The dark had come, and again Rorschach found herself somewhere new. It was always the story with this wanderer – a change of scenery, a change of pace. Her inkblot-splashed face turned to the heavens, staring at the stars as she recited their names in her mind. Cygnus. Aquila. These were constants – the stars, and nothing else. In the days that she’d been cast into nowhere, only the stars had been her companions through the long nights and the cold winters. Only the stars had given her hope that someday she might be reunited with those who were so cruelly taken from her. But as time marched on, even that hope had begun to wane.
Her purple eyes are the only remarkable thing on her in the night, glowing softly as she blinked against the darkness. Already, she had adjusted to night vision, making out the forms of milling equines here and there, but she didn’t stop to talk. Ahead there was a temple, stoic and proud against the midnight sky, and she knew without asking that she was in a place of great reverence. Not one to disturb the peace, Rorschach strayed to the shadows, out of sight for most of the evening walkers, unless they too chose to lurk on the edge.
One such beast stood in her path, and for a moment, the grey and brindled mare was taken aback. She stopped short of reaching him, piercing eyes roaming up and down his form. There was a dangerous look to him – a regal look to him. Even in the night, she could see that he was a creature not to be meddled with. Time had taught the mare another thing – to be cautious around strangers. The scars that littered her body told him that she could handle herself, but still, she kept a respectable distance away, letting the male close the gap between them, if he so chose.
Early evening had mercifully broken through the hold of midday, bringing with it a cool breeze that bit pleasantly at Avdotya’s sweat-soaked body. Even a mare as well-adjusted to the desert as she found herself cursing the intense heat at times- and right now happened to be one of those times. Her hooves dragged lazily in the sand as she approached the glittering shore of the oasis. It was surprisingly without any occupants and the sight of that brought the slightest hint of a smile to her parched lips. She always appreciated a moment of quiet after a long day.
The cool touch of the water was a welcome and refreshing sensation upon her skin. The mare reveled in the near-instant relief of the heat that radiated from her body and took a rare moment to herself, letting her guard down if only for a second to enjoy the water. She waded into the pond until it reached her withers and remained there until her mind made itself aware of her indulgence, but even then Avdotya only drifted to a depth that lapped at her shoulder. It was not often that she was able to take advantage of the oasis being so quiet on a hot summer eve.
While the woman’s fiery eyes lingered on the shore, she gently used her muzzle to spill water over her back. It had been a long while since she was last able to cleanse herself of the dirt and grime that collected on her black hide. That much was evidenced by the change in the water around her, going from pristine and clear to murky in little time at all. With the amount of dust that had come off, it felt as though she had shed a layer of her own skin... quite fitting, really, for a mare many had often compared to a serpent in the past.
home is behind the world ahead
there are many paths to tread
Evenings like this brought on memories of the past. As the sun is setting and the sky seems to be draped in silks of purples, pinks, blues, yellows, and oranges. Weir would think of the festivals of her youth to celebrate everything from spring and the coming of new life all the way to the fall where the great harvest would begin and the food was abundant. The girls would dress in their finest clothes of all colors of the rainbow. They would dance and laugh as musicians would play all through the night. New loves would begin and life was abundant if the harvest is good. Fall is a wonderful time in Weir’s mind because it also means snow would be coming and Weir loved snowed and snow storms. She loved how she would blend into her surroundings and she didn’t have to worry about the strong rays of sun on her light complexion. It was a season on warm furs and warm drinks.
Those are times that had grown very dark for her before she comes here. She entered Novus with many regrets on what she has run from, her child, her life, her father, her home, her people, and everything else she had known. In Novus, she does not have to fear her captor coming back for her but she has no way of getting back to her daughter. Would she ever see her again?
A name jumps to mind in a moment like a warm breeze that relaxes every muscle in her body as his face appears in her mind’s eye as she looks at the setting sun in the east. Rosti. How perfect this moment is that all sunsets point in the direction to this man who she has grown so fond of and she misses dearly. She had left so suddenly in a moment of anxiety. The questions of his faithfulness and or his ability to love and her fear of abandonment or capture make her whole-body shiver. She looks away from the painting in the stars for a moment as she assesses her heart for answers.
Without knowing how to stop herself she suddenly breaks out into a gallop. She is headed straight for the night court and to Rosti. She needs to see him, needs to touch him. She must apologize for her actions and ask if she cares for her like she does for him. She couldn’t hold herself back if she tried. Her heart pounded as she picked up speed and headed through the low land hills of the mountains that would cross over into his home.
