A soft sigh was pulled from their lips, a soft cloud of warm air marking their breath as a smile curled at their lips.
They trotted contently on, pace picking up a little as they walked. They were doubtful that they would find much that could help them in medicine out in these parts in this time of year, but it was simply getting far too cramped and stuffy in the keep. They felt overwhelmed by the fire burning the hearth of the old quarters they had found near the medical ward, especially when the cold gusts of air kept snaking down the chimney to remind them of the fun and adventures to be had outside.
So they had fumbled used their lesser telekinesis to stir up ash from the bottom of the hearth, smothering the flames but keeping the embers beneath shrouded and warm so that they could stir up the flames again when they returned.
For now, they were simply out for an adventure in a winter wonderland, simply walking with no real destination in mind, their pace changing in frequency and temperament as beats and music danced through their mind, coming from everywhere and nowhere. Every now and then, they dipped and spun as though dancing with an unseen partner, especially falling prone to the movements when a gust of the lightly falling snow should brush past them, bowing and tangoing with the winter wind like their partners in this dance were the elements themselves.
@Grainne
OOC: leggo, seree's just enjoying the winter weather and having some fun <3
Araxes still tended to move gingerly, though now it was far less than it had been. Her scabs were now scars, and the wing that had been broken was now mended. Her chest was still sore from fractured ribs, and her legs still ached if she was on them for too long, but it was far better than she had been.
Her hair, the massive length it was on her neck, was all bunched up in to a massive bun of sorts, piled up and pinned down so she wouldn't stagger or step on it, or -- pray be she didn't -- trip on it. The champion was... well, mending, and tired, looking up at the sunset that crawled down the horizon, lighting everything in reds and golds, wonderful hues that reminded her of Solterra and its deserts, and of course, its Warden.
Funnily enough, there was a familiar figure trudging toward her, and the smallest of smiles flicked on her lips, her eyes focusing on the horned titan before her head lifted, and she slowly stood up from the many pillows and blankets that she had gathered at the patio window. "Well.. I wasn't expecting company," she said, letting herself laugh just a little, before tapering it off a little quickly, her chest aching.
@Torstein || boops this along tbh. short and sweet!
t had been many months since she had last wandered the halls of a castle. Strangely, Messalina found that she did not miss it as much as she thought she would. Memories—unnecessary memories—assailed her thoughts at every turn, and the hollow clop, clop of her hooves on the polished marble floor echoed ominously through the vacant halls. Dawn’s ascent had yet to come, the sun still sound asleep as winter’s darkness dragged on; its presence had instilled a drowsiness, a reluctance to rise from a toasty bed, in even the mighty Oriens himself.
The pale-pelted girl felt almost like a thief creeping through the shadows, the faint light emanating from the torches above her flickering as she warily walked ever further into the depths of the castle. This is not turning out to be one of my better ideas, she admitted to herself, tongue pressed lightly against the roof of her mouth as she considered retracing her steps and slipping out as swiftly as she had slipped in. Yet…
It was not as if she’d actually snuck into the castle. She was not fool enough for that. The guard at the gate had given her a drowsy nod and moved aside after she’d shown him the scrawled note the old sage had written. The castle’s library was open to all citizens of Delumine who sought to explore its wealth of knowledge, and having exhausted the sage’s own musty library (a fact that painfully reminded her how dull her everyday life was now) he’d suggested for her to visit the Court’s vast library one day if she wished. Her interest peaked, one day turned out to be the next day, and after promising her employer she’d collect some knowledge for him as well, he’d grumpily written her a note in the wee hours of the morning.
After reminding herself of the trouble she’d gone to, Messalina couldn’t turn back. Her braids lay heavy against her slender neck, further solidifying her resolve. The girl had primped and preened herself for hours the night before, and her flowing locks were plaited into an elaborate lace and dutch masterpiece. It was partially why she was here so early—she’d never been able to sleep well on the eve of an important day, and entering Delumine’s inner court meant possible encounters with nobles. Messalina would never be caught dead looking anything less than noble herself in their presence.
Now, if only she could locate the library… the layout of this grand, ivy-covered citadel was entirely different than Algernon’s, and the dimly lit corridors aided her little in her search. As she turned down another hall identical to the first, she flinched with a start as her cerulean eyes fell upon the unexpected sight of another. Winged and regal in his carriage, the mysterious figure looked to be absorbed in whatever he was doing. He seems like he belongs here, with the confidence in which he walks, she mused. Steps quickening, Messalina drew closer towards the golden stallion, his coat glowing entrancingly under the torchlight. "Pardon me sir, but would you be so kind as to direct me towards this castle’s library?” she inquired, eyes lowered as she dipped her crown in greeting.
