A ball, an event that could bring her from the safety of her home. And yet, all Syn wanted to do was hide in her bedroom where none could find her. Well… not none. Savannah had managed to find her. Shaking her head, she let herself rise from the silk sheets and move to her vanity.
Reclining on the padded bench, she began to fuss with glitters and pigments. Settling on colors that would bring out the acid hues of her eyes, she began coating her eyelids with rich purples. A spattering of silver glitter stars danced along the edges of her eyes and toward her throat. As she gazed in the mirror, her vivid eyes seemed to capture attention. "Perfection.." She murmured softly as she got to her hooves and danced to her closet.
Continuing with the purple theme, she found a sheer royal purple cloak that had delicate silver detailing. The whole garment screamed celestial, with tiny clear crystals acting like stars. With a smile, she found the mask that she had purchased for the event. It was similar to the one she had purchased for Sav, covering only half of her face. Where his had butterfly like detailing, hers continued with the night sky theme. Small cut out stars let her ebony pelt show through, almost like reversing the classic stars. Small amethyst stones had been embedded into the metal. That simple fact seemed to calm her nerves.
Amethyst, known for protection and calming the mind. The simple stone had become precious to her. A large amethyst crystal dangled from a silver chain, quickly fastened around her neck. Yes, she was eating up the purple theme, mostly as an excuse to wrap herself with the amethysts to help her get through this event. There was a chance that Caelum would be at the ball and she had yet to patch things up with the elder fae. A sigh escaped her lips as she turned back to the silken sheets that had welcomed her. With a frown, she quickly straightened her bed. Before she could let her nerves get the best of her, she left her home and took to the skies.
Nearly forgotten in the chaos of getting ready, the enchanted butterfly that had been a gift from Savannah tightened on a bunch of curls as the wind threatened to loosen it. That simple hair clip had meant the world to the fae mare, only taken off when she slept. For her, it was a sign that Sav was with her, even when he was busy. And that was something that she desperately needed. To know that someone cared enough about her to make her something so personal. To be there when she needed a shoulder to cry on, or a talking to that would make her mother look tame.
Arriving at the Dusk court, Syn let her hooves touch the ground and used the movement to straighten her cloak. The sheer purple fabric hid nothing of her frame from the eye, but still dressed her up and gave her hints of what her past had once been. A princess… Yet no longer. Now she was a hidden creature, a pest in the shadows. Shaking her head, she lifted it and pushed away the thoughts. She noticed Savannah, giggling softly as he looked uncomfortable. Yep, she was going to pay for this later… but yet that knowledge didn’t dampen her pleasure at seeing him out of his home.
Syn strode to the refreshments, taking a drink from the table and nodding greeting to those around. So much had happened recently and she found that the idea of a night of fun was a relief. Perhaps she could enjoy herself. Of course, that remained to be seen. Wandering through the crowd, she paused to greet Uzuri before continuing to find her way to a spot near the dance floor but out of the way.
Posted by: Asta - 05-19-2022, 05:20 PM - Forum: The Dusk Court
- No Replies
A s t a
do you believe in reinarnation?
'cause i thought i saw your soul
She should have been expecting this as soon as the Sovereign had announced the ball. Should have known her parents would use this as a means to try getting her on their right path. She stood in the middle of her old bedroom (she was keenly aware nothing from it had changed). In front of her was the same old mirror as her parents stood by the door, to supervise the process, and the servants of the home (sorry, staff - heaven forbid her parents are aware she refers to them as servants!) scurry around her to make her as presentable as possible. Her quiet gaze was settled on her reflection, emotionless as she watched the brush be dragged through her sunset mane. Another member of the staff was following it all up with curlers, encouraging each strand to be pulled out in soft bouncy locks, gushing over how lovely the style was coming together, how many eyes she would catch - how the betrothal contacts would be coming in. Those words washed over her like an icy river in winter. Chilling her to the bone.