Her body is damp from sweat that has collected from the pores all over her body as she slows to a walk, unable to keep the same pace any longer. Her head dips under the weight of her large caribou horns as she strides into the northern lands of Denocte. Her hooves remained firm as she collected herself before coming to a stop and looked at her. She suddenly wonders if she has done something wrong. What if someone took her approach as a threat?
The stars are bright now as the moon is peeking its smiling face over the edge of the land. Her skinned always seemed to glow and her stripes seemed to create a ripple over her body like moonlight through the water. She relaxes her posture in hopes to create a docile impression in case any strangers approached and spoke one sentence.
Rosti, where are you? I have come to see you my dear!
"What if I fall?"
"Oh, but my darling, what if you fly?"
Night had fallen.
The air was warm but not uncomfortably so, a balmy evening in the midst of summer and lacking the grueling bite that came with the sun. Stars twinkled in the dark skies up above the land, beckoning like sirens in the depths of the oceans, shining brightly amidst the Moon and her companions. Beacons, they were, guiding lights for the lost souls who hoped, so desperately, to find their way. Perhaps one day they would.
For Somnus, however, sleep had not come. It eluded him, the fickle mistress, dancing forevermore out of his grasp just as he was about to grab tight to it, eyelids heavy with bodily exhaustion but his mind rapt and vigilant, yearning for some form of competitive quandary. The golden tactician yearned for a good debate, for an equal match of wits and wills that would put his brilliant mind to the test, and allow him at last to settle down with a peacefully clear head. Complacency and stagnancy ruined a man like him, and with so little going on during the day, his mind ran like hell during the night and simply would not stop. It was maddening, overwhelming, thoughts, scenarios, plans, and schedules running over and over in his head before either exhaustion would grab hold and sleep would take him, or he would concede the battle and go wandering.
On this pleasant night, wandering was what Somnus found himself doing. Through the winding halls of the Court did he venture, his steps light but sure, confident with every stride in this impressive construct of talented masonry and amber wings furled close to his body, as so not to knock into anything. It seemed that every new hall brought new discoveries, but he was not treasure hunting. No. Tonight, the young gentleman had one destination in mind, and that was the courtyard, where he could stare up at the heavens and map the stars with his eyes, just as he had done since the days of his youth.
As he made his way through the halls, cream-kissed hooves rasping against the ground with every step he took, Somnus took to humming that same, nondescript song from his colt-hood, fully expecting to be the sole sufferer of insomnia on such a night.
"What if I fall?"
"Oh, but my darling, what if you fly?"
He makes a mighty 'oomph!' as he lands, two cream-kissed hooves digging into the brittle, yellow overgrown grasses for purchase as he comes to a sharp halt in the middle of what appeared to be a vast flatland in full summer’s bloom. The golden tactician lands elegantly and with noticeable poise, muscled haunches tucking beneath a toned rump as magnificent amber wings coil and close, tucking themselves soundly against shuddering, breathless sides of pale flaxen. Sweat mars his hide in an unsatisfactory way, beading and perspiring beneath the cruel heat of the summer sun and darkening rich gold hairs to a deeper copper. Locks of ivory mane clung about his neck, sticky and wet, curling and furling about a handsome, youthful face and toned cheeks, and had he not been so satisfied with his geographical discovery, Somnus would be lamenting his current state of dress even more so than he deemed completely necessary.
“Hardly becoming at all…” He muttered sourly, less than impressed with himself. Still. There was naught he could do when flying beneath the harsh rays of a mid-summer sun with no protection or cover to shield him. Ah, well. That was what he received when traipsing on an afternoon flight in the midst of summer. What could he expect other than to become at least a little unsightly? It wasn’t as though he had planned to impress anyone today, not when the only thing on his mind was to learn more about this land he had only so recently arrived in.
Only then did he turn his gaze onwards, sharp, inquisitive depths of the purest emerald peering out across the scorched land, staring, absorbing. Memorizing. Dry and brittle grasses and vegetation stretched as far as the eye could see amidst the rolling hills and valleys, the visible earth giving only a teasing hint as to the true dimensions of the plains that he stood upon now. Scattered groves of trees broke up the monotony, splashes of greenery, all varying in sizes and species, scattered amidst the land and providing ample shade for any who wish to receive respite from the heat of the sun. Perhaps, after a bit more investigating, Somnus would retire amidst the shade for an afternoon nap. For now he was content to continue his careful scrutiny, relishing in the breeze that had since picked up and done wonders to cool hot sweat. To the south, its majestic figure, regal and dominating, was the large mountain that the tactician had soared past on both his way to the Dawn Court as well as to these very plains. It was a grand mountain, raising high up in the air and into the clouded heavens themselves. Maybe one day he would climb the mountain, if only to satisfy the curiosity of what might be awaiting at the top.
