So this was Dusk. The word, the time, and the place. She had found herself in the swamps of the Dusk nation, and every step sucked at mud beneath her hooves. Latently, she wondered if she had wandered too far. But who cared, it wasn’t like she had anything waiting for her back home. No purpose, no lover, no one who cared about her. Maybe Galileo, but the truth was that it was lonely, Solterra. The whole of Novus was a lonely world that had no want for her in it. Sometimes she felt like she was an entree, something to digest while the world waited for the action to start.
This place was not the most beautiful that she had seen, but the time of day managed to turn it slightly elegant; the sunset shoved itself through the haze of fog and condensation. Jane felt it like sweat on her skin, climbing to her joints. It smelt of rain and musk, and in the faint corners of her eyes she imagined figments.
I should head home, I shouldn’t be here, Jane thought, stopping under a tree that looked remarkably akin to a crow’s foot in the way its black bark cracked and splintered as it curled. Yet there was peace in this place, and she managed to blend in. Dark coat was marred only by the rivers of gold that streaked her body.
Jane, came a voice, and she turned around suddenly, as it sounded like her mother. Her gaze fell upon a bird, a heron creeping through the undergrowth. It made eye contact with her for a moment, but clearly didn’t register her as a threat. A golden leg sank deep into muddy water, its feathers white yet speckled with mud. “You and me both, buddy,” Jane found herself saying, although she didn’t know what she meant. The heron regarded her lazily, its stance proud and arrogant. It cared for nothing, she thought, nothing beyond the next bug or fish that would keep it alive.
Jane glanced at the sky. She should have left hours ago, but yet she stayed. The moment of elegance had passed, and it was suddenly apparent that she may well be spending the next innumerable hours in a patch of mud. Oh well, whose loss was it really? Jane looked back to the heron and decided to stay near it. But as she decided that, a crack in the woods sounded and the bird took to flight.
Moonlight hissed through the trees like a rumour. One ear tipped back, and she remembered the last time she had been caught by a creature in the wild. At least now she was full bellied and slightly more toned, although starvation had certainly left its mark. She could at least try to trample a sand viper, but who knew what lived in these woods. Who knew what lay in wait, beneath the waters and the mud, watching her…
Voodoo stretched as he moved through the court. It was amusing that he had arrived at nearly the same time as a festival and some coronation events. Not that he had any idea who the new leader was. Voodoo frowned as he tried to decide if he cared about it or not. A leader was good for a court, but he was still struggling with leaving the Day court and the ideals that he had grown up with. Night was a vast difference in temperament and thought.
Sliding to a stop, the monochrome stallion stared at the massive creation before him. His glacial blue eyes were incredulous as he gazed, picking out the form and noticing odd baubles around the hooves of the massive horse. What in the world?! Solis help him... this was odd. Did he join a cult without realizing it?! Snorting, he strode forward with feline grace to explore further.
"What in the world?" He muttered, his dark voice rich as he moved. His eyes picked out various additions to the statue and he found himself more and more amused. Moving a little way off, where he could see the structure fully without having to struggle, he watched the members of the court as they interacted with it.
He had heard the stories, the lore around the solar courts... but it was still odd to experience things from the perspective of another. This was not something he would expect around Solterra... That much was certain. But he needed to remember that he was no longer in the court that had been his home. He needed to learn more about these... beings... Flicking an ear, he settled in to watch.
@Israfel
"Speaking." Notes: Butthead doesnt know what to make of the giant burning horse XD
so welcome to the fire
i’m the one who lit the night up
see them running through the flames
as we’re walking through the flames
getting higher
A burning Phoenix was her guide as she returned to Denocte, this time for good.
For years Israfel had faithfully served Terrastella. She had loved it fiercely when so few could, going so far as to regularly patrol the swamps even though she bitched about it constantly. When Vespera turned tail and abandoned them, choosing to stand by and watch as they flailed and tried to stay afloat amidst rainstorms, torrential flooding, and gaping sinkholes, Israfel remained. She helped those who needed it, fought for those who needed defending, and protected the ones near and dear to her with stalwart determination and scathing wit. Kings and Queens came and went time and time again, and yet she remained.
