Pan needed a home. Home had been such a fleeting thing for some time now, and his travel was beginning to make him weary. Loneliness had been his only companion for the past several weeks, and as he stared at his reflection in the happily babbling river, Pan couldn’t help but feel a pang of sadness. He watched as his face rippled beneath the surface, and tried to smile at the boy who stared back at him, almost fighting to encourage himself to keep going… but it was still a lot to take. Looking behind him, he caught a quick flash of brown fur, his heart leaping toward the thought that perhaps Oliver had found his way here.
”Oliver!”
His quiet whisper was enough to cause the furry creature to turn and stare at the boy, but instead of his familiar companion, he found a groundhog staring back. With a sigh, he turned away, following the river deeper and deeper into the Dawn Court. It wasn’t a place he knew, and yet there was a strange sort of calling that brought him through the forest and toward the meadow opening. The scenery here was lovely – enough to raise even his most deflated mood, and he willed a smile as he stepped into the dappled sunlight and into the meadow.
Behind him, the river continued to babble on, and the sound of water was a comfort. Birdsong filled the air here too, great stately oaks and pines swaying in the breeze and providing them shelter from the bright sun. In the grass, he finds a cheerfully hopping rabbit, a quiet and regal stag, and watches for several moments as a family of quail totter one behind another through the tall grass. It was enough… for now, it was enough to give his restless heart a place to rest. And with a sigh, the green colt lowered himself into the mountain meadow, dozing peacefully beside the river in this place that would become the home he so desired.
JUST LIKE FIRE, BURNING OUT THE WAY
IF I CAN LIGHT THE WORLD UP FOR
JUST ONE DAY WATCH THIS MADNESS
COLORFUL CHARADE NO ONE CAN
BE JUST LIKE ME ANYWAY
With a soft, sweeping noise, the wings of the dark dove retract from their outspread position and back toward her sleek carcass. The setting sun illuminates her with reds, oranges, yellows that make her ebony hide much more colorful than it might normally be. She turns soft, velvet lips to preen the feathers of her left wing, returning them to their rightful place and removing those loose ones that no longer belong. She turns her crown then toward the sea and takes confident steps toward the edge of the cliff.
Standing on the edge she feels no fear of the drop. Perhaps that is just her own confidence in her flight. The sea is calm, still even as the tides change. Night is coming, and the sun is nearing the horizon. No one is around - at least within sight or hearing distance. How dull. She thought, still staring out at the sea. The dame turned east and began walking along the edge of the cliffs. Ah, Terrastella, the land of dusk. How poetic that that is when I choose to visit. She wondered that no one seemed to notice her flight over the land, no one had challenged her. What a sad ruler that had nothing to say about strangers traipsing all the way through!
But perhaps one will come still.. after all, she had just landed. Inkheart stomps the ground with a dark hoof, scattering dust around her. A toss of her long locks as she made herself a little more comfortable. Gold eyes peer back inland. She is interested in what might be going on in Terrastella these days, and is hoping that someone will take notice of her arrival.
The swamp was dark – the kind of dark the haunted the corners of nightmares, hiding creatures of the night behind a veiled shadow of mystery… but it was the mystery and not the nightmare that drew the boy out. He padded in an uncharacteristically quiet manner through the brackish water, peeking around mangroves with wide eyes and a boyish grin, looking for fireflies. Nevermind that if he actually found one, he wouldn’t know what to do with it, but he enjoyed the way they blinked like tiny stars around him, and sighed quietly in the dusky night, pleased at his latest adventure.
Bullfrogs began to add to the whisper of the wind through cat tails, and as the land grew darker still, the scaled colt decided to head for higher ground. After all, he remembered a place like this in Neverland… and remembered it was a place that the Crocodile had called home. While the toothy reptile had never really caused him much headache, it had proven quite a nuisance to the pirates. Good riddance, if you asked the boy.
