There are days, after a long hunt, when he comes to the market and sells his wares. The routine, habitual and familiar, soothes him; but once the ritual fulfills itself, Ira feels overcome by a sort of emptiness. He goes into the woods to hunt—sometimes, for days at at time. Then, he comes to the market to sell the hides of beautiful, remarkable animals.
But after that point—after he has sold them—his purpose escapes him. Instead, Ira feels haphazard, and directionless. This emptiness manifests in many ways and different behaviors; tonight, he finds himself standing beside a statue in the city’s center, where he can watch the comings and goings of other Denoctians. This, too, has become a part of Ira’s ritual; he finds the constant motion and near chaos as soothing as his routine.
Perhaps it is childish of him to paint himself into their stories; into the quarrels of lovers and friends, or the elderly couple that walks down the street. In Denocte, he and his father had always been alone. Ira had trouble reaching out to make friends and spent much of his time alone, in the forest. Some time ago, Saige had begun a journey throughout Novus, exploring the other Courts—and when she left, his whole life quieted.
Ira doesn’t know how long he stands there before a particular man captures his attention. Perhaps it is for his brightness; the gold bangles on his legs, the thick necklace at his throat, or the gleaming rings on and around his face. Ira watches him, recognizes him, and at last says: “You are a soldier.” The statement is the observation of a quiet, watchful young man. He adds, a little curiously: “Why did you choose to be that?”
He had never been adept at small-talk. The fountain fills the silence he does not yet know how to, and Ira attempts to reign in his discomfort.
The wolverine was at it, again. Ira’s friends always surprised him with their naivety of the forest’s animals; they always believed a bear or wolf to be most frightening, most dangerous... when in actuality, the only animal that had ever harmed Ira with malice had been a wolverine.
The pelts were in high demand from a tribe in the Arma Mountains. They had among some of the warmest coat of any animal; nobles in Delumine particularly cared to use them as rugs. Ira, who disliked no animals, came dangerously close to disliking wolverines only on principle. That said, they were his least favorite animal to trap, for this very reason.
He enters Gareth’s home announced, with only a subtle knock on the outside of the cottage door. “Gareth? I’m sorry to bother you again, friend—“ Ira’s voice resounds. He worries, for a moment, the other man might be busying himself about Denocte. Ira clears his throat. He does not enter the house fully, but remains just at the entrance, holding his leg gingerly off the ground.
“Before you ask—yes. It happened again. Those damn wolverines, they’re just—awful. Just plain awful. The meanest creatures to grace Caligo’s mountainside.” By now, Ira is familiar with the warm, almost pleasant sting of pain that resonates up his limb. He knows tonight, when he tries to sleep, it will manifest into a bone-deep throbbing, one that he cannot surmount. He will be up, tossing and turning.
But for now, the pain is only familiar, and oddly so. It grounds him as few things do.
She had told him to try. She had left him thinking, wondering, believing. So many things had been racing through his head, so many self-doubts that he could do this. She didn’t deserve him. Despite the fact that they had more combined baggage than the undercarriage of a cargo ship, Rhone felt bad about potentially dragging another soul down that path, a path he wasn’t sure he could go down. Sure, he could play the part, taking her on date after date, letting her love him, and saying all the right things. But none of that would be real. Rhone wasn’t sure how real he could get with her, so it had taken him time since their last meeting.
But in the end, he owed it to her and to himself to really try.
He might be scared and he recognized that that the butterflies he felt in his stomach were a mixture of nerves and excitement. While he didn’t think it was the best course of action, there was still a part of his heart that yearned to feel those feelings of love and affection again. Was Luvena the girl for him? He would never know unless he tried.
A letter was sent to Denocte, a letter for only her eyes to read.
Luvena,
Come to Terminus Sea on the day of the next full moon at sunset.
-R
Someone wise had told him that the sunset was far more beautiful than the sunrise, something he always watched in Terrastella. He supposed now was good a time as any to view it.
On the day of the full moon, Rhone had set out early. He had work to do in making this date memorable. By the time the sun was just beginning to set, Rhone had prepared a beautiful landscape filled with wildflowers of every species. Cherry blossoms, like the tattoo on his hip, sprouted from the ground and rained petals on the area before him. Weeping willows surrounded the small intimate setting, their tendrils waving in the winds of the sea, beckoning her to follow them.