There were no others who had lived within Terrastella’s borders for as long as she had, none who had served it longer than she. Israfel kept the homefires burning and no one else could say the same, but now… Well, now was a time for change. Elena had things under control.
Free of her duty and obligation to a Court now behind her, Israfel returned to Denocte like a beacon in the night. Wings aflame like a star descending the heavens, she followed Solaris as the Phoenix guided the way. They landed just outside of the city proper, dousing their flames so as not to alarm the citizens and soldiers alike. Isra honestly had little desire to cause such a stir so early on. That type of fun would come later.
Solaris took perch upon Israfel’s croup, the large bird of lore admiring the city. Darkness had fallen perhaps an hour or two ago during their travels, and it seemed fitting that they returned to the Night Court with the nightlife in full swing and revelry.
The music from the illustrious markets could be heard even at that distance, as well as the steady beat of a drum and the melodic vocals of a number of talented entertainers. The heady smell of incense carried along the autumn breeze, sweet and inviting, and irrevocably Israfel felt herself being drawn in that very direction. Like a pale spectre she moved, her steps an elegant sashay as she ambled along the streets. The buildings here lay oddly quiet, but Israfel was slowly learning that most of the inhabitants had either gone to bed or sought out the fun and excitement that came with the marketplace nightlife.
The Sun Daughter waltzed through the alleys, thoughtful and intrigued. It would take her some time until she learned the layout of this Court as well as she knew Terrastella, but that would come with time.
Time. Goodness. She had nothing but time anymore. No duty, no obligations, nothing. It would only be a matter of time until she grew bored and restless with her newfound freedom…
It was only when she rounded a corner onto a wide street and spotted another fellow out and about that evening, a man with a medley of whites and blacks with opalite-like hooves and horn, that she almost broke her silence to call out to him yet hesitated at the last moment. Vermilion eyes narrowed in thought, lips slightly parted. Was that… Now, Israfel had never met the recently crowned Night King. Ira was his name? Luvena had called him that, and she had described him enough to give Israfel some inkling that this might be him, but…
“Hey!” She yelled out suddenly, just because she could. “Are you Ira?”
Upon her back Solaris gave a mighty sigh of exasperation and rolled her lavender eyes, far used to her chosen child’s rather unorthodox approach to life by now.
A set of eyes had pinned him
Became his version of a kingdom
She's everything the devil can't be
When she's singing to me "Glory"
Finding the recently ascended Dusk Queen was not particularly difficult. Solaris had taken to the skies to scout around the Court proper, diving between alleys and soaring high to search for her, but eventually the Queen was spotted in the courtyard outside of the citadel and the Phoenix had perched high atop a stone balustrade to keep an eye on the newly crowned Sovereign as Israfel caught up.
“Elena.”
The Sun Daughter arrived as she always did in the wake of her sing-song call; a confident, casual sashay and an arrogant grin a mile wide. Every step was made with cocksure grace and tenacity, the ruby gems of her vermilion eyes glittering in the afternoon sun. Pale and illustrious, Israfel had returned to Terrastella after only a few weeks within Denocte, but her visit to Dusk would not last long.
She was here for a reason, after all… And if anyone would understand the importance of self-growth and the necessity of change, it would be Elena.
Jaw lifted and rose-kissed lips set in a broad grin, the Sun Daughter gave her Queen a little nod of recognition but it would be impossible to miss the mirthful dance in her vermilion eyes. “Or should I say, Your Highness.’” The notorious, good-willed sarcasm that Israfel had been known to possess had finally returned full force since she had escorted Luvena back to Denocte, her heart growing lighter amidst her prolonged stay. The worries and weight that once hung upon her slender shoulders like a cumbersome mantle were now gone, freed from her mind… But not entirely. There was one thing she still had to do, and only Elena would know of it.
It was time for change, but not just for Israfel.
“I was hoping to steal a moment of your time? It’s important.”
