The sun is high and Bexley is content, for once, to step away from it. Her time in the Day Court is a haze of hot weather and sand, the smell of salt, and breezes that do nothing to cool her off; thus her stumble into the oasis is a welcome relief, made even better by the fact that it’s completely empty. Bex is getting worn thin by the personalities of her fellow court members, and there’s a distinct rush of satisfaction in realizing this is a moment she won’t have to share with any of them.
The chain around her neck is a hot white in the sunlight and bounces as she traverses the rocks. Each bleached hoof picking its place delicately, her slender body moving with a calculated grace. The slope to reach the pool is steep enough that Bexley’s curls are flattened against her body, and she has to think before she steps, right, left, crack, taking a kind of pride in how careful she is. For once she is slow and cautious, not ripping right into the problem at hand. Whole moments stretching between the instinct and the action. She breathes the heat-stained air deep, feels it coursing through her body as well as over her sweat-freckled skin. Summer is only going to be worse.
At last she reaches the pool. Around her the ground flattens into baked earth, spattered in some places by the green of stubbornly insistent plants, but softer and browner than anything else she’s seen here. Bexley shakes out her huge white curls and leans to take a deep draught of the cold water, finally feeling an inkling of home in the area that surrounds her.
Dusted with star matter and borne upon tides of nature, hers is the beauty of wild places.
It had been too long.
Too long since the gold dusted mare had felt the heat of flesh against her own, the pressure that built within her frame as her muscles coiled and bunched with the effort of battle. Too long since the tang of blood and sweat filled her nostrils, since dust had settled in the scrapes and the lacerations - those timeless badges of honor earned upon a field most holy. Indeed, it had been months since the paladin had bellowed her summons to a challenger, screamed her defiance of darkness into the burning light of day.
Yet, now, as her golden hooves pressed empty half moons into the well worn earth of the makeshift arena, the shield maiden felt her chest swell with anticipation. She felt the warrior's heart that pulsed within her breast pick up a new pace, the beat of a war drum thrumming within those righteous veins. Breath coming quicker, amber eyes flickering with an almost feverish glint, the mare slowed to a stop near the center of the battle ring, the near constant clinking of her bangles falling away. Gold tipped ears swiveled about, raking the airwaves for the presence of another - for today she would spar one of her own people, draw the blood of a brother or sister in a baptism of violence.
They would both leave the arena battered and bruised, yet they would leave better, and they would leave united.
Heaving a breath, Eden tossed her head, gilded septum glinting in the early afternoon sun as ebony locs and a tangle of wildflowers floated up toward the cloudless azure sky for an instant before falling back to her skin with a familiar thump-and-whisper. It was an effort not to rear, not to stomp, not to give in to the battle rage that steadily built within the mare's core; for it had no place in a battle between siblings, between twin children of Solis, the light.
"Heed my summons, sisters and brothers of Day!" Came her bellow, the words ringing across the Steppe and - hopefully - across the attention of one of Solis' daughters or sons, "Let us do battle, let us worship beneath Solis' godly light."
No longer would she wait.
Summary: Eden walked to the middle of the ring and looked really good and then yelled for a challenger from the Day Court~
Attack Used: 0 Attack(s) Left: 2 Block Used: 0 Block(s) Left: 1 Item(s) Used: LIST ANY ITEMS USED, IF ANY
Of course, of course the magic had not ended upon the shores of the Terminus. Of course it had merely laughed at his assumption of freedom and simply yanked his heart in an unseen line and onto yet another sojourn. Now, as he strolled aimlessly throughout the massive, bramble entwined maze, the stallion had to work not to grind his teeth down to nubs. It had been hours since he had entered the maze and he had only succeeded in getting miserably, woefully, lonesomely lost.
Not that he minded the lonesome part, for the stallion had many things on his mind.
The youthful Charlemagne, and the gentleness that the boy had coaxed out of the gruff male, the paternal stirrings in that broad, scarlet chest that pointed toward some sort of potential that Camdis wasn't aware that he possessed. Part of him rejoiced at this flicker of hope, that yes, he was capable of being a good father, that he wasn't a failure in all things. Another piece of him, though, mourned the ease with which he opened his heart to the lad. It felt like a betrayal, like a cruel insistence that he was everything wrong with a father; the truth that he could not stick around to care for his own children but he could adore the child of another was a cruel one.