After a few more moments of admiring the majesty that was Mount Veneror, the dunalino gentleman continued his venture, humming a nondescript tune from his colt-hood beneath his breath as he roamed the fields of green and gold. Grass crackled and crunched underfoot with every step he traversed, bugs buzzing about and flies skirting far too close before a flick of an ivory tail sent them scurrying back into the air. It was a lovely day for a little stroll, albeit a tad bit too hot, but far from miserable. Nearby a herd of mottled, tawny bison grazed, and Somnus took heed to give them a wide berth. This was clearly their territory, their home, and the last thing that he wished for was to upset the balance that they had created.
Coming across a small stream bubbling merrily through the fields, the tactician paused to quench his thirst, and it was there that he decided to rest and cool off before continuing his exploration.
As much as he appreciated the fortitude and (perceived) safety offered by the swamp's borders, and as sweet as the fruits that grew within the boundaries were, sometimes you just needed something a little more down-to-Novus to assuage your aching belly. Hooves heavy with the weight of the thin man's body thudded into the ground as he yawned, quietly trudging through the field in the dead of the night.
A mighty yawn ripped from his throat, near silent but for the whisper of his breath, yet placing his teeth on full display, which had some fangs to make his gaping jaws more of a maw. But it was a passive one as of now as the man to which it belonged lowered it to the ground, snuffling at the grasses that made of the field and searching for the lushest of stalks. It was summer, and the night was warm, but was still near enough to spring that the fields were not yet barren of life and filled with dry brown, and as he nipped off the tips of a few blades to take a taste the man found them crunching nicely in his teeth.
They weren't completely plush and full of water, but they were still quite good. Being incredibly hungry helped a lot.
He had known a trip to a place with more plentiful grasses was soon to be in order, but he had delayed as long as he could. His stomach had twisted from the amount of sugary fruit he had poured into it, and while that was not to say he had been avoiding the grasses of the swamplands, what he ate was simply not enough to counterbalance the other foods that did not make up the best of diets.
Too much fruit and too little grass made for an upset tummy.
And while simply not eating was, admittedly, one solution to the 'too much fruit' aspect of the issue, it did nothing to resolve the 'too little grass' part. And there came a time in every being's life when you simply couldn't go back to sleep no matter how hard you tried, for whatever reason.
For one Auru Geniven, connoisseur of anxiety levels the likes of which had never before been seen in Novus, that reason was the insistent stabbing pain in his abdomen, and the angry roiling of his belly as he laid on a relatively dry patch of land in the swamp, groaning quietly as he tried in vain to return to his repose.
No such luck, and so with a few fruits down the hatch for the energy needed to walk the distance to the fields (his stomach protested the lack of grass, but dealt with it for the time being), the equine found himself in fresh pastures, and despite himself, felt more than a little eager for a good, late-night meal.
Even as he cast his gaze from side to side, nervously scouting the empty (or so he thought) plains, even as he swallowed the small lump in his throat, and battled the whirling thoughts that he shouldn't be there, he found his ears pricking forwards despite himself, and found himself nosing the grasses with more excitement than he had thought he would feel.
(Admittedly, he had assumed this would be sort of a 'run in, eat as much as you can, run away again' sort of deal, but if thing stayed the way they were, he was content to ignore the feelings of being watched and the occasional clenching of his throat for a good meal. No one would have to know he was ever here.)
Crunch.
Crunch.
Munch.
He wouldn't lie, the feeling of relief in his abdomen as he swallowed mouthful after mouthful did make him wonder why he had not simply bucked up and come out here sooner. He was a member of the Court, was he not? He was allowed to go where he wished within the borders.
No you're not, you're a Commoner.
And what did that have to do with anything? He still lived here, his rank didn't restrict him from anywhere.
But you're you, you're supposed to stay in the swamps. You'll get in trouble for leaving.
Why?
Logic didn't necessitate that one be victorious over irrational anxiety, and while no amount of logical thinking could stop the itch along the man's back, or stop the heaviness in his breast, or the shortness of breath if he didn't make sure to take slow, steady breaths, the sheer need for food was, for the moment, overriding the need to run back to a place that was defensible. Or that at least felt that way.