When his feet hit marshy ground, he shlogged through a bit of mud, stopping once he reached a grassy clearing to roll among the emerald shoots. The motion felt good, and the stronger he rolled, the more that the ground cover wedged between his scales. It didn’t bother him much though, and settling on the soft bed of grass, he rolled onto his back to watch the stars pass by overhead.
It was here that the keepers of the Dusk Kingdom would find him, sleeping belly to the open sky, as his chest rises and falls in sleep. It was a vulnerable position, to be certain, but one that is quintessential Pan – nothing to fear, and not a care in the world.
The ocean swelled along the horizon, washing against pebbly sand worn smooth by the tide, and roaring where it hit the rocks. It was quiet at dawn, with the sun just peeking over the horizon, painting the sky with pastel streaks of pink and gold. The only life seemed to be a small cluster of sea lions gathering on the rocky cliffs, barking quietly at the small red crabs that scurried sideways along the water’s edge. And, of course, there was the green scaled boy.
He was never quiet. Instead, Pan was humming as he walked along the morning shoreline, digging in the sand to unearth small sand crabs and giggling as they scurried away from his prying lips. He gathered pieces of green and blue sea glass, worn smooth from the tumbling tides, and shards of broken seashells between his teeth, placing them gently in a well-loved leather satchel as he went.
You would think that the child stallion would walk in a straight line, but instead, the tracks he left in the sand told a different tale. First, he’d wander just past the breaking surf, letting the salty water wash against his legs. Then, he’d dance away from the water, get distracted by a shiny object, and circle back once more. What should have been pristine white sand was littered with his footprints, but it didn’t bother the child. Instead, he simply let his curiosity roam.
He was somewhere new… alone, but letting his imagination comfort him. Rook had left him. Florentine had disappeared… even Oliver, his constant companion, seemed to have gone somewhere. So, Pan had done the only thing he knew to do, he followed the Rift tide to another world. But this time, he got stuck. It was a funny thing, he supposed, that time could be so unpredictable. Yet he was making the best of his detour, exploring the strange new land with a cautious sort of optimism.
Turning to blink against the sun, the colt smiled at a shadow on the horizon – small at first, but growing larger. His heart leaped, curious about who was approaching, but excited at the prospect of a new friend. Hello! he cried out over the sound of the sea lions. I’m Pan! And he waited until the stranger grew closer, with an expectant smile on his face.
JUST LIKE FIRE, BURNING OUT THE WAY
IF I CAN LIGHT THE WORLD UP FOR
JUST ONE DAY WATCH THIS MADNESS
COLORFUL CHARADE NO ONE CAN
BE JUST LIKE ME ANYWAY
Stout but refined hooves tread upon hot sand. The particles drift and subside to make room for the black and gold paws that make their way toward -- nowhere in particular. The sun beats down on her dark back, making her ebony tresses shine in the light, and the golden highlights dazzle to a shimmering glow. Feathered appendages splay out from her bodice, stretching and warming in the rays. She's a dark object in a sea of light. The glowing light on her chest is radiant, the sun intensifying it until it is blinding to those who look at it straight on. Her gold orbs sheltered, shadowed by dark lids and lashes.
That's the beautiful specimen that crosses the desert. She comes like an innocent child, lost in the wilderness looking for a home. But there's so much more. There's so much beneath the surface, that she chooses to keep hidden. Her mission is simple, but she does not trumpet it to the world. They will know her name in time, they will know the game that she plays. No one can escape the justice and - if need be, terror - that she will reign down on the world.
Eventually someone will find her. Someone will greet her or try to stop her from entering. That's what happens, right? Someone patrols borders, makes rules. There's the chit chat and small talk that accompanies the meeting of strangers. But she's ready for it, for it is necessary. She's a sweet lass at first glance and can play the game as it suits her needs. Yes, come dears and begin the dance.
There was a butterfly, adorned with bruised blues, burnt oranges and snowy whites, perched upon a leaf. Its slow, beating wings were blinking eyes opening and closing to a world of kaleidoscope colour.