This setting was just on the edge of the beach and there was very little divider from the fallen cherry blossom petals to the start of the sandy beaches. His headache was still aching, a side effect of using his magic to create such a beautiful intimate place. All around him was lanterns strung between branches to offer some soft light. She did not like fire, so he had to think of some way to ensure they had adequate light in this setting. Blankets and rugs created a pallet softer than a mattress and was decorated with pillows and cushions befitting a king.
And it was here that he waited for her. Eyes looking out at the beginnings of the sunset, the colors started to give way into reds and oranges.
When it rains, it pours. You hadn't minded that much at the beginning, when the air was still hot with the fading evening, and the offering of relief seemed like a gift. The idea you'd made in your head included exploration beneath a canopy of leaves, the sound of rain gently tapping the earth in rhythm, and a dampness laid across your coat that would wash away the sand left embedded in your coat.
Oh, how wrong you were.
Instead, the rain comes with a viciousness that sends you into frustration. The gentle dampness that you had expected has turned into an overwhelming amount of wet, and while it is likely cleansing the sand from your coat in the process, it brings you no happiness. Frustration is currently pulling the muscles in your face rigid, thrusting out an aggravated sigh as your pace picks up into a hurried trot.
This is where we come to view one of your numerous flaws. You have the tendency to dive far too deep into your emotions, to the extent of almost meditation with the seriousness of your attention. You ignore any outer stimuli in favor of your own thoughts, so heavily caught up in things that only relate to yourself to care for anything else. Many of those who have had the opportunity to address it have already taken the effort to ensure that you are aware of it, and in which you are. It is by your own decision, based on pride that encourages ignorance, that you choose to not improve.
It is with that, that you fail to acknowledge the growing density of the trees that you've been hiding in, so heavily focused upon your disdain for this weather. There is never a time where you realize they are, or that the canopy is thickening, that the raining is thinning.
The moment that captures you is when the rain stops altogether, and lays a cool breeze against your wet coat. A feeling, - instinct - grows in the pit of your stomach as you become aware of the fact that you are somewhere, not just anywhere. Walls encircle you with the mouths of hallways spread wide. Discomfort grows.
Where is everyone else?
Surely, a place with walls in this country would attract attention, seeing as you've yet to find the people in any buildings yet. It doesn't bring you relief as you shift your wings to lift them a few inches, pulling them above your shoulders a small amount but never enough to expose your sides to the world. Ears search for anything that mimics yourself, brows tense, and eyes hard as you pull your chin in. One snort, a quick pawing, and you find yourself earning interested, and confused looks from the only companionship available to you. The fox-like creatures work to make you feel as you are the one out of place, acting this way when obviously you've invaded them by your own fault.
No one seems to be coming though, as the discomfort grows to an almost anxiety-inducing level. Standing alone in an open space, you take the option that feels best to you, quickly dipping down a hallway of your choice.
Any anxiety you might've been cultivating now finds itself discarded at the end of said hallway. For you have always loved the stars, fitting them into your earliest memories:
of your earliest memory, your mother a reminder of the nightscape with the stars painted against her, maybe that's why you were so attached to the world's ceiling; of your father, bathed in darkness, and only broken by what you could've believed were eyes broken off from the moon; of Roland, who taught you how to fly, who's skin was so frail against sunlight that she rarely left the Temple beneath the glow of day, who taught you how to map the stars.
Therefore, it shouldn't be much surprise that you are as excited as you are to find a place to learn again, a quick gasp of excitement fleeing from your lips as the last tuft of hair on your braided tail curls over, and flickers in childish amusement. At last, something worth enjoying.
It only further adds in your good mood as you're fast to find the pillows. It's been far too long since a proper bed, or at least something akin to the comforts you'd grown accustomed to. And after some time spent dragging them about as you please, either by a telekinetic tug, or by a determined grip with teeth, desperate for pleasure once more.
Having at last approved of your makeshift bed, you toss yourself into it, and begin the steady process of removing the braid from your tail.
@any / speaks / a softer theme to this thread, come enjoy yourself!
enough with the lies tell me one
more time my blood your line is this you inside
A
routine had been born ever since coming back to Denocte. That is, she would wake at the evening and wait for the sun to set. Then, she would wander the mountains for a bit. Watching over old herd members as quietly as possible and never revealing herself to them... Done. Now, she found herself in the prairie.