She already knew that was her parents focus for tonight - to get her introduced out into society properly. To find a sucker of a stallion to marry her to, that they would be able to have some degree of influence over. So, she was a barbie doll to be dressed up to her parents specifications. Her tail was already done up in soft curls, left simple to highlight the natural beauty her parents treasured so much. Her own mane was being curled in the same soft way, while other pieces were braided and being slowly wound up in a bun where it was usually just pulled back. Small strings of gold where being dangled among those locks, matching the jewelry she had always worn, and would wear again today.
Bangles were slid over her ankles, jingling with each movement she made, while her normal shawl was traded for one in a similar design, but longer, with gold filigree designs embroidered at the ends. Ah, Lovely as always Asta. Do not worry, we shall make sure you are introduced to all the young gentlemen in the market for a wife. We intend to make sure you are wed and happily settled soon, my dear, as you promised. Her mother instructed in a gentle voice, and Asta silently nodded in understanding. It had been the agreement that kept her from being forced back into her parent's home. She'd agree to an arranged marriage, and they would offer their support to her endeavors in managing her bar, "My items, the ones I expressed from my room here - they will be transferred to my rooms above my shop while we are away - yes?" She inquires softly, to which her father nodded once, sharply, Yes, we gave your list to the staff, they will be taking care of it while we enjoy ourselves. You included a map of the desired layout? They'll have it set up and waiting when you return home. You have done well in these negotiations as well . . . your mother and I are rather proud of how well you've come to accepting your role with in the Stendahl House once more, Asta. You are my heiress, and I am proud to address you as such again.
Asta bowed her head in acknowledgement, but the rock in her belly sat heavier, knowing what her father really meant was to remind her of who she was, and the control he had. That it was his willingness to accept her requests that saw those 'negotiations' go so well. Both sides knew that she was at their mercy. As the staff stepped back, Asta dutifully followed her parents from the room, from the manor, a meek shadow, a treasure they were happy to display as they made way to the Court Rooms. No, not truly meek though. There was always an underlining fire in her gaze, there was always a certain rippling of muscles that spoke of how close she was to spiriting away. But she was also dignified, she held her honor in high regards, and she would abide by the promise given. And so she allowed herself to be paraded around, introduced to a variety of 'eligible gentleman from the proper families' and all the while, she offered beautiful, simpering smiles, and buried that desire to burn the entire place to the fucking ground.
Uzi may have issues if I burn the place down . . . . The ball was opened by such a mare, and Asta had to literally bite her tongue to ignore her father's whispered comment to her mother, Dreadfully shameful, a female in a solo place of power. Should be a man's job to run a kingdom - women are too soft for the trials that come with such daunting leadership, particularly our new . . . . Queen. Looks as dainty as a dahlia. The words were whispered so quietly, Asta knew no one else would have heard it, but it still irritated her. Sighing, she bowed her head to her father, "I find myself in need of refreshing. The numerous dances have wearied my nerves. Do you mind if I find a place to sip on a drink and relax? I'll be just over in the sitting area, I want travel father." Playing dutiful daughter again. But her father had caught sight of some of his friends, and waved her off with approval, and a reminder for her to be on her best behavior, Your future partner may be somewhere with in this event, after all; Asta.
She watched her father lead her mother off, before she shook off the perfect daughter look she'd been wearing, and instead allowed the weariness to creep back into her bones. Moving to the table of treats and drinks, she made herself a small plate, before grabbing a drink from the non-alcohol section of the table (perhaps the greatest proof of how disturbed her mind had been in recent days) and allowed herself to sink among the pillows, the food soon forgotten as she sipped on the drink, and counted down the minutes until she'd be free to go back to her bar, and crawl into bed and hide away from the world for a few more days.
"Speech" Thoughts
Open to any. Notes:
flashing and dancing on the horizon
shades of jade and emerald
t felt different walking through the familiar halls of the Citadel and no longer calling this place home. He had spent months here, growing accustomed to every turn and tucked away room. He knew all the scuff marks or the chips in the stone. He knew the window in the Sovereigns bedroom used to squeak every time it was opened. He used to know so much about this place, but now Bucky couldn’t help but feel something of an outsider as he stepped boldly towards the ever present music playing and beckoning him towards the throngs of patrons.