Posted by: Israfel - 02-08-2021, 10:52 AM - Forum: Veneror Peak
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A set of eyes had pinned him
Became his version of a kingdom
She's everything the devil can't be
When she's singing to me "Glory"
This was not a trek that Israfel made often. Honestly she hardly saw the point. It wasn’t as though she was the praying sort, despite the godly blood that flowed through her very veins...
The gods were as absent to her here on Novus as her own home of Helovia was, sand long-fallen through the empty top of an hourglass never to be reached or held again. They were there in theory, yet they weren’t omnipresent beings that chose to intervene when they very well had the power to do just that. They chose not to, leaving the mortals to fend for themselves… And yet the mortals prayed to them for guidance, for salvation, for understanding.
She recalled, vividly, the moment that Theodosia had thwacked Vespera atop the head with her wing. Even now, standing on the threshold of the temple atop Veneror, the memory alone brought a crooked smile to the Sun Daughter’s face. Sacrilege? Maybe, but as the Sun Daughter took a step into the temple itself, breathing in the musty, still air, no harm came to her for such a blasphemous thought.
To put it plainly, Israfel thought very little of the Novus pantheon. Her experiences had been seclusive to Vespera alone however, and the Sun Daughter had a feeling that maybe that was just the impression individuals got when dealing with the Dusk Court’s chosen deity. For someone who had lived within Terrastella for as long as she had, Israfel felt little to no fealty to her… Yet their interactions had been anything but savory.
As her eyes adjusted to the darkness of the temple, Israfel glanced about the interior itself. Banners hung with depictions of the Novus pantheon, the cut of the place immaculate and remarkably taken care of despite there not being another soul in sight. Further in upon the designed dais for each depicted statuette, Israfel could easily tell them apart as she stepped closer, the gentle staccato of golden hooves a rhythmic tattoo upon the stone floor.
Unlit candles remained strewn across the temple, long-cooled pools of wax collecting at their base. As she passed, Israfel lit every single one with a pass of a wing feather, casting the temple interior with a warm, welcoming glow. She did her rounds, moving with a respectful ease, gradually replacing the cold, empty chill of the temple with warm, bright life.
Her rounds done and the interior efficiently set aglow with flickering shadows upon the walls, Israfel paused, standing in the center of the holiest place in all of Novus. Her eyes, keen pools of glittering rubies in the flickering firelight, focused on the four statues upon their exalted pedestals. She had come here for only one, and it was not the one that she once would have ventured all this way for.
Caligo..
Caligo’s statuette glistened like a dark beacon, summoning her forward, calling her. The Night demi-goddess’ stone cut eyes glittered in an unnervingly lifelike way, and honestly Israfel felt something within her pale breast shift.
Her ears tipped back, rose-kissed lips curling in a deep frown, before a world-weary sigh escaped her mouth. It was only after a quick cursory glance around to confirm that she was alone did Israfel speak, her soft voice carrying easy enough through the echoing chambers of this holy place.
“... I hated you for a long time,” she began, chewing on her words before allowing them to spill, that familiar bitter fury broiling in her veins as she admitted such a blasphemous secret before the demi-goddess she had come to see, “You and your Court. I hated those you put in command. I doubted your ability to pick worthy leaders. Many of them fell short to any expectation I had.”
Israfel did not know the newly crowned Night King, but it had been the people who had crowned him, not Caligo. It was not her place to judge their decision. The others, however… Israfel scoffed, an angry, bitter sound.
They had never been worthy.
“Honestly I never knew why I did. Your people sang of ‘inclusion’, yet I never felt welcome within your streets. I always felt dampened by your darkness, like my fire could not burn as bright.” A warped, troubled, sardonic grin poisoned the Sun Daughter’s features, twisting her pretty face in the shifting firelight. “... I found out why, though. It wasn’t you that I hated. It was them. They weren’t worthy of you.”
The admission burned, yet it needed to be said. Israfel was a ball of spite, rage, and heartache. Nothing really made much sense anymore and none of the others in the Pantheon could soothe such an ire. They couldn’t possibly understand what it was like to be half-blood, like Caligo was, like Israfel was.
