Her goal had once been to ascend the highest peak of the lunar mountain. First she had been promised a guided trip up one day, by an elusive stranger, who though odd, had been kind, in a way that drew you in. He had never returned, and sometimes she wondered, if that stranger had been a dream. Some feverish phantom, who had come to her once and disappeared. When she had been given Vega’s gift, she had told herself, that one day, she would venture up that peak. But time got in the way, and eventually… those peaks were no more, and neither was that version of herself. 

Every day she had stayed in the lower mountains, in the night order she had looked to the Veneror peak. A concept so foreign the peak might has well have been forbidden land to her. Hardly able to ascend to the order herself, it seemed a far off dream that she might one day climb to its summit. 

She had had no reason to either. For a long time all she had for gods was a string of anger, fury, at what the world had given her. The hand she had been dealt. A life full of suffering, right from the start. Of illness and turmoil and cruelty. Of gifts given and torn away. She had said her piece to Caligo once, from the quiet of her room, watching the moon out the window, from just between the red drapery. She cared not if she had been heard or not, as she poured her heart out into the night. In truth, she had had no one else to give it to. She had held such bitterness and contempt for those above, one that hadn’t healed in many years time. One that rivalled her fear of flames, and the love of her children. 

But over the months, she had softened. Seen the way Caligos people had opened themselves to her. Learned of the turmoils Caligo had faced herself, chided and shamed by her siblings. Casting the world into darkness. And little by little, the plea of the night goddess resonated within her. It sparked whatever shred of devotion that had been left to fester after Elysiums betrayal. 

So when she awoke on the morning before the full moon, she decided to do something foolish. She left in silence, careful not to wake Picoro, or the pups, who all slept soundly within the cramped quarters, that smelled of herbs and wildflowers. She set out alone, she knew it was a stupid endeavor, and one that might very well kill her. But she had nothing to offer Caligo except her efforts, and a sprig of rosemary. She set course for the peak before the sun had even fully crossed the horizon. Knowing how long it would take her to reach the summit statues. 

She grew nervous, by the time she reached the foothills, with the sun already at its peak, casting hot rays over her back, warming the sooty markings that crossed her body. She looked at the mountains with a mix of excitement and terror. Knowing that one mistep, one trip or stumble, ones she was oft’ prone too even on solid earth, could be a death sentence. The image of her body cascading down the cliffs crossed her mind. And yet something pushed her to go on anyways. Perhaps it was that the woman was too hard headed to stop, or perhaps it was something else. 

So she began her ascent. By the time she reached the height of the order her body was weary, and her breaths came ragged. And already the sun was nearly touching the horizon, and rather than slow, she pushed her legs to stride farther, ignoring the ache that crept through her. The farther she went, the thinner the air grew. She began to doubt herself, to think how foolish she truly was, to think she could make it all the way up, without succumbing to herself. 

She stopped at one point, wheezing so hard her head began to spin, as her whole body trembled, and she thought to herself that she would never make it up to the peak, that she still had far too far to go. She realized then how dark it had become, how quiet the air had still, and her gaze followed the sky to the rising moon, she realized she was only a few meters down from the peak, she could see each deities statue. Three made of white marble, stark against Caligos sky. But there was one, that could only be made out in blurred edges, blending in with the sky beyond. 

She heard echoes of voices past whispered in her ear. “She won't make it past three” “-won’t ever rule” “-can barely hold herself up” and anger flooded her once more, but this time at the people who had told her she was never enough. Who had one by one struck her verbal blows, when they thought she wasn’t listening. Always too cowardly to say it to her face.  Too cowardly to look her in the eyes and tell her she would never be enough. 

So she pushed herself forward around the winding path. Step by trembling step, as every muscle screamed at her to stop, and every breath brought her closer to unconsciousness, she kept moving. Until after what felt like hours, what may very well have been hours, she stood face to face with the Black statue. Made visible by the full moon that shone bright, and beautiful behind Caligos delicately carved face, every feature sculpted with care. 

She collapsed at the statue's hooves, her legs giving out beneath her. Though her whole body shook violently, her eyes burned brighter then they had in many years, just as they had when she too had resided in that dark sky. “Caligo” she started, pulling her one sprig of rosemary out of her satchel, and placing it in front of her “Last I spoke to you, I do not know if you listened, and I don't care. I told you I would never be a pawn to the gods again, that I would not play in your games. I still will not” She wheezed for air between almost every word, but did not stop, and her voice came strong through every word nonetheless. 

“I have been a pawn before, I told you of it then too. When I took Acrux’s people to lead, only for him to let it be taken by a woman with no justice. When I accepted Vega’s blessing, just before they let the sky fall on top of us, crushing any who stayed beneath it. I will not do that again. I will not let myself fall to the gods again. When I leave this earth it will be on my terms. I will see to it that it is on my terms.” 

“I told myself I would not follow a god ever again, that I would not fall to their whims, or their ways. Whether that be to love them or to serve them, or to devote my life to them. I will not love you or serve you or devote my life to you. But I have watched the way the night order does so. I have seen the way the rest of the court speaks of you and your past. I have watched entertainers in the square sing and dance in your name, and make tapestries in your image. Denoctians have carved your image into walls, and onto plaques, and made you their patron. They pray to you when they are desperate, and they curse you when they have been wronged” 

“But perhaps I will open my heart to you. To see your ways, perhaps I too will curse in your name when the world does me wrong inevitably once more. Perhaps I will curse in your name when I’ve brought despair with me again as I’m always seen prone to do. And perhaps I will give praise in your name when gods forbid something goes right, when Rhone tells me he’s ready, and when Galileo Kodarki decides he is worthy of happiness. When I decide I am worthy of it too” 

“Make no mistake. I will not cast my life aside to be trampled on once more, but I will try to let myself love something higher once again. And at least with the night I can once again think to look to the stars for some sort of light, when the rest of the world goes dark.”  
@Caligo

Luvena has loved many places in her lifetime. She has loved the cascading willows and soft winds of Herstial. The songs that herstillian sung, that lilted over the wind, and carried a melody and harmony together, hauntingly beautiful tunes gliding through the kingdom.
  