No medicine needed to be mixed. No herbs needed to be plucked. She had caught a rat earlier and fed, still uneasy about feasting on her fellow equines in Novus. The bat unfurled her wings and made do with the vermin, because that is what she felt she deserved. After casting a vote for the newest sovereign of Night, Salome found she cared little about the result. No doubt it was a popularity contest she never involved herself in.
No doubt, the people would cry their new leader's name joyfully. Caligo would go back to the heavens from whence she came. Nobody would say anything else. Everything would quiet again. It was a boring routine. A tired routine. She hoped her vote counted among change, and not some rudimentary machine. Nosing along the grasses of this prairie, Salome made note of local flora to collect later. She flickered her eyes to the form of an approaching being.
A field of gold. Lit by sunlight golden. In it Lovis stood haloed, allowing it to paint him too. His heart and soul were spun of gold. His voice was of silver.
"Cedoc," Lovis' spoke to the golden morn. A name offered to the gods, so that they may too remember the boy that it called. Lovis knew them to be present, for the mist; breath of gods invisible, lingered. He hoped Oriens was one amongst them.
His son's grave was humble. Time had taken for itself the grandeur the burial had once been decorated by. Flowers planted had long since grown free, reaching for the companionship of their cousins wild. The stone that had Cedoc's doings in life inscribed upon it, had given in to the desire of the elements, to nature's yearning to remove all that had not been drawn by her own hand. Split and crumbled the grave marker called to passerby with the riddles broken sentences made.
Lovis did not have need to see the words made whole. They were carved into his own being. As though if one were to look hard enough at him, they may find the celebration of a being he had so loved, spelled out by the freckles upon his own flesh. If they just looked hard enough. He carried Cedoc, his beloved son, with him no matter how the time passed.
Never had Lovis claimed the boy, nor the man Cedoc grew to be, but he had known. They both had. Too alike they had been to ever deny the connection. Lovis lay himself against the stone and pulled out a book. Readily the book bore its pages to him, worn by many a hand. The tale writen within nearly lost to time. Each year it became harder to find a copy. Each year he paid a bit more to obtain it.
He began to read from its pages. Brittle was his voice. It was Cedoc's birthday. Every year he would seek out a copy of the same story, one that Cedoc had loved as a boy and then as a man, and he would read it to him. Unmoving until the tale was done.
And there she stood, a dying star pulling in those around her like a black hole.
Time was irrelevant, as slow as it was, while the demigoddess watched as those before her slowly - some almost gingerly - step up and regarding each with a pious stare. First, there was @Cicatrix - an immortal, a Star Walker - whose enigmatic appearance was as incomprehensible as Caligo's own, yet so much more vivid. They shown bright, a beacon - soft but warm. The demigoddess regarded them with a gentle gaze but for a moment: "Cicatrix, you may have no physical eyes but you see what Denocte is at its core: A home for all, and for wayward souls."
And then, little @Araxes - how long has she walked Novus' soils? Caligo remembers the day when she was not bay and white and dripping gold, but white and tenderly spotted black with soft, small wings. Cryptically: "Araxes, it has been a long time since you have walked these soils. Tempus wonders where you went."
Oh, the consuming void of her eyes, of her lips, of the wild tendrils of her mane softened just a little bit when she regarded @Willoughby. Although not a Denoctian and although Caligo was fiercely protective of her own... "Is a Vagabond not a lost soul in some way, Willoughby Lovelace?" a twinge of a smile at the corner of the demigoddess' lips. Such a statement was undeniably of a deity's mindset, thinking that those who do not believe are innately lost.
Then, an ombre and gold wolf boy they called @Renwick. The imposing swath of darkness that was Caligo shifted, her head dipped to regard and peer at the eloquent, braided man. "You are certainly are intuitive; you already know that Solterra and Terrastella mourn alongside us, don't you?" Sage words and gilded stare.
There was @Ira then, cutting through the crowd like his sharp gemstone horn may cut through an adversary... if he was any more of a man to give in wildly to anger. "Your father brought you to Denocte, a home away from his own. You, and I, owe much to him for that." She knew - knew Ira's father was gone, knew of the flames that had licked the night sky, knew that deep in his heart Ira held onto a chip of resentment. Caligo's voice, hushed and only able to be heard in Ira's own ear... as if whispered over his shoulder: "The pyre was beautiful."