Then, there was the matter of the courts and his place within them. He knew, just from his venture in his seemingly endless search for this relic, that the Night Court was the most densely populated, that Calligo was no longer alone behind her wall of mountains. No, it seemed, rather, that the demi-goddess had slipped into the hearts and smiles of countless equines. And while that warmed the scarlet splashed stallion's heart, it also created a cloud of fear that hovered about his shoulders, nipping at his spine and sliding down his neck in a frigid caress; what if he was forgotten within the confines of his beautiful Denocte? What if, in the sheer numbers that had flocked to his beloved deity, he was cast aside for someone, anyone?
He shivered, less from the slowly dropping temperature and more from the terror of being rejected yet again.
There was a huff from his nostrils, warm breath so at odds with the chill that Camdis felt in his chest.
Where could he go if the Court that he already loved so dearly pushed him away? Where could he go when he could no longer fit into his own skin?
@RandomEvents @Random Events @'RandomEvents' lmao nothign is working @Random Events
Posted by: Oz - 07-09-2017, 05:29 AM - Forum: Archives
- Replies (3)
THERE IS A HEDGE MAZE HERE, IT'S SHAPED
STRANGE AND GRAZED
ANGRY, THICK
WITH ROILING, EXOTIC TINTS THAT DON'T QUITE EXIST ANYMORE (OR WANT TO YET.) AND I'M WONDERING- WHY, WHAT THE
HELL'S
HELL'S
HELL'S
HELL'S
HELL'S HAPPENING HERE
?
IT'S STARTING TO SLINK, AND SLITHER GROSSLY, WITH TEMPTING, SILENT PROPOSITION. . .
A THRUST OF FATE,
INTO THE THORNS GRAPPLING THOSE DOORS AND WATCHING WRETCHED ME
SO AGGRESSIVELY; WRENCHING IT INTO PIECES FREE, WORKING FINGERS INSIDE A HEAD FAR TOO DUSTY (MINE,) MAKING ME PONDER SOFT WHAT'S HAPPENING, WHAT I'M DOING STANDING ENRAPTURED, AND STOCK STILL.
THE PLACE'S IRON HEAVY: A WHOLE TEMPTATION OF SLEEPY GANJA GREEN DECORATED BY SHAPES MYSTERIOUS, AND CURIOSITY. THE NATURE OF THE PRETTY LANDSCAPE REEKS ILL TO ME,
AND THE PLUMP, INVITING LABYRINTH'S ENTRANCE LOOKS AS PARASITIC MOUTHS WANTING DESPERATE TO FEAST, SNAGGLE-TOOTHED AND UTTERLY DANGEROUS. I DO NOT FEEL SAFE, NO, NOT AT ALL:
She was lost again. This is why she didn’t explore places alone – she got lost and when you were lost, it was easier for the bad things to eat you. Nervously, she fidgeted, hiding in the trees, button eyes wide and searching for any sign of danger. It was bright and warm, the sun at its highest point, so there was truly little danger of a predator, but in her mind…it didn’t matter. Something was stalking her. It was always stalking her. In the human world, it would be called “paranoia,” and she would be heavily medicated, but alas – we have no such things here in this world. Instead of being medicated, she whipped her neck to and fro, ears twitching constantly, searching for the next foot-fall, the next snapping twig, the soft growl or licking of fangs. She fidgeted a little more, prancing in place, tail flipping to and fro. She was not a fighter. She never had been. Hell, when the diseased dragon appeared and wanted to kill everyone, she wanted to save it! She was not made for fighting. She was a lover – and not even really that. She had loved him, and only him; but he never knew. Another sound behind her (probably a pinecone falling from a pine tree) sent her nerves into a frenzy, and she bolted from the trees, a guttural, fearful sound bubbling up from her throat. She had no knowledge of where she was going, or where she might be. All she knew was that something was behind her, salivating and nipping at her heels, seeking out her Achilles tendons so it could then fall upon her exposed throat, killing her with its giant fangs. She gave a squeal as the imaginary creature (damn pinecone) neared, and she ran headlong, button eyes not seeing clearly, senses working overtime. Finally, she collided headlong into…something. It was hard enough to stop her flight, but soft enough to not kill her. She struck and then fell sideways, landing on her knees, her rump quickly following suit, sending her rolling once…twice…and almost a third time before she stilled, lying dazed on the earth. She knew that whatever was chasing her was going to pounce any moment, but she couldn’t move. The earth was spinning, and her breath was coming in ragged gasps. What had she hit? She strained to see what it was, and thought she saw another body. She gave another squeal – this time, one of surprise. Had she hurt whomever she ran into? She hoped not! She had to warn them that there was something about to eat them both! Struggling to both breathe and move, she strained until she rose unsteadily to her feet. You would think