Retirement had done Liam well, Bucky had observed after the pair had slipped from the public eye to enjoy some of the quieter side of the Dusk Court. They had never left the lands, but had instead found themselves a comfortable adobe not far from the Citadel. In the weeks that had passed since the former Sovereign had stepped down, Bucky had noticed the quiet coming from those who might have once been family. There wasn’t a knock, or an inquiry. Not even a letter slipped under their door — not that he minded. Bucky thrived in the solitude this time had provided him, but he knew the same couldn’t be said for Liam.
So when news of these festivities reached them the older stallion had been the one to offer the suggestion. They could attend the ball together, and perhaps get a glimpse at those familiar faces.
Some hours before the ball was set to begin, Bucky had slipped away and offered to meet Liam there. He knew he wasn’t one for fineries and dressing up — and he certainly wasn’t about to wear a mask — but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to clean himself up. His mane and tail were properly groomed for once, the ties back strands now brushed out and loose. There was little he could do about the mangled mess of scars on his leg, but he’d managed to adorn himself with just a few golden jewelry in an attempt to shift the attention away from it.
Liam might have already been well acquainted with the old wound, but for tonight Bucky wanted to make sure that it wasn’t such a glaringly obvious thing. His movements were fluid as he weaved his way through the growing crowds, watching as pairs drifted off to occupy the dance floor. For now he would find himself a quiet corner, tucked away like usual and he would wait. Liam would find him — but the search was half the fun.
His gaze scanned some of the masked faces, noting perhaps a few that might have been familiar to him. Most, however, were dressed in some way and none entirely stood out to him.
Humming lowly to himself, Bucky settled his side against the wall as he smiled secretly. If Liam wanted a dance with him, then Liam was going to have to find him. He certainly wasn’t hidden, and unlike the others his face was completely bare. It’s almost as though he was making this easy for his lover.
The differences between the courts are staggering to Fever - the house of Vespera feels moist and soggy in the summer heat, the air here could suffocate you if you allow it - the climate is much different than the arid and dry chokehold of her home. In this cotton-candy atmosphere, where the twilight makes you sticky-sweet, and the stars are rivaled in their twinkling by a pestilence of fireflies, Fever arrives to a festival - a ball - that she honestly had no business to attend in the first place.
Yet, like the insects that made their home in this lush and lolling landscape, Fever was attracted to the warmth and lights of Dusk Court. Flocks of fancy patrons mingled in the courtyard and within the artful halls, dressed appropriately for such a grand and fine event; meanwhile, Fever was unaware of a dress code - although she did choose to certainly rise to the occasion.
She was adorned with her regular fittings - jewelry and piercings a gilded display of gold that Solis himself would approve - and her mother's sheer face mask. In addition, she donned a veil that matches: it is sheer black and glitters like subtle starlight, it spills over her entire head, allowing the tines on her neck to break through. She wears it to provide even further protection as she is aware of the amount of nobles who usually litter these kinds of parties.
Attached to the last ivory quill in her crown-like spread, is a strand of diminutive jewels that are diamond like in nature and fitted into gold brackets; they ride the curve of her spine and connect to the bracelets that are always wrapped around the dock of her tail.
Last, but not least, the wild lengths of her untamable tail have been intricately braided into three-strand twists, some of these braids adorned with gilded loc-clasps, and arranged in a large and complex bun. The hair that falls from her crest is braided in the same exotic fashion; while smelling of foreign spices that suggest tobacco and cardamom, this chai incense blend would give away her alien status to this court.
The music in the ballroom did not speak to Fever; usually she could not resist dancing as it was her second nature to display herself like a peacock, and yet, it felt stagnant while lovers and others smooched on their cheeks and spun around in circles. Besides, Fever knew better than to make a fool of herself in the midst of such exalted company - and heaven forbid, someone might recognize her from her days of servitude.