“Maybe I just wanted to be noticed by you. You could understand. You know what it’s like to be overshadowed, to be ignored, to have to burn brighter than all of the rest in order to get what you want. Sometimes you have to take it.” The words were spat with such ferocity that Israfel shook, her body trembling, the rage coming off of her in waves… Yet it soothed a moment later as the ivory and gold maiden sucked in a long, deep, measured breath. Her eyes glanced upwards, baleful and pleading, meeting the stone cut stare of Caligo’s brazen, silent statuette.
“... But then Lu told me something. She said ‘fires burn brightest at night’, and something about hearing that made me realize that I needed to come to you. To talk to you. I don’t know if I’m here to ask for your forgiveness, or your rage, or your understanding. Fuck, maybe all of it. I don’t even know if you can hear me. I could be talking to a fucking slab of rock and have no damn idea.” Israfel paused, furrowed her brows, and went on. “... At least it’s a pretty slab of rock.”
She fell quiet and silence echoed loudly around her ears. She glanced down, to the side, away from the statuette and it’s knowing stone cut eyes, staring anywhere but there. With bated breath did Israfel wait, yet when nothing happened as the moments trickled by, another exasperated exhale left her and she went on.
“I plan to leave Terrastella. I’m going to stay in Denocte for awhile. I want to see why people love you so damn much. I want to learn from you. I’ve been in Novus a long time but I feel like I’ve learned so very little. Maybe a little change of pace will help that.” Another sardonic smirk twisted Israfel’s lips but this one was not in vehemence, but in good humor. “I want to see if maybe I can be noticed by you.”
After all, maybe Luvena was right; maybe if she burned bright enough, Caligo would notice.
Visions of your pretty face send me into hyper space
Caught up in a palentary world
Heat, everywhere she felt heat. It was never-ending, crushing, throwing her entire body into a raging inferno. Had her eyes been open she would have seen those streaks of hot, fiery light cascading around her body, streaming after it as she fell. Instead, she could only focus on that all-encompassing heat pressing down and around her. It drew the breath from her chest and held it captive - forcing for her to gasp in a desperate bid to find anything to breathe in. Alarmed flared deep within her chest as she descended through the uppermost limits of an atmosphere, a vibrant hue of a dying star staining, imprinting behind her eyelids. White. Pain. White. Fear. White. White. Pain. Pressure. White. The color and the feelings fought for dominance in her head, soon overlaying one another in a desperate bid of importance, White-Pain. Fear-Pain. Pain. White-Fear. The cycle of color to emotion never-ending, only rearranging what was at the focus of her primitive thoughts. Not that the mare herself was primitive, eons-old but unaccustomed to thoughts, words, language.
The pain wasn't new though.
Her wings were wrenched, caught in an uneven force as her body was dragged by gravity down, and her wings were pushed by pressure up. A startled cry reached her ears, high, but lyrical, filled with unimaginable pain, but so foreign to the mare. Her voice heard by her own ears for the first time, only now audible after leaving the vacuum of pain. More sounds began to plague her, the roar of pressure past her, the silent hum of her heart as it grew hotter and brighter in her chest, now that it had access to even more particles than it did in space, eating through the many elements of the atmosphere to fuel itself one hundred times over. Pain, pain, white, pain! Pressure, fear, pain! The emotions and color returned with a vengeance as she continued this agonizing descent, as a new flash of color joined the ivory behind her eyes, the fiery hues of a hydrogen-depleted star: White, Red, Angry, Hot, Pain. Red-Anger, Red-Hot, White-Hot-Pain. Jumbling current of emotions, colors, feelings she had no ability to put into actual words, only emotions and colors across her mind. She had no concept of language to even begin to properly tell just what she was going through - even if she had the ability to focus on a language to explain it at this very moment.
Never-ending pressure.