Florentine watched the creature and her heart ached. A ghost fluttered in her mind; a butterfly, in every way akin to the one she now watched, except for their patterns.
And one other key element: this butterfly was not bound to her.
Her heart gave a painful throb, a strain against its cage of bone. Flora gasped as homesickness struck leaving her lungs winded with its ferocity. It was not often that the girl as untamable as the wind, would have such longing to remain in one place. But now, oh now her heart aches to be back in her birth land. Where her Flutterby-butterfly would rest upon her spine with its whisper touch.
Determined, she swallowed down the heat of desire, the urge to pick up her dagger and slice through worlds and find her way home. Again, the blade failed to awaken its magic when roused by its wielder’s thoughts. And again, Flora did not register the continued cold of her dagger, its subtle magic stripped and absent.
The butterfly, disconcerted with the attention of such a large creature, spread its glorious wings flat, a warning – a deterrent. It only made Flora’s heart ache harder – an open wound to bleed, to awaken her at night.
Florentine will still be staring at this small and fragile beast when a stranger finds her. And a tear, a solitary and lonely little thing, will be wiped away with a huff that ruffles the butterfly’s wings and sets it off to find a less disturbed leaf upon which to rest. “You scared it off,” The girl of flowers will quite wrongly, and rather rudely, accuse the stranger. It may set them to think less of her, if not for that small, tremulous waver in her voice.
The Dusk Court citadel loomed imposingly before him much as Delumine's capitol did, every bit as ominous in its unspoken cultural gravity as it was lovely to behold. Entombed within its stones were the spirits, voices, and intrigues of all that had come before. He could almost imagine he heard them, if he but turned his ear just right to the wind.
Martin of all individuals knew that finding the answers you seek sometimes requires a significant investment of time and energy, and is not without its risks. He'd never been frightened away by the cost and, once set on a path, he was particularly difficult to dissuade from it. Thus it was that he had traveled South from the questions raised beneath the Dawn Court's shadow, across Amare Creek, and into a land that felt somehow more alien to his heart. While undoubtedly lush with natural beauty and intrigue, it lacked the draw that had called him to Delumine. This southern territory was not "home"; the more cautious and insular edges of his personality grumbled their protests in his mind.
Not without cause, of course. Martin had no way of knowing that his intrusion would not be met with open hostility - only the desperately optimistic hope that his honest desire for understanding would win out over any preconceptions that he was an enemy.
The golden unicorn approached the Court's ancient parapets, donning his fearless wonder as armor as he went to battle against his own damnable ignorance.
The spring season giving way and bending beneath the weight of the impending summer let the days slip into each other, longer and more unbearable for her. She grew uneasy as the year departed from her Winter Court season where she'd spent her life; but she was built to withstand and so instead of remaining locked away in the Dusk Court tower, while she mulled over the limited options she had while she wallowed, she moved outside of her Court's territories and toward a place she often went to ponder other things. The day was well on its way to becoming night, and she felt secure enough in her position (a certain trust placed in her own abilities to defend) to travel alone as she carried the weight of an entire court upon her shoulders.
The Plains opened up before her as she crossed into the waving grasses, nothing but the soft murmur of a welcome on their lips. She took the opportunity of a quiet world to steal away with her own thoughts and musings. There was no word on the standings of the other courts, but the wind told her of a change soon to be happening--she needed to prepare, she needed to gather those beneath Vespera's gaze to build a land that could withstand.
In that moment, though, amid the sea of earth, she gave herself over to the wills of the plains and stood solitary against the disappearing light. Dusk held her in its arms just as she held the court in hers; the pinks and purples in the sky kissed her goodbye.