Black as holes within a memory
And blue as our new second sun
The leaves in the trees brush against each other emitting a rustle that is light and soft on the ears but just loud enough to disguise Alioths delicate cloven hooves pressing into the soft soil of summer with its thick earthy smell. The air is humid and hot as it flows effortlessly into her lungs. Her wavy depthless tail drags lightly on the soil as if to lightly trace the tendrils of hair like fingers upon the cheek of mother earth. Her hair is full bodied and soft as a newborn, light upon the wind like the seeds that float from the trees in the wind. The seeds are so thick that it seems like it is snowing on such a warm morning. The world is alive with new life, new romance, new challenges, and new journeys.
Alioth is here now, here in Novus. This forbidden land that she has only read about in scripture and heard stories of as she grew up. They talked about a race of horses that are monsters who worship strange gods and live a savage life. The history of Novus is different in so many ways to the world across the sea.
First impressions of this land are mild at best. Veteris is much more beautiful in its landscapes and historical monuments. Aloiths kingdom of Summer is, of course, her favorite place to be and in her opinion much better than any of the other three kingdoms of Veteris. The waters are a light blue with sandy beaches of white. The reefs just off shore where the coral grew and an entire ecosystem of fish, turtles, eels, sharks, dolphins, starfish, sand dollars, and more. The variety is far more diverse than anything Alioth has seen in her venture to try and see how far this world of Novus goes.
She is here to collect information and perhaps create alliances with those who might protect her summer kingdom in the future if the need ever arises. She also planned to learn of the history here and further educate her people whenever she returns to her kingdom. Her one and true home.
She avoided sight from other horses as best as she could by taking roads overgrown but still evident from a time long ago and sheltering in caves or under deep cover to not be spotted by the sky. Certainly, someone had seen her. Her pearlescent coat of blues, purples, and greens is not the most discrete look but she is proud of her scales that cover her back and face. They are a symbol of the purity of her blood that descends from her ancestors.
Alioth thought this dawn court that people whispered about would suit her needs for the time being. It seems lush and green unlike the sandy desert to the east. Alioth is a creature born of land and sea, the lack of water in the day court would shrivel her skin up like a raisin, not a good look for a queen.
Amethyst spheres surveyed the world in front of her but made no sound, they would see her soon enough and someone would become curious enough to come to her, queens don’t beg and don’t crawl after others. Like moths to a flame, they will come, she is sure of this.
"What if I fall?"
"Oh, but my darling, what if you fly?"
Despite the wind rushing in his ears, the old scholar's words still echoed in his head and held promise that they would not vacate his mind anytime soon. This place, this world, this Novus... It was as new as it was old. It was grandeur and adventure, glory and redemption. It was mystery, promise, and hope all in the form of rolling hills, vast prairies, marvelous mountains, and scorched deserts.
Somnus had felt a little guilty that his inquiry, his thoughtful question of, "How did this place come to be?" had resulted in the elderly scholar to be so worn out, but his tale had spun a world so vast, so ripe for the taking that the dunalino stallion had been unable to ignore the desire alight in his breast. He wanted to know more of this place, this Novus, a land wrought and ravaged by one hundred years of darkness and that had, so recently, once again seen the light of day.
'Dawn in the northwest, Day in the northeast, Dusk in the southwest, and Night in the southeast.'
... The Dawn Court.
Leaving the old storyteller to his nap and his clearing of trees, Somnus had taken flight, mighty amber wings stealing the golden tactician away and into the sky, towards the northwest. Lands passed beneath his hooves, steppes giving way to grand mountains, mountains giving way to forests. Flashes of color passed beneath him all ripe with the thralls of summer, and sharp, crisp emerald eyes missed no detail as he soared overhead, mighty wings beating in tune to his pumping heart, propelling him towards his goal, his heart's desire.
First, he would land there, at the Court of the Rising Sun. There, he would greet whoever was in charge, introduce himself with the poise and eloquence required of a studious gentleman, and then proceed to inquire more about this land. After that, well... There were still three other sections of Novus to explore, to learn, to map, and Somnus had every intention on grasping it tight within his maw and never letting it go. This was a new challenge, a new opportunity to prove himself, and had never been one to squander a chance.
There!
The dark twisting spires were the first physical evidence of the Dawn Court in the distance, the tawny brick and mortar structure looming ever so proudly amidst the treetops. The closer he grew, the more easily he could spot it, and it was with breathless anticipation that the golden tactician spread his wings for the landing. The landing was smooth, with noticeable grace of the seasoned flyer, and Somnus' hooves landed upon the stone ground with a rhythmic staccato, gradually slowing until he came to a halt before the Court.