It grew heavier upon her, gravity mixing with pressure, as her own body streaked across the sky, a dark point, caught in the fiery descent, like a tail of ivory, yellow mixed with the natural particles of deep purple, neon pink, and vibrant cyan that made up the galaxy dust that bled off her in a faster rate than normal. Her heart, the star in her chest, constantly creating more of the galaxy dust as it worked in hyperdrive, consuming any of the pressurized atmospheres around the mare as if it would help control what the creature felt. It took in every oxygen element, every hydrogen particle, every carbon dioxide atom it came across, turning some of it into fuel, others were stored for future fuel. What was previously a small star in her chest grew larger at the extra atoms and elements it was storing for later, gathering more and reaching the size of a proper star now that she had access to such elements. Not that the nebula come horse would be aware of the growth that would later in life affect her own lifespan. Instead, all she could think about was that heat.
So much heat.
Over and over, she seemed to spin, the heat adding to the discomforting feeling. Slashes of yellow joined in her mindscape, hot as the hottest star, a fiery landscape only she could see. White, red, yellow, streaking, slashing. And so much pain. The spinning continued, over and over and over again. Pressure closing tighter around her, her lungs burning as new elements were forced in, taking in oxygen for the first time and another scream tore from a savaged throat. Her head was pushed up and back, her mane whipping behind her like a banner of the fallen. Her hooves drawn close to her body, as she tumbled, end over end, pressure against gravity, a spiraling creation of doom, pain, misery, never-ending. It brought back memories of her creation, or when she'd first learned to use the new limbs. She'd spun forever then, but at least there had been no pain. Now the memories returned, they were hued over with the colors she felt, reds and yellows dying the former black and white memory into a fiery sepia hue. Spinning, kicking, spinning. Red-spinning, Red-Yellow Spinning. Hot, heat, pressure, heat, pain, pain, pain, pain, pain, pain, pain, pain. It was a never-ending cycle of pain, her descent growing faster as she passed through the stratosphere, finally hitting the tropopause layer, and suddenly it became so much worse.
The pain was magnified.
The air she fell through grew denser, heavier, harder to breathe, gravity pushing her down faster and faster. Around her, she could feel different reactions as her body fell through what felt like layers of loose liquid, and in those brief layers, she felt relief, as the coolness pressed against the heat her body was generating in the descent. She was unaware of the approaching ground, eyes tightening against the heaviness on her bones, the pressure folding around her, threatening to tear her apart. And then, with a blast ring twenty times her size, the mare was slammed into the mountain, stardust coating the entire impact crater with the glittering hues that floated off her wings, her mane, and tail where they draped across the ground. The intense heat and pressure were suddenly gone, although they're still seemed to be a wait arguing with her about trying to get up. The pain remained, however, now all over and not just from the searing heat earlier. The impact hadn't been nice, although the snow she lay in was. Her eyes slowly open, the pink glow of them standing out against her dark face, as she took in the ivory scene around her. As white as the color behind her eyes had been.
She slowly felt awareness return.
There was so much color, enough that her eyes closed again, only to reopen slightly as she looked around without having to lift her head. Large things, tall as she could imagine seemed to stand around her, like giants guarding the world. The wind shook their numerous limbs, sending a fresh, although slightly spicy scent her way, alarming her by the first time she'd ever felt the wind, let alone smelt something. She began to hear the world come alive again, songs carried with a variety of melodies that she couldn't begin to classify - and she had no idea where they might come from. She slowly struggled to stand, limbs shaking against the heavy gravity that weighed her down, her wings tucked in close to her side, still aching from the force of pressure that had wrenched them this way and that when she'd fallen. Her mane and tail seemed to stay in constant movement as she braced her body, limbs widespread, head and neck low to the ground, eyes closed against the pain. She attempted an awkward step, as she might have in space. Her limbs buckled, sending her back to the ground, where she allowed herself to curl up against the pain, wings loosening, drooping into the snow, as the mare remained in the middle of the creator of her own making, ivory coated with the remnant of galaxy dust as the nebula fought to control the aches and the pains she was feeling for the first time in this form. At least the odd white fluff under her was helping to soothe it. But still. Pain. Pain. White. Cool. Pain. She had no idea where she might be, or what all these odd colors, scents and sounds around her could even be. And since the moment she opened her eyes on this rock, that fear came back, overshadowing the pain as she realized her grand adventure through the galaxy had led to an explosive ending indeed.