No thank you.
So instead, Fever sauntered to the balcony where a few spectators visited, admiring the skies, quietly speaking to one another. The mare stands with her back to the party, a look of unamusement on her obscured face as she wonders why she went through the trouble of attending.
Perhaps she was just always on the hunt for trouble.
Perhaps she had a fickle, fleeting hope that she would find her mother amongst the beautifully decorated ladies.
The morning had dawned clear and warm, a perfect day for a picnic in the fields. Crossing her room to the window, she threw it open and inhaled the fresh air. "Thank you Vespera for such a perfect day." She murmured. Heading back to her vanity, she made certain that there were no tangles in her mane and tail. It might be a moment of vanity, but she was also aware that her appearance would be judged since she was the newest sovereign for her beloved court.
As she wandered through the citadel, she checked on the dishes that would be coming from the kitchen and the final things that needed settled. Once she had sent the cooks on their way to the fields, she found Neema and started off on hoof. The maned wolf was bouncing through horses and structures, her permanent puppy attitude making the sovereign laugh softly.
Approaching the fields, Uzi was delighted to see that there were horses starting to arrive. On the edges of the meadow, lanterns were set up and ready to be lit when the sun went down. At the northern most edge, a large stage had been built for entertainers. Even she was to step hoof on that stage at least twice that day. She had determined that she would offer some of the history of her beloved court to the ears of those that might not have heard it yet. Before the stage was a large open area with medium sized bonfires on either side to be lit later as well.
In the center of the meadow, tables had been set out with many different foods and drinks for all to consume. Where there had been alcohol at the ball, Uzi had refused to allow any here. She wanted this to be inviting to all, even the foals that may accompany their parents. That was the biggest thing, she wanted to build the family that her court could be.
Once the fields were teeming with bodies, Uzi moved toward the stage. Neema had disappeared, playing in the grasses with one of the older foals. Stepping up, she took a deep breath and smiled out at those that were in attendance. "Welcome! This event is casual, a time to meet each other, eat, drink, dance, play. Vespera herself cares deeply for her court and this is a time to show that love to each other. As the day progresses, there will be various entertainers that will be invited to take the stage. As the sun sets and the fires are lit, I will come back up to tell some of the history of the court. Until then, please enjoy yourselves!!" She called over the crowd, her chocolate eyes molten as they took in those that she had pledged to love.
"Uzuri"
"Neema"
@— Notes: All welcome! Uzi is officially opening up the fields for the picnic. There are a variety of dishes and characters are more than welcome to bring something if they wish.
Credit: Character by Chaosy, Art by LizzArtStudios
It took her an incredibly long time and a great many back-and-forths to finally decide on what she would wear for the Dusk Ball. On one hand, Phoebe wanted to wear everything, to drape silks and veils and whole swaths of fabrics across her body in fanciful, alluring ways, to decorate each appendage with glittering jewels and silver metals, all in an array of colors that would compliment the natural orange, pink, and purple of her body. It was all just so tempting--especially as much of it was being loaned out to allow everyone the opportunity to dress up and participate--and she wanted to impress each new face she would see there. But at the end of the day--or rather, just before the ball--she decided simple was best. Why cover up the natural beauty of her body, her star-dappled sunset coloration that in itself would draw eyes as surely as any ball gown would?
Her attire was minimal as she clipped along to the courtyard, her steps bouncing and an excited, overeager grin brightening her already bright features. A slim swath of silken fabric, deep purple like an extension of her mane, draped across her right shoulder and trailed just slightly behind her right foreleg, enough for an understated dramatic effect but not so long as to become tangled in her feet when dancing. A thin silver chain appeared to hold it in place around the base of her neck, while hidden clips beneath the fabric carried much of the weight, keeping it firmly in place to prevent it slipping down her side. A swirling-patterned metal cuff encircled the base of her tail, a large crescent moon embossed across the top, while similar metal cuffs attached to the outward edges of her ears. They were cumbersome and heavy, but they looked much too pretty for her to leave them behind. There was no jewelry, exactly, but a few clear, crystal jewels had been placed at the corners of her eyes, and a larger, more dazzling one, placed in the center of her star.