Sharp emerald eyes roamed every nook and cranny of the structure before him, the onyx of his horn glinting in the bright sunlight as he tucked strong, amber wings against broad, golden sides. There, standing at attention, he settled.
This was the Dawn Court, and this was where his story truly began.
Salt and desaturated greengray foam licked amicably at the silver mare’s chest as she slipped out into the waves, hooves digging into the seafloor to keep her balance as the waves rolled in and out of the dirty shore – glittering with fragments of seashell and distant, from her position at the edge of a sandbank. The screech of gulls was barely audible over the bellow of wind as they dove in and out of the horizon, dark silhouettes cast against the midday sun and periwinkle-blue sky, still coated in a fine layer of nebulous white even in the wake of a storm that had ravaged the coast the previous night, judging by the state of the driftwood and beached jellyfish strewn out along the shoreline. That was, however, before the tide had rolled in. When it trickled back out in a few hours, she imagined that no signs of the storm would remain at all. The ocean had a way of wiping away all but the sturdiest ridges and crags that lined it, and even those eventually succumbed to the stubborn pull of time. (She did not visit the coast often, but, whenever she stared out at the ocean waves, she could understand why travelers would occasionally call the Mors “a sea of sand.” Fluttering, changing, fickle – and unyielding. Seraphina knew that she couldn’t drown in the dunes, but sometimes she felt like she could.)
She could not see the ground through the murk as it settled and bobbed in equal measures around her legs, though she thought that she could occasionally catch a glimpse of silver scales, flickering and flashing like pale fire in the sunlight. There were far larger beasts in the Terminus, and deadlier ones, but they rarely ventured so close to shore; these were simply minnows, their absentminded curiosity sending them darting between her legs or nibbling at her heels, terribly unafraid of the far larger creature – or what they could see of her, with their strange little bubbles of eyes. Seraphina thought that they were quite strange for it, and quite bold. She would have been a bit impressed, had she not seen them snatched up by seabirds in droves, though their feathered assailants had fled as she had swum to the bank, and they dared not return while her presence remained. Giving a small shake of her legs to allow her small, scaled companions to scatter before she dragged her comparably behemoth form into motion again, she clambered out of her hole in the sand, and, pushing off with her hindquarters, returned to swimming – or, rather, floating. As soon as her hooves left the sand, she allowed her body to drift, though her cautious gaze flitted between the horizon and the bank. After her encounter in the Maze, she had been forcing herself to learn to swim, and, if she were to ever find the nerve to dive beneath the surface, she knew that she had to become comfortable with water, the way it ebbed and flowed. However, she was also well aware of the temper of the Terminus, and she did not want to chance allowing the tide to drag her out to the open ocean. (When she closed her eyes, there was still black water in her mouth – in her eyes, on her tongue, swallowing her, choking her, dragging her deeper and deeper and deeper.) So she kept them open and watched the gulls again, their chatter a cold comfort from the murky unfamiliarity (and her own prickling sense of uncertainty) of the sea.
wow, look, the absolute /last/ thing I needed to be doing
anyways, AW! <3
The field stretched wide and green beneath a summer sky, and Pan danced among the ruby red flowers as swaths of sunlight filtered through the meadow. He was enjoying the last of the warmth, knowing that fall was coming with the undeniable bite in the air – but it didn’t bother him much. Though Pan was a creature that tended to follow the sun, he liked the prospect of colder temperatures and changing leaves. His entire existence to this point had been by the sea, and while he missed the ebb and flow of the salt tide, he was finding living near the river to be sufficient for his need. Plus, there was much more food to be found along the river’s edge.
Munching happily on the sweet shoots of grass, his tail switched this way and that, chasing away pesky flies (though he had to admit, the humming buzz they made was welcome in the silence). Peeking this way and that, he looked for his otter companion, deflated some when discovering that still, his friend hadn’t found his way here. Oliver was such a part of his life over the past few years, that he always seemed to wonder how he made it without his furry friend. But, the little otter always seemed to find his way back to Pan’s side. Perhaps it was only a matter of time.
”Hello! Is anybody out there?!” he yelled suddenly into the silence, wanting to hear anything to break the quiet. Singing quietly to himself, he tried to stave away the awkwardness of silence, heart heavy with the lack of company. It was wearing on the social creature to stay alone for such a long period of time, and he found himself wishing for company. Wondering aloud, his mind drifted toward Inkheart, and their worship session on the mountain. ”Solis… are you there?” But again, the god was silent.
To be honest, Pan was beginning to wonder if anyone was here, other than himself. Maybe he should go and search for Flora at the Dusk Court… at least she seemed to have made a lot of new friends.