FROM THE MOUTH INSIDE THE MIND
Open to anyone! Notes:: And thus, poor Veil has crashed onto her first rock.
Breathin' in you give me air, I'm living on your solar flare
Could you be my super nova girl?
Summer’s lively breeze had bled into autumn’s quiet chill. Leaves had changed from green, to a myriad of reds and oranges, all bleeding into one another in a splendor of color. Certain market stalls had closed up, as summer vendors moved back out of the court to their families and children. The sky darkened earliers, and days shortened into quieter nights, giving the night court the peace it desired.
Luvena had missed all of it, tucked away in her single roomed home, the curtains drawn tightly, the door latched, except to let the girls out a few times a day to romp and hunt. Not a single flame bled light into the room. It had been three days since she’d spilled sour words into the ear of a man who did not deserve them. Since she’d plucked a sprig of Rosemary and laid it at Caligos feet, a feeble offering from a feeble woman.
A fact which she’d been starkly reminded of. Her stubbornness had always been her downfall. In Elysium when she’d decided she wanted nothing more than a child to call her own, in the Waste, when she’d decided to push herself training with Kodarki - Galileo, for hours under the hot sun. Here, when she’d decided to drag herself up Novus’ highest peak, taking neither Picoro nor the ever growing Leonbergers. She had convinced herself she could make it without consequence. And as always she had been wrong.
She laid there for days, sleeping fitfully through the smoky haze that clouded her dreams. Waking only long enough to change the dressing on her legs, covered in scrapes, from falling near the bottom of the mountain, and catching herself on both knees, where she’d stayed trembling for a few minutes, before rising.
She’d turned away numerous patients directing them to other medics in the city. Polar North could handle those looking for a quick fix of pain management - she’d seen to teaching the girl that herself- and Gareth could handle the rest, out at Vitreus lake. She’d seen to only one. A man from the barracks who had shown up with a nasty gash down his shoulder, sword practice gone wrong. She’d quickly stitched him up with the last of her sinew, and sent him on his way, with a note, scrawled in messy lettering explaining her treatment, so that the next medic he saw could treat him accordingly. And then she’d gone back to her bed of moss, tucking her head back into her side.
Picoro urged her to go see another medic, or at least to get up and eat something. But she refused. It was not just fever that plagued her, and that much she could handle on her own, here with an endless store of herbs. But anger, and bitterness, things she’d tried to leave up there, with the man and the statues, but instead had curled its unforgiving fingers around her. Still, regret cut it’s way through them.
Never had she lost her temper so at someone. Had she chided them with such a cold tongue. Never had she raised her voice so loudly over the howling winds, shouting, so that even those who did not care for her would listen. She had shed no tears when she returned that night, even though Picoro could feel them burning inside her. Instead she’d swallowed them down, storing them deep inside, not wanting to face everything she’d seen up there.
It was a sharp knock that startled her from her slumber on the third afternoon. She raised her head slowly, just about to tell them to go away, when she heard a familiar voice call hesitantly through the wood. “Lu?” Picoro roused himself from the quick nap he had taken (though he would never admit it, he had lost much sleep over the past few days, fretting over his companion).
She shut her eyes for a moment, knowing she could not turn away the Solterran soldier. Even though the girls were out, and wouldn’t give her away, she knew if she did - turn him away that was - she would regret it immediately. Quietly she drew herself to her feet, trembling. She pulled back the curtains, squinting as light filled the room for the first time in days. As quietly as she could she pulled a jar off the shelf, plucking a few leaves of dried feverfew, and swallowing them quickly, hoping to quell the fever that had been running its course since she’d stumbled down the peak.
It was not a matter of pretending to be someone she wasn’t. Galileo knew her. But the only other time he’d seen her this way she’d almost slipped away. And the last thing she wanted, was to see worry in the old man’s eyes. She checked the bandages on her legs, making sure they hid the healing wounds underneath, and crept her way to the door. Doing her best to still the heavy shake of her body to its normal frail tremble.