And all our problems make us powerless
eep sorry bby i had a sudden strike of muse for them!! <33
@lothaire
Came the call from across the lush green grass between the Court and the lake. It was a veritable display of all Denocte had to offer - a wild carnival of music, dancing, drinking and art that had drawn Reichenbach in like a moth to a flame. The night sky burned like wildfire, a sea of stars that burned with a distinct ferocity burnishing the event down below and catching in the crook of Reich's broad grin. Sovereign. The word, the title... he hadn't thought it would fit until he had carved it into his heart for the desire of it. They had come to a decision, the whole court, after seeing the subtle signs of change beginning in the Day Court - they had a new Sovereign, albeit one of strict military performance, why not Denocte? It had been so long since Rhen had vanished that the idea was instantly agreed upon, and the members of his court had begun to vote. Who knew what had made them vote for him - the orphan boy whom had arrived with little more than dreams clenched in his bruised fist.
Perhaps it was that Reichenbach knew almost all of the court by name - making a point to remember small details such as family members names or recalling their favourite kind of drink. In fact, Reich had unknowingly monitored the happenings of Denocte for as long as he could remember. Or maybe it had something to do with his dedication to their deity, Calligo, taking his own offerings to lay at her temple once a month, for the prosperity of Denocte and the safety of its citizens. It could have simply been because Reichenbach was one of them - loud mouthed, honey throated and wild. His wide grin as he celebrated with all of them was honest, genuine, overjoyed... perhaps a little glazed and wild.
This certainly wasn't Solterra, with it's military regime and strict rules - but Denocte had never been like the other courts. Theirs was a court made for the dreamers, the outcasts and the wild at heart. It thrummed with life, vibrant, it's song both clamouring and calm, a steady hum of beauty that Reich wouldn't have given up for the world. Theirs was a wild life, but a good one.
"To Denocte and The Night Court!" he toasted, his deep rumble of laughter heard even over the thrum of music.
Perhaps... perhaps it was because he was so easy to love, that wild thing bursting with life and song, enchanting and inescapable.
Open to all!! Come meet your new Sovereign xx
@Lothaire @Noxia @Camdis -- just tagging the few he has already met!
If you want to say your character has a history with Reich / knows him at all, please do! Reichenbach takes pride in knowing the members of his court! ALSO all positions are currently open so if anyone is interested I would LOVE to hear your thoughts about where your characters will fit into the court! xx
The indigo twilight yields control to the brazen, sterling expression of the eternal and unflinching queen. With radiance and tenderness, she baptizes the countryside in tranquility. Irregular currents become tame…allowing the motionless water to pay tribute and reflect her flawless, unhindered fullness. Diamonds of countless number begin to fill the night sky, one after the other; their breathtaking, twinkling smiles guide our flawless nestling, our swallow, into a dream world that suits a child of privilege. Miette drifts sweetly on a cushioned bed of lichen; her crystalline irises, nearly always overflowing with curiosity and delight, have surrendered their fight. Excitable, contagious laughter is traded for calm silence. And having just overindulged her expanding midsection, it wasn’t likely that the newborn would stir anytime soon.
Wandering, restless attention is sent to rotate; softening beyond the protective elder willow arch we’d taken sheltered beneath. Temples narrow, fixed upon the lonely bank-side post he'd chose for a night-time perch. Mini me raps a symbolic finger against one winged shoulder, ‘go to him,’ she urges, brims curling into a knowing grin. My head tilts rearward, angling to convince the voices of maternal concern that our precious bundle wouldn’t vanish. Jaws unhitch, sucking upon the tit of that cool, moist air for reassurance. Forefeet move with deft purpose; ignoring how the gossamer canopy attempts to hinder me with its scratchy foliage.
There are conversations burning on the tip of my tongue – laboring, groaning as they await their moment to be born. But first (a muffled nicker drifts clear should he have missed the unpleasant squish of toes) his warning of my arrival comes just before these alabaster lips seek the plush, firm warmth of his threaded, muscular flank. They tease and entice the skin beneath his splashed, gilden coat -- eager to lure a favorable response, “bonsoir monsieur,” hushed notes whisper with mock innocence, while these meaty nostrils spread to dine upon thick, pulsing vibrancy. Fibers melt gladly into steel; drinking his masculine, chiseled perfection.
![[Image: UFckO5G.png]](http://i.imgur.com/UFckO5G.png)