She has loved the towering trees and dappled ground of the woods, and the deafening darkness at its center. With the Artax leaping through, hooves large enough to crush, and antlers that knocked down trees, making way for new life among their old and rotting roots. 

She had even come to love the Red waste, with its sun shining brightly over towering rocks made of sandstone and strength. It’s oasis a beacon of hope in a harsh landscape, and it’s people good enough to take her at her worst, good enough to raise her children with hope. 

She has even come to love the night court itself. Though it can be a harsh place, as any city can, with people unruly milling about among the kindest of them. Though the torches on the walls, that are lit at night make her skin prickle with unease, as she dances as far away from each one as she can. There is something about the court that makes her heart swell with pride to call it her home. Even the carvings of Caligo in the stone walls start to resonate with her, and she begins to see the goddesses presence in the moon and the stars. And she wonders if perhaps, it is time to pay the night deity a visit. 

But she can not always look at it cheerfully. She can’t this night, when she spots a citizen unknown to her berating a beggar in some side alley. She makes her way over with haste, wobbling on thin legs. Without a word she dropped a silver coin into the beggars bag. It took only a moment for the belligerent stranger to start arguing with her as well.

“Why give to him? For sitting here? Doing nothing for the court!” 
“Because I know what it is to not be able to work” 

They continued on like this for a few minutes, unaware of the woman entering the alley

@Kassandra

It was not often she visited the markets. Too many made it their hunting grounds. It was not the beggars who bothered her, often she stopped to speak to them, and knew some by name these days. No, it was the thieves, the barterers, who she hated. Who would stop you in the streets to see what wares you would sacrifice, whether you were selling or not. 
The pickpockets, who would reach into satchels, and clothes, and fish for any valuables deep inside. Quick and quiet, and indistinguishable in a crowd.  

But today she ventured in, looking to purchase some gauze, and some thread, proper supplies to have in her stores should they be needed. Denocte’s spinners, and weavers, were the best people to get it from. Making it fine enough to wrap a wound without hindering soldiers, but made well enough to absorb properly. She made her way around, closely inspecting everyone's wares to make a decision.  She was just paying for a roll of gauze, when she heard a sharp cry of “look out!” 

She spun around just in time to see the top of a merchant's stall come crashing down, falling on top of whoever was underneath, passerby or merchant.a commotion quickly arose, as others moved to lift it off whatever poor soul had been caught underneath. She grabbed her gauze quickly before heading over, ready to help gods forbid they had been hurt in the fall. 

Open thread!
The last thing I need for Lu’s champion trial audition. Open for merchants and citizens :)

She had met many soldiers in her time. Not in her six years as a princess. Guards yes, they had men and women, trained in brief gentle spars guarding the palace gates, and the kingdom borders. But not true soldiers, no one ready to go to battle, to protect the weak. But Elysium. Elysium had been full of them, many of them her friends, her people. The brotherhood was full of them, assassins, who she healed when needed, though she wasn’t long to them. 

In Crucis she met some, Neeve ara, part of the kings guard, a bubbly naive little creature, sweet as the sap from the trees. Vander himself quite fierce, and many others. Heretic soldiers she met, and hated in crossing. Etain, the wolf queen, herself Io Kairavis main weapon. Cavalier, her beautiful love, who made a name of herself despite having eyes that served no purpose except in which Luvena could lose herself.  

But Lyrus had been the breeding ground for warriors. Long home to the fiercest of the land, filled with fighters who would stop at nothing to defend their beliefs. Who Vega blessed with the fiercest of spirits, and the strongest forms. Galileo, Syrilth, and so many more. Eremurus would have been well on his way to it.  Perhaps she too, would have joined them, had Elysium not been stolen away from them. 

She had met more in Novus still, Galileo, once more. Below Zero, a woman who wished to serve as one.  El Toro, who had managed nothing other than to call her Luvely before getting on his merry way. And more still, so many she had lost count. And still there was no end to their coming and goings. She had met no individuals with more drive then a fighter, no one else with that same passion, whether they used it to harm or protect, it burned through each and every one of them. 

She was determined to burn just as brightly. 

Though flames made her head spin in terror, made her heart plummet to her hooves. She longed to burn as brightly as the torches that lit the night court, when Caligo’s moon rose above them. To let that light shine through the spaces between her ribs, and the gap between her withers. To give everyone else something else to stare at, besides her weary bones. 

The night court was louder at night then it was in the day. People milled around regardless, but at night the markets lit up in sequence with the stars, and the court came to life. Entertainers danced in the streets. In the city square, a woman, with braided hair danced in a circle around the fountain, her tresses dampened by the mist. Others stood to the side, their music bringing the performance to life. One played a violin, a instrument she had learned from mesnyi, though this one was played differently, each movement of the bow releasing a quick note, the perfect tune for footwork. Another sung, lilting lyrics, about the day Caligo had taken the sunlight. 

She settled herself against one of the walls to watch, taken by the performance. She watched others gather too, to come see. Her gaze was caught by an outlier, a large man, who for whatever reason, seemed out of place in the court. Perhaps he came from elsewhere, on his way to the markets. Or perhaps he was from night, and she simply hadn’t seen him before.  Curious, she wove through the crowd towards him, dropping a coin in the violin case on her way. 

“Enjoying the show?” she asked casually, her voice barely singing over the violin.

@Tristan