She pulled open the door, clearing her throat as silently as she could, tilting her head up to look at the general. “Ko-” she stopped herself “Galileo” she smiled with her greeting, hoping he’d look past the the glassy film over her eyes. He seemed happier then usual, and she wanted nothing more then to keep that present, hoping it would fill the silence that roared inside her. She stepped aside, pulling the door wide open. "Come in"
WANTING IT CARVING IT DOWN TO VISION. a coliseum of bent light
In the right light, the desert looks powder blue, like a landscape of icy hills stretching far back to a baby pink sky. The sun, the symbol of the Court, is a relentless, pale-white sphere of an eye, looming judgement across all mortal flesh. The air is heavy with the stench of celebration, of dust and sand, of spice, of piss and the bitter bile of vomit. The fingers of a breeze, started somewhere off in the far distance, rustling the short-clipped black strands of her hair. Warbird lifts her chin, face to the sun, eyes falling shut. Her warrior’s preparation, a calmness in her blood in sharp opposition to the chaos around her.
She prefers to stand on a balcony and center her breathing while the attendants rush around within. The coliseum is being prepared for a new battle, as sand is raked over the old blood, spent arrows are gathered from where they lay on the ground, and the garbage tossed in by overstimulated watchers is put into bags and carted off. Reminiscent of a tea-kettle rising it’s way to boiling, the crowd is a rough sort of settled, impatient in their waiting, and ready for the next bout. And the one after that. And the one after that, and so on, and so on, until as such time mankind tires of blood, which will be the day the sun burns out of the sky.
Stykkislange is stretched out to her full length along the bannister, looking for all the world like some hyperrealistic decorum of painted marble. At Warbird’s behest, she would not be partaking in the Solonia round, though it took very little convincing on her Valkyr’s part. Stykki was a lazy beast who only liked to exert herself should she have some personal gain and having been repeatedly told she could not eat their opponent had dampened her spirits.
She was an eater, after all, not a fighter.
Following custom, Warbird was not allowed to view the sheet with the listed bouts and as such did not know who she was facing off against; she did not care. She was battle-tested and unbothered. The rules explicitly stated it was to be a friendly bout, spurred on by the flavor of healthy competition-- but all fights were fights, plain and simple, and every opponent deserved the brunt force of her.
but you are sssstill not going to wear your armor, Stykki questioned, her voice a wet hiss as she looked at the Valkyr from the corner of one viper-like eye.
“My armor was forged by Tyr and tempered in the blood of the Valkyr,” Warbird responded, turning towards the doorway, “it is a suit for war, not parties.” The snake did not deign to reply, so she added: “Do not eat anyone while I am gone, or I shall cut them from your stomach.”
A lingering attendant arrived just in time to hear the last part of that foreboding statement and Warbird could see the nausea on their face; with trembling hands they held up a blunted shortsword, most likely used for the training of armies; Warbird took up the sword and the attendant hastily scrambled back. After a few swings to test it’s heft and hold, Warbird found the thing to be a piece of junk-- fighting with such an implement would add to the challenge instead of leveling the playing field.
Resting the sword at her side, she climbs down a large staircase and takes her place behind the shadow of a large set of doors. Counting one, two, three beats before there is a loud thunk, the creeeaaaak of old hinges, and the mounting roar of the crowd; unbidden, she surges forward, crossing the threshold where stone turns to sand, and out into the blaring brightness of the day.
“And for our next match, the long-standing daughter of the Day Court, the dual-eyed Maiden, versus the world-weary newcomer, Apolonia of the Day Court versus the Warbird!”
Warbird scoffs deep in her throat. She is not weary, in any sense of the word; instead, she is absolutely buzzing, echoing the chaotic dirge of the crowd. She faces off against her opponent, a beautiful, striking fae with golden pelt and oaken hair.
This woman, Apolonia, is curves and blue eyes and an air of false fragility, like a sharp shard of glass, glinting in the sun.
