Noctii does not bother Isra as she wanders from her side, her sovereign drifted like a ghost between these crumbling walls. Instead, the golden mare admires the whimsical nature that seems to follow, and embrace Isra when it is given the chance. The admiration stirring inside soon turned to fondness, and her bitterness was swept away in the tides that Isra brought with her. Noctiilucent suddenly realizes that she is staring at Isra, with a smile upon her face. She is quick to hide this fact when Isra turned to face her again, lips coated in the dust of ruin. A sneeze erupted from the bay mare and she joins Isra in her laughter. Their laughter soon floods the forgotten walls, and Noctii wonders if their laughter would remind the walls what warmth felt like. It was useless to get sentimental about such things, but places like this made her sad. It bothers her, that these walls sit, and rot with time. They were sinking stones or an ancient relics in the oceans of life that surrounded them.  Isra speaks gently to her, but she still feels a pang of rejection ring through her. Perhaps that is what happens to those who spill themselves out into pools. Eventually, they will not reach the edges of the space they exist within. Noctiilucent smiles to her and gives her a gentle nod, turning her head as Isra approaches her. 

The warmth of Isra soothes the sting of her rejection, no matter how small it is. Noctii smiles as Isra tugs her mane and reminds herself in the silence that she was not rejected for all. Her Queen would not have humored her approach if she was unwelcome. This sadness that permeated her existence was a familiar demon, but it was not like her to be so crippled by it. Once she had been a warrior, so what was she now? Isra poured her own struggles with her past, though vague it provided the answers that she had asked for. Noctii couldn't keep running and expecting anything to change, she would have to shape her world as Isra suggested. It came as no surprise that the dreamy bay had encountered similar struggles to herself. They were one and the same to an extent. Noctii felt in her bones that she would relate to no one here. They would not understand Reth, nor how she could do the things she did. Noctii ignores the bitterness that overtakes Isra for a few moments, and although she is curious, she does not press the issue.  "I never used to be this way. Or perhaps I did and was just too distracted to realize it. I fear that if I try to shape my own world or destiny that I will surely crumble all that was built around me. That I will destroy all who support me. I was born a disease, and for that, I have paid greatly." Noctii explains to Isra, but her words do not flow from pity, the flow from the pain of experience.

Isra invites her to share her story, and she feels relief and hesitation rush through her. This will not allow her to go back, and hide who she was. Noctii wants nothing more than to be free from her chains of burden, they only hold her back from embracing her new life here.  "Thank you, Isra. I'd gladly share any night with you. But it is an honour to call you my friend. To know that you are not just my leader." She speaks quite fondly, and her features soften as she peers a the bay.  "I am a daughter of Reth. If you have heard of my homeland, I won't be surprised. The reputation of Reth extends to many domains, as they hark they are the Children of the Sun. I used to think the gods were dead, that they deserved no thought or care. But they are very real, and they are very dangerous. I was given a great many gifts upon my birth by Solomnus. He painted me 'with the beauty of the sun, and a love that burns like fire' they said." She pauses, as the information she was about to thrust upon Isra would be great.  "I am one of the few who have met any god from Reth. There have only been four like me in the history of my homeland. I met the very god who created me, Solomnus came to me in a time where my anguish threatened to consume me. Our Sun was Xamis, the father of all our deities. He killed my only and closest friend to punish me for my hatred. I ruined much, destroyed so many things. I tainted and corrupted once happy families in my youth. For I too was consumed with such rage. I was blessed by these gods as much as I was cursed by them. I had no control over my emotions, and it was said to trouble even Xamis." Noctii pauses again, trying to catch her breath to weave the tale of her horrible history.