that for one who was built for endurance, a run through the trees wouldn’t affect her so much, but apparently, she was out of practice. Wobbling toward the body she struck, she searched desperately for the monster. There had to be one…it was breathing down her neck only a moment ago! ”I…was…being…chased…!” The words came slowly, in short bursts as she struggled to slow her breathing. What felt like months later, her breathing came slower, easier, and she was able to speak more clearly. ”It was right there! Behind me!” Searching the deep holes her hooves had made, she realized there were no other prints – no predatory tracks, no extra hooves…there was nothing. IF she could have blushed, she would have been red as an apple by now. ”I’m so sorry…did I hurt you? You aren’t going to kill me are you?” She ducked her head and glanced up behind hooded eyes. She figured that she had probably hurt this other, and they were going to punish her with death. Oh, she hoped not! But… what if? ”Speech”
Like a wraith he arrived at the base of the mountains, a bundle of blazing star and rosinweed held tenderly between his black velveteen lips. The scent of woodsmoke and jasmine followed him, lingering lovingly within the fat ebony curls surrounding his rugged face and spreading elegant fingers throughout his mahogany skin. Reichenbach placed the dainty collection at his feet, silver eyes studying the vast mountains with a wild, ill-contained joy - this was his home, as was all of Denocte, it's wild and oftentimes savage beauty akin to his own chaotic heart. Though he didn't often linger in the mountains (most times he travelled through on his way to Veneror Peak or to the rest of Novus) he had found that he delighted in camping at their base.
Today, however, he had been simply bringing the flowers to dry in a nearby overhang, where he would collect them in a weeks time on his way to the temple. Reichenbach had never really considered himself a devout man - his was a devotion lived through the fullness of life, the bright, endless vitality that followed him and filled his great heart. Yet he had always managed to find time to drop off small sacrifices for their patron Goddess, delighting in the treacherous journey up Veneror and enjoying the time spent in the wilderness. He considered the mountains in all their glory, eyeing the passage through which everyone had to travel if they wished to enter Denocte - as Sovereign he would need to organise a watch for the path, someone or multiple someones to ensure no danger or harm befell the citizens of the Night Court.
A pleased expression crossed his rough cut face at his new position - who would have thought royalty would sit well on a gypsies shoulders? For he was wildness and starfall, a forest fire, a hurricane, he loved fiercely and without restrictions - and perhaps this was why he had been chosen as the Sovereign of the Night Court. He had been chosen for the ferocious love and dedication to his land and his people, the wild laughter that could be heard booming throughout the Court, even the sweetness with which he treated his gang of orphans.
'Look to the east past the caltrops and pikes, as far as your eyes can see. The mountains we watch are clothed in blood! WHY then are they naked?'
The commander could still recall that speech and how boldly he had spoken, the conviction in his voice and anger within his eyes. It had not been his first nor his last words to his men and like many other orders of wisdom they were words rattled through burnt lungs, his knees sucked deep in a cocktail of mud, blood and entrails. That was the way of his world, or so it had been. Each day had been the last of a number of his brothers and he had made countless speeches and calls to arms in his career as commander, so why did these words in particular ring out?
As he stood upon the crumbling battlements of the capitol Maxence had fallen out of reflection as quickly as he had found himself in it, casting his mind away from the memory of his bloodsoaked, blue-striped brethren. For a minds eye as sharp as his own, to gaze upon something like that was more painful than a kick to the groin.
He had come to the Day Court on other business though - a second attempt at rallying the courts inhabitants would be vital if they were to ever succeed in uniting this sorry land, and he did feel that some time for the members to reflect was all the needed. Truly, he was far from talented when it came to finding words for such speeches and it was obvious his first booming echoes across Solterra had been somewhat sub-parr, though still he hoped to Solis that they had at least taken his words' meaning home alone with them that night and pondered.