And the visionary! Oh, how @Kassandra had ran, fueled by a siege and surge of adrenaline through the halls of Caligo's home. But now she approached with almost nervous steps, and the demigoddess fondly regards her. "Your visions are vivid and powerful. One day, you will need to tell me the words I spoke and pictures I painted."
The last - but certainly not least - to step forward was @Katniss. Caligo's heart ached between the voids of her ribs - for she remembers the night that Metaphor was ripped from Katniss and knowing Kibou, from his fellow Denoctians and everyone. It was a day that her heart rang with pain and fury and anger, forbidden from interfering by her Father himself. But all that did not define Katniss in the demigoddess' eyes - rather, Caligo remembered her strength, in the times immediately after leading to now. So she stood, quietly as the champion of battle spoke to her fellow Denoctians - and only when she was done, did she greet her: "Words are as strong as ever, Katniss."
There was heartache and passion in the growing crowd before her; the impact Morrighan and her daughter had on Denocte was undeniable. Each of those who stepped up to offer themselves to the Court, Caligo felt more and more... comfortable. Eyes made of eons of stars and glittering diamonds swept across them one last time, and it was then that she realized the choice was not hers to make after all.
Her head was raised, the wild swath an untamed, beautiful mess that framed sometimes-cruel, sometimes-caring eyes. She looked at them all and motioned for them to come to her:
"Cicatrix, Araxes, Willoughby, Renwick, Ira, Kassandra, Katniss - come forward."
And with the Sovereign-hopefuls before her, she turned her attention to the rest of her Court. "Denoctians!" Her voice, commanding and ever-present, called forth even those who were not yet here to the Court's center.
"Today you will choose who leads you, us, onto the next path. Choose wisely, my children."
Rules to Vote
Voting closes at 11:59P EST on 01/18/21
Before voting or if you are part of this nomination, please read all the below. If you have any questions/concerns, don't hesitate to ask!
Regarding this vote:
When voting, please read each characters audition - both IN CHARACTER and OUT OF CHARACTER portions!
Keep in mind when voting, we are looking for a character who embodies Denoctian ideals, will have substantial enough activity to help drive the court in a positive direction, and solid ideas to bring to the court in terms of events, planning, etc.
You must use your Night Court Court character account to cast your vote - ONLY Denoctians can vote here!
Do not use your OOC account to vote!
One vote total per member, even if you have multiple Night Court characters.
Those nominated may not vote for themselves. They are allowed to vote for a different character, if they wish.
Failure to follow the above rules will result in your vote being nullified.
You can freely post in this thread if you'd like to interact with Caligo or the nominees!
Character Requirements for those Nominated and/or who are chosen:
If you win the member vote and have another character in a Regime position (Sovereign, Regent, Emissary), that character must step down before your winning character can step up. This must be completed within 2 weeks.
If you have entered another one of your own characters into a different Court's Sovereign auditions, you may not win both. In the event both your characters are the number one pick, you will need to choose which character/court you prefer. The one that you pass up will be given to the runner-up.
General rules and requirements regarding Sovereigns:
Regarding Sovereign vulnerability: Sovereigns will be deemed Vulnerable if you make 10 IC posts or less per month (this means that it will be extremely easy for anyone to win a Challenge against you), and posted absences only make you immune for 2 weeks.
Sovereign activity requirements: To promote activity within their respective Courts, the Sovereign must setup 1 IC event every other season.
Once a Sovereign is selected and your profile approved, your first duty will be to create a Court Rules thread in your respective Court forum. Read this thread for things you can do as Sovereign.
The radiance that emanated from Oriens illuminated the court of his children.
He felt the pain, the mourning, the loss, and the strife. It collected like a deep well, pooling in the vacant spot beneath his heart and between his lungs. It was not his place to meddle in the affairs of mortals, but he could not help but feel a choking sensation of guilt and sorrow building up at the crux of his jaw.
But he stood, steadfast. One by one, they approached.
First, it was @Atlas, one of the neighboring Terrastella's scholars. Just as Atlas felt the key click perfectly into place in the lock of his soul, Oriens watched the past as Atlas descended from the oasis and sand dunes that wreaked havoc upon his second life as he fled from his first, as he fled from Azimal... and the god of knowledge's gaze softened with the scholar's resolve. "You have come far from your past and who you were, Atlas."