A small, excited squeak escaped her as she came upon the festivities, all the guests milling about either standing or lounging in casual discussion, drinks and food at the ready throughout, delightful music coasting along in the background, while dancers swayed somewhere beyond the crowd. The sight stopped Phoebe in her tracks as a thrill raced through her body, full of anticipation. She was actually attending a ball!
Taking in a breath, straightening her posture, trying to look every bit the dashing princess she hoped she presented to the world in that moment, Phoebe walked straight into the madness, her magenta eyes never settling on one person or decoration for too long. Eyes caught were greeted with polite, excitable nods, a few words of greeting for those few chatty enough to engage her, but there was a clear direction to the path she cut through the party-goers, a discernible determination in her eyes as they caught sight of the dancers just out of range. She felt her heart lift as she neared them, already scouting out possible openings or available partners, depending on the song. The first opportunity she got to join them, she would!
The mare moved around the courtyard slowly, hooves clicking rhythmically, as she felt herself relaxing. Around her, others were dancing, and talking and just having a good time, and it brought a smile to the fae's muzzle. Tiana swirled around her, the red glow usually in her pendant now surrounding the spirit as she kept the fae company. It was a lovely ball, even Caelum would admit to that, and she had been more than impressed by the variety of outfits at the masquerade. Her own outfit of sheer, iridescent fabric draping around her body had been admired, matching the sheer iridescent fabric veiling her face. Both pieces of cloth held in place by delicately intertwining silver chains that stood out against the blue roan of her body, diamonds and iridescent opals shining from fastenings through out the delicate jewelry that hung against her face as a headdress, around her neck in a collar formation, and twirling around the loose strands of her tail. Matching with the flowers growing among those ivory tresses, shedding pastel flower petals as she moved, matching the flowers that grew from her steps, Caelum looked more the part of a Summer Fae than she had in a long time.
The mare gently excused herself from some familiar faces who were delighted to greet her and tell her how lovely she looked, apologizing and explaining the need for a drink as Tiana's voice giggled with in her mind, I always forget how popular you are until we're out in public. For a mere doctor, and tea-shop owner, you are well liked in many courts. Caelum laughed softly, her voice pitching softer for Tiana alone, "I was always the People's Princess. I suppose I cannot help but to be kind to all. I enjoy spending time with everyone and getting to know about the others. It is not hard for such attention to transpire into affection and desire to see them living their best lives and inquiring over their well being. My parents certainly raised me to care for our people - I just took that to mean I should care for everyone I meet." The fae admitted, her smile growing as Tiana twirled around her, before the two approached the tables that sunk with the weight of the food and drinks available.
Caelum quietly picked up a fruity drink, careful to ensure it's sugar content (only natural sugars for this fae), sipping it to taste the faintest twang of alcohol burn against the back of her throat and making a face, "I had forgotten that Uzuri had chosen a variety of alcoholic drinks to be readily available as well. It is still delicious of course, but a rather startling surprise when one is not expecting the burn." She informs the curious spirit, as she turns slightly to take in the crowd, occasionally smiling and dipping her head in response to friendly greetings, her gaze dancing over the individuals to see who all had show up.
No, not glancing over the individuals, her eyes were peeled for a black stallion, with jet curls and piercing blue eyes that never failed to make her knees weak. She highly doubted Vikander would appear in such event, but it never did stop her from searching him out hopefully. Always hopeful to spot the stallion who kept the air about him cool, but had a way of looking into her soul that made her warm all over. She glances away from the crowd, taking another sip of her drink; of course he wouldn't be here though . . . She knew better than to even hope. But there were still plenty of other friendly faces faces here that she could eagerly turn to for conversation. Finishing her drink, she allowed a waitstaff to take the empty glass before turning back to the crowd, "Shall we continue to mingle, Tiana?" She playfully asked the spirit, even as she walked back into the masses, a friendly smile on her face.