They truly did not wish to stay this way forever did they? Their numbers small, no community, no goals, no ambition or purpose? It was the opposite of a court, if anything it was a barren land where these nomads had roosted in travel. Why not make it a home? A hub? A barracks? A castle.
It was then as his glitening eyes cast once more over the unforgiving landscape that he reached for one final breath and the energy needed to call for the court and its entire populace. He began with the breath, heaving it in before he exhaled with a great roaring nicker, the kind that resonated over the dunes and bounded off the canyon walls. It was soon followed by a clearer but softer call, this time in the shape of words. "We have reflected! The time has come to hold council!"
THIS IS NOT A COMPULSORY MEETING, BUT IF YOU WISH TO BE CONSIDERED FOR A WARDEN/CHAMPION/REGIME POSITION PLEASE ATTEND.
Because Maxence won the sovereign OOC contest, we now have to put this into play ICly - So just in case you haven't been following the plans in the Day Court chat here's how this is gonna work!
THIS THREAD - We will essentially have a council meeting with the court, just with a predetermined outcome (1. that they should unite and 2. that they should chose a leader by means of trial by combat). Because the courts ideals center around battle and strength, all those who deem themselves worthy to be leader will proceed to the hunt.
NEXT THREAD - Set the morning after this meeting, the trial by combat begins at sundown and those who nominated themselves will proceed to hunt the Elder Teryr, a ferocious beast among the largest in Novus. The last left standing and the slayer of the beast has by Solis's blessing or by his own strength triumphed, thus has the right to become sovereign of Solterra. (Because Maxence won the competition, this will be Maxence... I feel bad for saying that? lmfao)
NOTE! based on how your character behaved during the last meeting, this thread and the upcoming hunt thread will determine ranked positions. Obviously Maxence isn't going to chose someone he doesn't like. NOTE! You have until the 12th to reply before the next round begins.
Rumors of a Shaman who’d had the luck to find the relic of Tempus had drawn the mare to Ruris; her intent, of course, had been to venture to the Abigo Caves to find this Shaman to see if they might be opening to bargaining for the relic, or to, at the very least, make sure that they had no intent to use it against the denizens of the Day Court. Before she could arrive in the caves, however, Seraphina found herself standing in front of a massive maze of hedges that were most definitely not there the last time she’d visited. Dappled starlight danced along her frame as she paced back and forth at the entrance to the maze, brow furrowed in something of an internal debate. Nothing that was less than godly could manage this sort of a feat, she imagined, so the shaman – and the accompanying relic – was likely somewhere within the maze, or on the other side of it, and she was duty-bound to find out what the shaman intended to do with the relic. However, the maze could very easily be a death trap, designed to keep out anyone else who might be in search of the relic. She couldn’t blame the Shaman, if the intent was to keep others away from their prize – Seraphina had stumbled upon various other travelers who sought the relic for their own purposes, and she imagined that some of them would be happy to shed blood for a chance to satisfy their wishes. As for Seraphina…the thought of the others and their wishes made her feel a muted pang of guilt for even standing in front of the maze. Some of them seemed to genuinely need a miracle to complete themselves, some godly intervention to satisfy some desperate want. Seraphina had sought the relic because she felt like she was supposed to, because it was supposed to be her job. She didn’t remember what it felt like to want anything, or, more accurately, she didn’t really want anything at all. There was a strength in trying to better oneself, to grow…she wasn’t sure if obtaining an object that would, if rumors were to be believed, grant your wishes actually qualified as that much personal development, but she supposed that it was better than waiting for life to happen, which was most definitely what she was doing. At least they were trying. At least they had a reason.
(She supposed that not having a reason did, at the very least, give her less misgivings about entering the ominous, gaping halls of the bramble-covered maze that might very well be a trap designed to kill unwary travelers in the middle of the night.)
She paused in front of the entrance, tail lashing and mismatched eyes staring into the darkness without seeing anything. Seraphina had the stars to guide her, if that was any consolation in quarters that were likely so cramped and twisting. (She doubted that they would make much of a difference.) Dragging her tongue along the tips of her teeth, she stepped into the darkness of the maze without another glance at the world she was leaving behind, breaking into an uneasy hum – some tune or another that Viceroy had taught her. (She could barely remember the words to the song.) Reasonably, she had telekinesis, and more hair than she knew what to do with; if she tied a few strands at each turn, she probably wouldn’t get lost, right?