Luckily enough, Warbird is not one to underestimate an opponent. She gives a stiff bow, never taking her eyes off the sun-hued princess, and positions her sword in a cross-body, defensive stance, blade facing backwards and lifted slightly off her left shoulder.
"Speech."stykki speech | @Apolonia | an intwo post!! you can have first attack
Earth and heaven could not stop his determination.
After his fight with Saoirse, he had returned to his home -- if it could really be called that. The canyons served their purpose well, protecting him from predators and others. But the fight, and moreover, the party, had reminded him that being away from the bustle of courtly life was not all it was cracked up to be. Galileo had never done "being alone" well; his whole childhood had been built towards serving his family, his country, and his army -- never serving himself.
Old habits die hard, and he when he had fought the skilled warrior Saoirse, he'd felt something come back alight inside him, like an ember blown upon with gentle breath. It had flickered at first, unsure of itself, and it had been dampened by the multiple hits he'd received from the mare. That was something he wasn't used to. He had blamed it on age, of fear of being laughed at. But truthfully, it was something deeper, something less physical, less tangible.
Now, with a win under his belt, his confidence has sparked again. As he'd paced in his canyon-home, he'd considered his options carefully (which in itself was very unlike the stallion). If he was totally honest with himself, he had thought that after all he had been through, he would go to his homeland. Turn himself in, serve his time in jail... and be reprimanded by his father. Those things, of course, had not called to him, but the consideration that he could be reunited with his mother and sister (if they were still alive) tugged on his heart strings. But he was hesitant. How could he bring himself to face those he disappointed? No, that wasn't the answer.
Grasping desperately at what he wants, what he needs to begin healing again, he reflects on his history. But it is the future that he intends to pave, something new and never seen before, a destiny forged of his own accord.
A place to call home and a king to serve is all he desires.
He is not sure where to find Adonai, but he knows where to start. Racing back to the Day Court stronghold, he huffs as he catches his breath in the courtyard, his hooves clipping the ground as he dodges the common folk. Nobody seems to recognise him, nobody remembers the oak tree that fought only the other week.
This was a conversation that needed to be had. Galileo needed to learn if there was potential for him here, potential to serve.
[say]"Adonai!"[/say]
He bellows the sun-kissed king's name out as he enters some kind of large room inside the palace. It is almost empty, save for a few servants who look up and give him a judgemental look. Turning to one of them, he speaks again.
[say]"Where is the king? I must speak with him."[/say] He urges, spurring the servant on to be quick, to deliver the stallion to his presence.
Where do you think we would end up if we all made peace with ourselves, spoke our secrets, resolved our pasts, and stood before one another in a show of solidarity and strength?
Raglan supposed that the world would be a kinder place, no doubt, and there wouldn’t be so many made-up walls standing between creatures living fully with those they loved. For once, the stallion was considering these unattainable things without despair — indeed, he found himself joyful and almost content in the bright light of dawn. Shadows stretched long fingers over the garden district of the Terrastellan capitol, taking vines and summer blooms and reworking them into caricatures of themselves over the cobbles.
A lone tomcat lounged in the pathway, his great fuzzy bulk taking up the better half of the middle. Slowing to a stop, enjoying the pleasant warmth of the dawntide sun across his back, Raglan watched the feline with a friendly disinterest. At the sound of the pegasus’ approach, the striped cat cracked open a pair of bottle green eyes and assessed the lanky male lazily. ”Greetings, cat,” Smiled the Crow, ”In another life, if I went by the same form as I do title, you would make a meal of me.”
And yet, judging by the way the tomcat yawned and licked his chops, Raglan wondered if the feline might be considering taking a bite regardless. Quirking an ear toward his newest adversary, the stallion flared his wings slightly and arched his neck in jest, silvery eyes watching the cat in the same manner it watched him. ”I am terribly gamey and most likely sour, I assure you,”He implored with a dramatic flair, folding black tipped wings back to mahogany sides.
”But if that is the price of my passage, oh, Mighty Sphinx,” A pause here for the theatrics of it all, listing to the side as if mortally wounded, ”Then chomp as you will, but please, leave my beautiful face.”