“Talk.” (Alternate color for thoughts). Tiana - the soul spirit
Running out of fucks that I can give to you
But you can still be pretty on the inside, too
Your heart's so cold, but I love the way you lie
Should've seen the red flags, but for you I'm fucking blind
take a drunk girl home
let her sleep all alone
leave her keys on the counter
your number by the phone
pick up her life she threw on the floor
Swahili stood, her ankles almost shaking, beside the front door of her father's manor. Her sisters where still getting ready, but Swa had wanted to make sure she was waiting and present as early as possible - putting on her best face, to prove to her father it wasn't a mistake to let her come along. The soft, pale cream silk flowed around her, and while it was clean, fresh - it was styled in the fashion of a few seasons ago - a hand-me-down from her siblings that had been outgrown, and thus tossed her way. Old, and unwanted; but still clean and well preserved so she wouldn't disgrace the family at such a prestigious event. The clicking of hooves against stone had the desert rose turning, watching her father's approach, noting the velveteen cloak drawn over his shoulders, the stark white mask upon his face. Her father was handsome - it was no surprise though, now with the picture the family all made together. He paused, seeing her already waiting, and his gaze searched her over.
"Father." She greeted quietly, bowing her head to him, her gaze casting to the floor, suddenly afraid he'd find something unfitting, and send her back to her room for the rest of the night, "Thank you for the opportunity to join you, and the rest of the family tonight. I promise to be on my best behavior, and serve House Ataear with my actions and presence." Her father sniffed slightly, nodding his head in a sharp jerk, As you should. Do not make me regret this decision, Swahili. Your brother assures me your behavior will be proper. Again his gaze sweeps over her, the sheer, pale cream shawl draping down her back, and the small cluster of rhinestones at her throat. The pale cream mask obscuring her face, the curls that bounced with her hair, and the pale ribbons she'd braided into those curls, You fit the part at the very least. We will be leaving when my wife and your siblings arrive. Swahili bowed her head once more, promising herself to be as proper as she could be tonight.
She didn't want to risk what ever he may choose to do to her if she didn't. She'd read books, all kinds of books about the unwanted children who get in the way of the parents. Of Cinderella and her step mother's tyranny, or of orphans placed in horrible homes under the watchful, cruel gaze of the matron. And while her father may never have struck her (in fact, he tended to forget she was there) who knew when he could turn into one of those individuals. She would do her best to behave at the very least. It was barely 15 minutes before she spotted her step-mother herding her sisters down the stairs, and soon they were on their way.
Arriving was fairly uneventful, her father leading the family to the new Sovereign to graciously greet her and thank the Dusk Queen for the chance to attend, and assuring her if she ever wished for a custom perfume blend, to look no further than her father's business. After that, the children where turned loose, though even Swahili noticed her father nod to a few discretely placed individuals who immediately took over watching over the wayward daughters for safety. To see one such individual tracking her with his eyes didn't lead her to a sense of safety though. He'd report any wrong doings surely! So the little rose meandered quietly away from the family, even as she watched her father go through the motions of making connections and selling his business. Her sisters found eligible bachelors to flirt with, and other females to gossip with.
Swahili, herself; however, moved to the edge of the ball, finding a selection of pillows laid out for resting individuals, and quietly lowered herself down, already determined to stay out of the way. She wasn't going to ruin this chance of freedom from those same boring halls, and same boring rooms in her wing of the manor. Even if it meant keeping to herself.
There was a flutter of emotions swirling within the mare. She had been a sovereign for a bit now and still felt like a filly playing dress up. Smiling softly into the mirror, she watched as one of the servants twisted her mane into an intricate style that showed off the colors within. She met the soft blue eyes of the mare and murmured a quick thanks to her. The servant disappeared quickly, leaving Uzuri in her room alone. Neema was somewhere in the court, likely causing chaos as she was prone to.
