She walked mostly in silence back to Denocte, thinking quietly about what Metaphor had said. It was so hard for her to believe that love was not a weakness. For so long she had been told that love would weaken her defences, cause her to stumble on the battlefield. She had been told that love would make her hesitate which could end in her death. And yet, here Metaphor was, telling her that love was not a weakness, that it would make her stronger. It would take more than a few words to undo the training that had been instilled in her since birth, but she was willing to try.
By the time they reached the Night Court, Katniss led Metaphor through the rather scenic route there, trying to show him much of what she called home. But soon, she led him into the courtyard of the center of court life. This was the hub for activity, but Katniss had never really been one to participate in some of the day-to-day hustle and bustle of the court or of the markets. She had always been too caught up in her duties as boarder patrol. Perhaps that would always be her nature.
As they meandered through the streets of the Night Court, Katniss led Metaphor towards a small little home, one that she claimed as her own but she was never there. “Come, follow me. I have something to show you.” She pressed her nose against his neck in a comforting, encouraging manner, before she led him into the small little cozy home. A fire flickered in the back of the small home, the smoke rolling out of a hole in the ceiling. And near the fire lay Finnick, the harpy eagle that she found herself bonded to.
Finnick, looking entirely pleased to see Katniss, straightened himself upon his perch. And as Katniss came towards him, the bird jumped onto her back and settled himself as she brought him over to Metaphor. “This is Finnick. He’s like your fox.” The eagle cocked his head ever so slightly to the side, his way of greeting the other. “Finnick, this is Metaphor. He means the world to me and I hope you two can get along.” Katniss was just starting to bond with Finnick and she was finding that the bird could be hesitant of strangers. Perhaps it was because this was new to him as well. Only time would tell.
Metaphor found it easy to walk alongside his beloved in the land which she called home. There was something simpler now between them. Perhaps it was that Katniss was no longer the leader. While he’d been happy to serve beneath her, supporting her cause, there was something to be said for the two of them being commoners in this world. Now, they could leave politics to the regents and focus instead on their relationship, and their happiness. After roaming for so long on his own, nothing sounded more inviting to him than a quiet life with his queen by his side. Metaphor had found his peace.
The Night Court was beautiful. It wasn’t unlike Sydan, The Vale, Elysian… and Metaphor is comforted by the greenery that rolls out like a carpet before him. In the mountains, he breathes in the world around him. He recognizes many of the scents – pine, spruce, fir. Home. There was something so homelike about the land, a sentiment which is only enhanced as Katniss takes him to her house.
It stands inviting on the borderlands, away from the others, just detached enough for the lovers to find some privacy to themselves. As he steps over the hearth, the male is careful to wipe his feet so as not to dirty her home. He feels a quick pang of self-consciousness, but the feeling quickly fades as his chocolate eyes draw in the homey touches of her residence. By the crackling fire, she is even more beautiful than when he’d seen her in the plain… and for what seemed like the dozenth time since arriving at Novus, Metaphor is struck by the notion of how lucky he is. How lucky they both were, to have found each other once more.
You’ve built a lovely home. his voice is quiet and sincere, even as she turns to gather her bonded. Finnick. It was a fitting name for a trustful companion. Nodding to the eagle, he addressed him with a low tone, so as not to startle the bird. It’s a pleasure Finnick, and thank you for watching over my Katniss. A small frown creases his brow though, as his mind drifts toward his own companion. I… I don’t know what happened to Keres. There is a tone of sadness to his revelation, for the fox had been with Metaphor since he was little more than a kit. Maaemo had trusted him to care for the creature, and he’d let her down. I hope he’s alright. Perhaps like the wanderer, the fox would find his way here too. Metaphor could only wish.
Despite the simplicity of her life here in the Night Court, Katniss felt like there was a piece of her soul missing. Yes, she had found Metaphor again and he had filled her heart with so much joy and love, but it was something else that she yearned for. At one point in her life, that hole could be filled by war and battle and protecting. But then, as she grew and mature, that hole was filled by her ability to lead. She loved leading Beta Corvi and even Elysian. Both places had been a gathering of those who had no where else to go. She had offered a life to any who wanted it, and her ability to maintain the peace had been her calling. But here, she lacked that leadership role. Soon, though, she would serve Isra as her battle champion. Perhaps that would fill the hole she so desperately wanted to fill. She said none of this to Metaphor, however, knowing that for this moment, he was happy just being with her. She would have to be happy with that for now.