The low hum of the wind brushing through the thick, desaturated strands of dry grass that blanketed the Eluetheria Plain in brilliant gold during the day was the only sound that occupied the hazy silence of midnight; on occasion, she heard the beat of quick little wings as a bird or a bat passed overhead, a tiny speck of black that looped and twirled against a starlit sky, or the rustle of some small, unseen creature passing alongside her in the grasses, brushing against the brittle, choppy grasses on their way back to their burrows, or out to hunt for other nightfarers. The air was hot and muggy and wet, oversaturated and ready to break. Seraphina expected that the Plain would experience a rather lengthy shower come tomorrow afternoon, perhaps a bit of creeping mist on the small streams and ponds that dotted the flat, featureless landscape – scarcely disturbed by a substantial tree or stone. It was a different sort of heat and a different sort of solitude and a different sort of heat from what she was accustomed to, though. Solterra was dry and empty. Eluetheria was full – overflowing with life, a dam about to burst – and wet. The heat was sticky here, though not unpleasant; nor was it unpleasant to be surrounded by living things, rather than endless sand and skeletons. For all her love (was it that?) for her desert homelands, Seraphina was so preoccupied with her work that she never felt very relaxed whilst wandering the sands. Though she’d been trained to find potential threats wherever she went, she found it much easier to relax and breathe on those relatively rare occasions she fled the sands. This was one such occasion. Her mane, otherwise kept perpetually in a half-braid, hung loosely at the side of her neck, lengthy forelock tumbling down her muzzle. The combat she wore like a second skin was, for the time being, peeled away.
Glittering golden lights danced alongside her, stretched out in midair as far as the eye could see. Fireflies. Occasionally one would light on her silver coat, a small dollop of sunlight that clung to her skin before, with the tiniest twitch, it was gone again. For her part, Seraphina was looking up. Her mismatched eyes scrawled along the star-filled sky, seeking out the familiar shapes of constellations and celestial bodies – in the desert, they were the best and simplest form of navigation, and she’d been subject to rigorous lessons on their particular designs throughout the year as a foal. She traced Solis – strange that the God of Day would find his likeness in the night sky, wasn’t it? – and Caligo, Vespera and Oriens, Tempus - and then Fiens, the greatest of the sandwyrms, and Malora, the huntress who slayed him, the beautiful and deadly Princess Isrif, the great sage Koriell and his bird of a thousand colors, Nicte…they felt like old friends, even in foreign lands. Almost unconsciously, she found herself stirred to break the silence, and, with a sharp inhale, broke into soft song. Seraphina did not know the words to most of the songs that she sung, in truth; if she were asked, she would not be able to tell you what they meant or how they were written. Music was another hand-me-down from Viceroy, but her tongue and lips closed around his foreign words with all the familiarity one might expect of a native. The particular tune that escaped her lips was a quiet, lilting one, soothing in its gentle inflections. She could vaguely remember him singing it to her some nights when she was very young, ushering her into a troubled sleep. (His singing always felt like an apology.) She fell into tune with the gentle breeze and kept her eyes to the stars, content to serve as a perch for fireflies or a feature of the landscape and grateful from the reprieve from the thoughts and duties of the day.
The air was thick today, the humidity high. One of the first signs that the season of winter was long gone, heralding that soon days would come when the sun beat down upon ones back, and the mere heat of the average day was enough to bring one to their knees with the desire for midday slumber. It would be even worse in these lands which the young stallion now found himself estranged within, for the murky waters would raise the humidity above even it's current levels, and the man had the foresight to know that if he should find himself here in such temperatures, he would hardly be surprised to find mixtures of condensation and sweat dripping from his name every now and then. Not to mention that the purification of detritus would increase exponentially, giving a cloying property to the smell that may hang here soon.
But that was then and this was now, and now, the only complaint to be found was the humidity. It was warm, yes, but far from uncomfortable. It helped that the night before had held a chill to it, lowering the temperatures of the swamps waters and making them almost refreshing in their coolness with hpthe coming of the sun. Each step gave a soft squelch, alongside a dim splash as he trudged through the stagnant waters, having long since given up on finding a dry path through this land. His limbs were growing heavy from the clinging mud, the long hairs wrapping around the sticky substance and soon almost cementing it to his form.