Heading to her wardrobe, she selected a richly hued navy cloak. It settled over her frame, her wings sliding through specially made cuts to leave them free. Even after all of these years, she hated her wings being confined at all. Moving through the citadel, she entered her armory and gazed at the box that held the sapphire necklace. Taking a deep breath, she placed it around her neck to sparkle in the lanterns that had been placed throughout the courtyard.
Summoning her courage, she left the stone walls and entered the crowd with warm smiles. Reaching the stage that she had set up for entertainers, she looked over the assembled bodies and took a deep breath. She was nervous, her body shaking slightly under the cloak. "Welcome! Thank you so much for joining me in celebrating the festival and enjoying the time together! I am so happy to see each of you, no matter if you are from my own beloved court or from another! Everyone is welcome and this togetherness should be celebrated. One small note. This event is under an umbrella of truce. Anyone found fighting will be encouraged to leave so that all may be welcome and enjoy their time." She called over the crowd, her chocolate eyes alighting on familiar faces.
"Now, enough with the official announcement and welcome. I am so happy to have you all here and hope that each of you enjoys the time you spend with us! Please eat, drink, and be merry!" She finished with a joyous smile before leaving the stage to find a drink herself. It was overwhelming to be the face of the event, but she hoped that it would be one that she could repeat in the future as well.
Finding one of the tables that was hosting the refreshments, she selected a slightly alcoholic beverage to try to take an edge off of her nerves and enjoy the event more fully. Moving away, she watched an entertainer take the stage and begin to sing with her beautiful voice.
"Uzuri"
@-- Notes: Uzi has officially opened the Dusk Ball <3
One purple hoof in front of the other, Phoebe climbed upward along the path that led to the peak of the region's central mountain range, already feeling the exhaustion creeping in. Typically, she had been told, individuals made this dangerous pilgrimage with the intent of worship, and supposedly the destination at the summit was something of a wonder to behold: beautiful and awe-inspiring and otherworldly enough to draw one closer to the gods that presided over them. Phoebe had never subscribed to a religion before, and still wasn't entirely sure how she felt about the one that dictated much of life on Novus--though she did feel an easy sort of kinship toward Vespera, the patron of the Dusk and apparently her lookalike. But it wasn't worship necessarily that drew her toward the peak today. It was the journey.
Though perhaps "trek" was a more apt descriptor. The path she followed was dangerous with its precarious switchbacks and steep rises snaking across ledges that made Phoebe wonder just what it would take for the ground to crumble out from beneath her and send her tumbling to her death. Dangers aside, however, it was an excellent workout. Not only did it test her endurance to go as far as she could, but it tested her agility and strength in ways she hadn't been tested before. It was exhausting work and already she was feeling sweat beginning to coat her body, while her breathing became slightly labored. [say]"Why did I decide to do this?[/say] she whispered to herself through an exhale, the expression on her face pinched with discomfort and the effort of pushing herself to continue. It would have been all too easy to simply give up, to settle somewhere upon the path, catch her breath, and take a leisurely pace back to the mountain's base and the Dusk lands beyond. It was so incredibly tempting, especially when she spotted a spot just ahead that would suffice quite nicely as a rest stop. [say]Just a little break...[/say]
[say]No.[/say] There was a reason she was doing this. It was all part of training. Two years--two years--she had stood back with only a longing to be a soldier of the Dusk Court, doing nothing to properly fit herself to the role. At last, Phoebe had voiced her desires aloud, to others who would hold her accountable, and she couldn't let them down. [say]Uzuri. Aeon.[/say] They were counting on her, expecting her to put in some good work, and while neither were aware of her exercise today--at least to her knowledge--the little sunset mare was no less determined to show them that she was strong enough to fulfill her desired role.
But it didn't necessarily mean she had to like the work. It was with a loud, audible whine that she pushed past the rest stop she'd been eyeing and continued onward, quietly huffing and puffing and climbing her way to the peak. She sent up a silent prayer, flippant and joking at her own expense and expectant of nothing but a chuckle if any deities might be listening: [say]Vespera...if you're listening...don't let me pass out?[/say]