And then... studious, stoic @Andras ‐ Oriens could not forget his emissary! A strong soul... strong in some ways more positive than others, with an almost reckless drive that was not overall common among Court emissaries. Oriens knew that Andras would be there in some sense or breadth of the word - if only to support those who stepped forward, but something inside him knew the emissary would step forward himself. "Dawn would be honored, Andras."
Oh, then there was @Entia.... a whiplash of attitude and tone, and the god acknowledged him with a firm but cool smile. He felt the scrutiny and felt the stallion's disdain, although it did not cause him to falter. "Is knowledge not brought forth by choice? I know you've passed through many lands, Entia. Your journey is surely a unique one."
Sweet, feral little @Eirene - the rosey peach of her hooves, horns, and nose a tender reminder of the good, empathetic things that resided within the Delumine, nestled between the rot and decay. "Tell me, young Eirene - what herbs do you grow? Some day, I will need to visit your garden." A day to sit among the flowers, herbs, and plants - to breathe in life.
But where Eirene grew the life that nourished the court in her own quaint garden, @Sol Bestiam and the flames of his hooves were everything you would not initially expect from Delumine. But despite the dark coal that swathed his coat, the gold that licked at his wings, hooves, hair, and eyes... Sol embodied more of knowledge and the Dawn court than one might realize. His past - angry and resolute - was something he learned, grew from; in his experiences and knowledge, he moved past who he once was. "You too have come so very far, Sol Bestiam," he smiled fondly.
And last but not least, @Seir. When he returned to Delumine, the masked man was not who he expected or had once known - the inky, jet black of his hide and the bone-white mask upon his face a testament to where life has taken him. He dropped his head so his gaze met the masked Deluminians, the pulsing light from the orb illuminating the crevices within the stallion's mask: "Seir, my friend. I am happy to see you once more; the plants, the forest leans towards you, do they not?" a tepid smile, before he lifted his head up once more to regard the rest of his children who had gathered.
"Atlas, Andras, Entia, Eirene, Sol Bestiam, and Seir - step forward to me," he instructed.
And when they did.... "Delumianias!" came his call and a hush fell over the court once more.
"It is time; who do you feel is the best fit to take up the mantle of Sovereign?"
Rules to Vote
Voting closes at 11:59P EST on 01/18/21
Before voting or if you are part of this nomination, please read all the below. If you have any questions/concerns, don't hesitate to ask!
Regarding this vote:
When voting, please read each characters audition - both IN CHARACTER and OUT OF CHARACTER portions!
Keep in mind when voting, we are looking for a character who embodies Deluminian ideals, will have substantial enough activity to help drive the court in a positive direction, and solid ideas to bring to the court in terms of events, planning, etc.
You must use your Dawn Court Court character account to cast your vote - ONLY Deluminians can vote here!
Do not use your OOC account to vote!
One vote total per member, even if you have multiple Dawn Court characters.
Those nominated may not vote for themselves. They are allowed to vote for a different character, if they wish.
Failure to follow the above rules will result in your vote being nullified.
You can freely post in this thread if you'd like to interact with Oriens or the nominees!
Character Requirements for those Nominated and/or who are chosen:
If you win the member vote and have another character in a Regime position (Sovereign, Regent, Emissary), that character must step down before your winning character can step up. This must be completed within 2 weeks.
If you have entered another one of your own characters into a different Court's Sovereign auditions, you may not win both. In the event both your characters are the number one pick, you will need to choose which character/court you prefer. The one that you pass up will be given to the runner-up.
General rules and requirements regarding Sovereigns:
Regarding Sovereign vulnerability: Sovereigns will be deemed Vulnerable if you make 10 IC posts or less per month (this means that it will be extremely easy for anyone to win a Challenge against you), and posted absences only make you immune for 2 weeks.
Sovereign activity requirements: To promote activity within their respective Courts, the Sovereign must setup 1 IC event every other season.
Once a Sovereign is selected and your profile approved, your first duty will be to create a Court Rules thread in your respective Court forum. Read this thread for things you can do as Sovereign.
