The Dusk Court citadel loomed imposingly before him much as Delumine's capitol did, every bit as ominous in its unspoken cultural gravity as it was lovely to behold. Entombed within its stones were the spirits, voices, and intrigues of all that had come before. He could almost imagine he heard them, if he but turned his ear just right to the wind.

Martin of all individuals knew that finding the answers you seek sometimes requires a significant investment of time and energy, and is not without its risks. He'd never been frightened away by the cost and, once set on a path, he was particularly difficult to dissuade from it. Thus it was that he had traveled South from the questions raised beneath the Dawn Court's shadow, across Amare Creek, and into a land that felt somehow more alien to his heart. While undoubtedly lush with natural beauty and intrigue, it lacked the draw that had called him to Delumine. This southern territory was not "home"; the more cautious and insular edges of his personality grumbled their protests in his mind.

Not without cause, of course. Martin had no way of knowing that his intrusion would not be met with open hostility - only the desperately optimistic hope that his honest desire for understanding would win out over any preconceptions that he was an enemy.

The golden unicorn approached the Court's ancient parapets, donning his fearless wonder as armor as he went to battle against his own damnable ignorance.


@Rannveig

It had been so quiet. The beating of her own heart seemed to fade out into distant sounds as everything slowed to a halt. Those she had come to know were mere grass blades that bent against the soft push of windy breaths; they became nonexistent, and she alone. In the midst of calling all of her court to heed to her claims there were none of other gods' believers to cross her path. There were no indications of life anywhere save for the brush of nature's kiss upon her skin.

How complacent with silence their world had become.

But she was not content with silence; she was a rough, battle-built creature and only the clamor of others living their lives could satisfy her. She swore to protect all those held in her arms, yet she could not protect those who did not exist. She was faced with a stalemate and she was determined to break clean through it. The quiet of the court kept her moving about the tower, a restless wolf in search of her pups. It was only the dark mass that blotted out the sun pouring into the tower's entry halls that brought her attention toward the door, a silhouette masked with day's light. It grew in size as it approached; she moved off to assist in closing the distance between them, brisk yet controlled walk delivering her to the entryway. A single snort (rather of excitement than proper greeting) would be her first interaction with the stranger. Then her second, "Welcome," a smile playing softly at her lips around the roughness of her voice.

And all our problems make us powerless

His intrusion had predictably not gone unnoticed for long. From inside the Court's shadowed entry hall emerged a mare with the night sky splashed across her painted flesh. The Dawn Court had been almost suspiciously vacant save Rostislav, who by his behavior obviously did not "belong" there. This mare moved with the effortless self-confidence of a creature in its element.

Martin slowed just enough to buy time to read Rannveig's intentions, loosening up as it became apparent he was not about to be sent home with a basketful of painful raspberries for his presumptuousness. Bobbing his head lightly in greeting, the gilded stallion met her smile with one of his own. "I am Martin, from the north."

By his mother's reckoning - and, as far as he had ever seen, this particular bit was sound - one of the easiest ways to plant the seeds of trust was to introduce oneself thus. He might not know what Delumine was, but she almost certainly did, and starting trouble after giving her even that much information would have been incredibly stupid. That he had only just arrived there made little difference to the unicorn: he intended to live there if he could, for as long as he could.

His sea-blue eyes drifted over the star-marked mare's shoulder to the court behind her, tracing the contours of its exquisite stonework with wistful curiosity.

"What is this place? There is nothing like it where I was born."


@Rannveig