Yet the mud was soft and not too terribly thick, and a simpler part of the small man's mind actually enjoyed the sensation, the cool substance squelching up and around his hooves and limbs with every step, offering soft ground to grid upon. Granted, while each step was soft, raising ones limb provided a bit more of a challenge, a soft popping sound accompanying each instance he successfully pried one of his hooves from the water, to say nothing of the disturbances his movements caused in the water. He may have been pulling with a bit more force than was strictly necessary, not liking the sensation of being stuck, making his walk clumsier than it could have otherwise been.
But, it wasn't as though there was another to watch his struggles, yes? So it didn't matter to any but him in the end. Observant beasts that resided here may have noticed how ears perked up, rotating as if listening for something, to say nothing of the copper eyes that warily flicked about the eerily still land, watching. Looking to see what may lay in the shadows.
The fact of the matter is that he was lost, there was no other way to put it. He had fled the meadows of his foalhood, leaving their peaceful flowers in the hopes of leaving the shadows there as well. He had known from the start that his efforts would bear no fruit, but logically knowing the outcome didn't stop the trembling in his muscles of the twitching in his flanks and shoulders that was like an itch, one with tendrils that reached down into his heart and caused it to flutter with distress.
Run,
They whispered.
Run and perhaps you can escape.
He did not escape, but he did lose some of that nervous energy that made his shoulders tingle as though there were flies brushing against him, so it brought some mild relief in that.
Small mercies.
Tuthfully, he had not even the faintest clue where he was, or what borders he was within. He hardly knew of the courts at all, only the very basics. He knew not what borders he had grown up within, for his nomadic parents had brought him from place to place on a quite frequent basis, although they always returned to the meadows. They traveled so much the man could barely remember having seen the same face twice, and in time they had all grown to be blurs. He supposed that technically, he belonged to whatever court his parents hailed from, but they had seemed reluctant to discuss such things, and left him with a lack of knowledge of where to call home.
Perhaps it is better that way, you cannot be chased from a home you do not have. No need to fear another tracking down where you rest your head and breaking your bones in your slumber.
Of course, that does not exempt you from the blows of those who frown upon your mere presence within their lands.
But would others truly kill one who was only lost? Simply for not knowing where he set his hooves due to sheer ignorance?
You? Who could pass up the opportunity.
He couldn't refute the logic.
Nevertheless, the man soon found himself pried from his worried thoughts, lip finally freed from his unconscious nibbling. Before him lay what appeared to be a rise in the ground, a section of Earth and stone that rested above the water level, and while not as bereft of water as the desert, so much drier than any other resting spot in the vicinity.
And the small stallion was suddenly all too aware of the whimpering ache of his muscles from the difficult walk through sucking mud, and he couldn't deny the flame of eagerness that momentarily renewed his strength as he pushed forwards with a mighty heave. A rest seemed wonderful, and in this place, who knew when the next time came that he would find such a place? He had already been uncomfortable enough after the previous night, where he found himself forced to sleep in shallow water, unable to find dry land before he could go no further. Mud was still encrusted in his mane.
Nonetheless, the man sighed with relief as he hauled himself free of the water and mud, taking a moment to shake and wipe as much of it as he could from hocks along the edge of the rise, trying to cleanse himself at least a little. Task completed, or as completed as he was going to get, the man's hooves pressed upon the skills he walked forwards, looking for the area most bereft of stone to perhaps allow him a quick nap. After all, he needed to renergize if he wanted to brave the clingy earth that rested beneath the swamp's waters.
@Rannveig
OOC: Auru was born in Delumine not that that's relevant to anything nor as though he knows that fact. First post is a go, whoop! Hopefully it's not too awkward despite being written on mobile, I may have missed some autocorrect or lack there of while writing. xD
Also, this is technically open to any other members of Dusk who may wish to drop by, but it's at least involving Auru and Rannveig.
![[Image: reichtable_by_arrakis93-dbf9uhl.png]](http://orig06.deviantart.net/9d70/f/2017/187/a/0/reichtable_by_arrakis93-dbf9uhl.png)