Together, they traverse far into the mountains, beyond what might be wise if one were not as familiar with the forest as he. Around them, the silence of the woods seems ominous; Ira prefers to hunt during the day, trapping and laying snares. The hot summer weather, however, prevents Ira from performing many of his tasks during the day. The animals simply aren’t out until dusk or dawn, and he has become more comfortable with living through the night, beneath the stars. For Ira, the slopes and deer-trails are more familiar to him than most friends. The scent of the woods itself, with moss and ivy bursting underfoot, always reminds Ira of life.
Ira had invited another with him for the first time in—well, in longer than he could remember. The knight, traveling through Denocte, had captured not only Ira’s attention, but his curiosity. The questions arose nearly unbidden. What do you love about being a knight? Where do you go? Tell me of your order? Some answers were forthcoming, and given freely; other questions took on a note of severity, and Ira made certain to ask them with more tact in the future.
When the conversation changed to Ira, he had been abashed—and perhaps a little ashamed—to admit he was merely a hunter. He provided Denocte and other Courts with fur cloaks for winter, deerskin, and valuable commodities of bone, sinew, fat, and more. The meat went to companion animals or the rare meat-eating horse, kelpies and the like. Ira had always believed it a necessary service, if not the most ideal—and, anyways, it kept him out of the city and instead in the woods, which he loved.
Ira had been surprised at Tristan’s enthusiasm over the matter and when he offered—or dared, he thinks—for Tristan to accompany him, the knight had not shied from the opportunity.
“You hear how quiet it is?” Ira whispers, into the night. He stands abreast Tristan in the opening of a small clearing, where the stars are fully visible. They are sprinkled there, far from light pollution, and shine with a brightness that is not just silver, but a multitude of colors. Ira does not look, however; he only listens, his ears flicked forward. “Usually when the forest is this quiet, even at night, it means there is something else happening—either predators nearby, or a storm rolling in. It was abnormally hot today…” Ira muses, before silencing himself.
He would not be surprised if the knight has realized, by now, that Ira speaks of hard facts to keep from flirting (impulsively, brashly, surprising Tristan as much as himself). Not that they have spoken particularly often, or seen one another nearly as much as Ira would like—
The hunter’s thoughts break off suddenly when a bright meteor streaks across the sky. He would have thought nothing of it, if not for the roaring of the rock overhead, or the way that he pushes Tristan down behind a large rock and hunkers there. The light of the meteor is so bright the clearing blazes with it; Ira can see it blazing even with his lids tightly closed. Once it passes, his ears ring and his eyes burn. He finds himself nearer to Tristan than he would have been otherwise and he pulls back shyly once the danger has passed. “I—“ Ira begins, as if to comment on something else. Then his eyes flash, and he follows the trajectory of the meteor. “I have never seen anything like that. Let’s go investigate it?”
That fearless daring returns to the hard, moonstone cut of his eyes. Ira challenges the knight and then darts ahead, across the singed clearing. He can see, in the near distance, just how close they had come to the meteor. In the distance, a tree cracks and, on fire, falls to the forest below.
There, before him, was Terrastella. The Dusk Court opened. From one to another, he had drifted. Learning, seeing, Taking ass and kicking names - wait, no. Just taking names. No ass-kicking around here. Not yet. Not his own, not others. Plenty of time for that, he muses. White and red eyes shine bright. He cannot help but smile as the thought trickling down made its way. The image of just a huge boot kicking ass. Just a little bit of punishment, right?
He had seen others. It was just time to be here, after wandering the other realms. Entia, despite being of the Dawn, was learning. There was really quite a fair bit left to learn though, as there always was. Even when he had been King of Ilir, there had been something new almost every day. What a venture that had been too, he thought.
And so long ago now.
He meandered now. Seze at his flank. She had not been there for Liridon. Oblivion had been where he’d found her. Namtar had enjoyed her presence, finding the scaled beast a creature Entia did not deserve. Yet here she was. Wicked claws, saw-like teeth.
If Entia died, he’d probably wind up her meal. He glanced at her with that thought.
The glint in her eyes confirmed it.
“I am going to need to get some kind of insurance against you for that one. I’d like to make sure I’m burned, rather than wind up dino poop thank you,” he remarked. Seze snorted.
“No, really….” he trails off.
In the Dusk Court now, Entia stopped. He looked around, no idea where he was but ready to learn. Ready to find out what this place was about.
