A raven had gone ahead of him, with a piece of parchment tied to its leg with only one thing written on it: Midnight. Three days hence. A single flower petal was crushed and rolled up in the parchment, the only sign as to the location of the meeting place.

But they were twins; Toulouse knew he would understand.

So he waded through the flowers absently, green eyes looking over them with disinterest. They had all turned grey in the darkness, their glass petals whispering every time two touched, like dancers trading off their partners, gossip running rampant among their ranks. He would do anything to speak their language, to know the secrets they kept. 

When the familiar figure appeared - alone, not another soul in sight - he went to him. The flowers parted like a river about him, and he swore their whispers grew louder in anticipation.

“Brother.” One of them greeted first. In the shadows surrounding them, it was impossible to know who was whom. Perhaps they were the same person all along, two halves of a whole. 


@toulouse
notes

“Brother.” The other greeted in turn, never missing a beat, a smile slipping onto his lips. Toulouse smiled back, each of them wolfish, each of them reveling in the sight of each other. “We have much to talk about.”

And talk they did. Well into the night, until the stars reigned supreme in the sky above them, and the gemstones reflected their lights back into the sky. Their bodies turned silver in the moonlight, surrounded by a field of silver flowers, the world a gray backdrop all around them. Identical ghosts, heads tilted so close their horns touched and twined together above their heads, voices a quiet murmur meant only for each other ears.

They didn’t have a lot of time; they spoke quietly, but they spoke quickly. One had to go east come sunrise, the other west. 

Until finally there was nothing left to say, and they prepared to part once more. Until…

“One more thing.”

“Oh?” His eyes were full of light and interest as he turned around. 

“The Red Rose. She’s at the White Scarab, and wears a twig crown with gemstones hanging from one end.” His twin stomped a hoof at the flowers, watching them ripple like a sea of glass. 

Their eyes met slowly, identical pairs of green gazing back at one another. For a moment neither one spoke; the wind played with the caramel curls of their hair, the flowers laughing all around them. Toulouse didn't need words to understand the look in his brother's eye, a look he did not like.

But still he nodded, and each of them disappeared. 


@toulouse
notes

Break me down and build me up

'Cause I love the adrenaline in my veins

She had frequented the Steppe some time before, back when she was new to the lands began to learn of the territories; she was told there in the open field surrounded by far-away mountains was the battle ground, and she took to it like a bird to a nest to raise its chicks. She was decently well versed in the art of battle since her time in Heimsterra had taught her everything she needed to know--Jarl, above all, trained her enough to beat their best warrior. And so she often went to the Steppe to wait for challengers, or brought the young or inexperienced from the Dusk Court to teach them basic skills; she believed each should be able to hold their own in a fight, and she was all too pleased to help.

But since her return after her last time in Veteris, everything felt different. She made rounds through the lands again in a sort of effort to refamiliarize herself with Nouvs. It was, after all, the only land she had left to call home. With the fall of her Winter Court she was left stranded. Without home, without purpose. So she wandered to the places she knew once, drinking them in, feeling a little more at peace.

But when she crossed into the borders of the Bellum Steppe, her trot sending her hair waving behind her and a coat of wolf fur strapped tightly to her dual-colored body clinging close, she pulled up short. The grass glistened and twinkled like stars set against the backdrop of the moon's throne, but it wasn't night and there should have been no stars there. The worn out patches were fights had broken down the ground were gone, and in their place was a thousand different flowers all crafted from crystal. The sight made her heart race, her striking teal eyes cutting across the landscape with worry; the atmosphere was heavy with magic, and it hung around her like honey as she pushed through. Slowly she began to walk forward once again, always looking down, down at the sharp-edged flora that clinked against her legs.

She knew what Vespera had done. She knew that she had put Dusk through torturous 'trials' and called them tests, made them sink or swim to show that they were worthy. She wanted to scream, to claw her way through to Vespera and ask her what she was thinking, what could possibly posses her to treat her kingdom that way? Rann was angry, her pulse quickened and blackened, and she wondered if those glass flowers were part of her doing to, if they would have some sinister effect on the rest of Novus at the goddess's hand too.

She didn't get far into the fields when she stopped at turned back, disgusted with her goddess. Her body glided through the path she had come; before stepping beyond the threshold she passed through, she plucked one multicolored flower to study it later. She would find out if this was Vespera's doing.