 "Xamis set me on the path to redemption, and I was comforted only by Cydphy, the goddess of Spring. Solomnus was the only one to visit me during my punishment. I had earned the scorn and contempt of many gods. There were few who supported me. I became the Ashes of the Sun in title the day that I earned the punishment of the Sun. I could not bear the pressure, and the sadness consumed me. It chased me here, to Denocte. I still cannot forgive the gods for taking the life of a dear and precious friend. He had been our King, and I had nearly brought ruin to Reth. I am not proud, I brought great shame to my family. I once was a warrior, and now I can only breath from the bones of my former shell. I don't know who I am without them, those gods. I hate them. I hate the demands of all the gods. It wasn't I who begged for creation, but my existence was meant to serve them. " She breaths heavily now and the struggle of sharing this tale is obvious. It strains her, and the shame is so apparent in her frame. It hangs around her like a cloud bloated with rain. The bitter pain she feels seeps back in, and tears flow from her lids. She blinks harshly to clear her vision, but she cannot forget the pain of losing her closest friend.  "I still feel too much, but it is passion that rivals that of Xamis. Or so I am told. Perhaps this is a curse those gods gave to me. I still fear they will arrive here, with the fury of the sun burning across Denocte. I fear that my sister will follow close on my heels, her title is the Wrath of the Sun for good reason. If you are unfamiliar with Reth, they are a heavily militaristic society. I still feel the white-hot rage of my youth, but I have nowhere to channel it but myself. I am so sick of moping around, I just want to mean something to anyone."




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She leans into each touch Isra offers her, though the collision of their skin is absent of warmth. Her tears vanish beneath the gentle, bitter touch of her queen. There is a silence between them, almost as deep as the fury that has buried itself deep inside. When her voice drifts away like the receding tides, it is only then that Isra speaks. Isra promises the gilded maiden safety. She feels the rot and fury creeping up. Protection, for her, would only come upon the heels of fire and ash. Instead, she wants to trade ash for sin, and skin for bone. It comes tightly wound in the cloak that belongs to death. It comes only when her sister breathes no more. Shock trickles through her veins as her Queen speaks again. The maiden of ash wonders if the house has as many worlds in its wall as she did. This gracious gift is one she will forever cherish. "But will the moon love me as fiercely as the Sun? Will she look upon me as her own child? Or shall I live in her shadow, as she was forced to live in the shadow of the selfish Sun?" Noctii breathes to Isra, her doubts spill from her lips like ash. Her words are stained with the rot of corruption that has taken her identity hostage. "I don’t even know where to begin thanking you. I have little to offer you, though my admiration for you, in all your bitter reveries and wise words, will not cease. You have my ceaseless loyalty, for this is all that I can offer to you. I will have to return to you soon, for I also have a gift for you. It is another memory from my wild youth, for I robbed the temples of their gods, and I have taken something symbolically precious."
 
Noctii is not proud, but there is still the fanfare of triumph hidden in her words. When Isra addresses the gods of Reth as hers, she shakes her head with a bitter laugh. Her laugh comes as cold as a clear winter night. As bitter as the promise that Isra makes to show them how cold the ire of the moon could be. "No, they are not my gods. They have been dead long before I came here, and they will remain in the ash and rot of their wrath and sins. Or I will bury them beneath my own rot and sin. We can show them how cold, and vicious a bite she has. They will know the cold fury that burns in my heart. Efphion is no sister of mine, and she will come. But she will find nothing for her here." Her words bled from the ink of her soul, and the true beast she was surfaced. Gone were her chains of sadness, exchanged for a gilded sword made of ire. It was made of the promises they made. It was forged before the audience that Isra had called. It was the dawn of a new era for the one who remained as the leftovers of the Sun’s fury.
 
The fury that was saved for her selfish, violent Sister. No, for the one who wore the disguise of a sister. What a bitter end for the former daughter of the Sun, now she was the daughter of Night. She will find favor with Caligo, just as she has found love for her Queen. Isra’s fury is cold when she next speaks. Her musing in title, the Wrath of the Moon. The smile she gives is not one that is absent of fury, but Noctii is still a wild and furious weapon. For too long she has wept and bled for the loss of her home. There is no more grief for her here, not with Isra’s blessing and friendship. "Perhaps, you will be the cold blade that strikes in the night. Wise, furious, and unforgiving. No, I don’t think you will just be the Wrath of the Moon, but the Blade of the Moon. Someone who is both beautiful, and dangerous. Someone who will teach this world just what fury really is. Not just someone, but you, Isra. Think of what the moon and the ashes can accomplish. We’ll bring this world to its knees, and they will weep and beg for mercy. This too I promise." Her own fury and resentment swims, but it is not for Isra. No, for she feels only a deep love for her Queen. "To dust and ashes with our enemies.”




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