For now, the mare focuses on showing Metaphor where he can call her home. While it is in the central of the court, it is just far enough away that she doesn’t feel claustrophobic. She can still hear the bugs chirp and feel the wisp of the wind as it blows through the open windows. While she normally could be found sleeping just outside her home beneath the shade of a large oak tree, she was slowly growing used to the more modern lifestyle that the court life offered. Perhaps it was a good thing that she was finally embracing that life. After all, she had to help Finnick heal.
As he leads Metaphor in, she chuckles at his need to wipe his feet. She has never been that sort of individual that cared about keeping the dirt out. There was something far more homey about the dirt-stricken floors. It felt more natural. “You don’t have to wipe your feet. I don’t keep the cleanest home.” Some where known to spend hours cleaning the floors and the walls. Katniss on the other hand, she had far more pressing issues to think about. Cleaning simply was not at the forefront of her thoughts.
But she turns away from him, stepping closer into the home and moving to stand beside the far. As the temperature continued to drop, the fire kept this place relatively warm. The shutters could be pulled during the night to hold in the heat, but during the day it was still pretty enough to have them open.
His words catch her attention and she looks to him with a soft smile. “I hope for us to build it together.” She pauses a moment as she looks into the quaintness of the home. “I want you to live here with me.” Now that she had Metphor back, she was entirely unwilling to let him be anywhere except right by her side. That was where he was supposed to be.
It is then that she introduces Finnick, an eagle which she has only recently found. She feels the bond with him and it is unlike something she cannot describe. It’s much like a mother to her child and yet, like a best friend. This must have been what Metaphor felt with Keres.
Katniss can see the worry and uncertainty that washes over his features when he thinks of the opinionated fox. She steps closer to him, pressing her muzzle against his shoulder in a comforting manner. “I’m sure he’s alright, Metaphor. Perhaps he will find his way here.” She offers him a tender smile, hoping that he might take comfort in it.
There is a comfort for Metaphor in this place, surrounded by the scent of Katniss, surrounded by her things. Small tokens dot the sparse furniture, not enough to make the place crowded, but enough for it to feel homey. He could just imagine cut flowers in a crude vase, scraps of cloth to line the hearth. As the fireglow cascades over them, he is washed with a sense of serenity. For the creature who had wandered far too long, it was good to make it home. As he’d felt before, Metaphor is reminded again that his home was in Katniss – not so much this house – for houses could fall to ruin. His love would remain steadfast though. As his life moved forward, he could see himself with no other.
Metaphor offers his beloved a warm smile at her suggestion that he stay with her. At first, he says nothing, but simply walks toward her and lets his lips trail at her nape. Sighing contentedly, he signals agreement. If you wish it, then I will stay here too. Looking around again, he nods approvingly. I can see your tending touches here, and am honored you wish me in your home too. It’s a lovely sort of place, quiet and comfortable.
His gaze shifts again toward Finnick, and for a moment, Metaphor has a glimpse that the bird is injured. What happened to you, friend? His voice is warm and comforting as chocolate eyes seek his mate’s. How can I help? Though Metaphor’s healing powers were muted here, he was still skilled in such things, and there is a piece of his heart which always aches to see another in pain. If nothing else, perhaps he could concoct a healing salve to ease the bird’s pain. Such a regal creature should not be cooped up for long, and he had a sense that Finnick ached to fly once more.
Keres should be fine. he says, almost suddenly… as if the thought had been swirling in his mind and he spoke it aloud if only to reassure himself. After all, he has Maeemo watching over him. Maaemo will keep him safe. Though he hadn’t spoken the goddess’ name in some time, Metaphor still kept that faith that she was somewhere watching over them. He heard her voice in the whisper of wind in the trees, and recognized her touch in the beauty of nature around them. In some ways, he’d scorned the goddess for punishing them… but he had an understanding with the goddess where others had not. They both understood each other, and the gifts that each could bring.
As if recognizing the name of its’ maker, Metaphor’s orb began to glow a bit brighter behind him, lighting up the home with a silvered sort of magic. It is little more than a hollow reminder now though, of a life once led – of magic, and healing, and a thousand fading names.
When he agrees to live with her, Katniss can almost feel herself let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. She wasn’t sure why she had been so nervous that he wouldn’t accept her offer, but she had. Perhaps she wasn’t sure if he wanted to take things so quickly. In her mind, she had waited far too long to even share her feelings towards Metaphor. It had almost cost her their relationship. She was unwilling to do the same again. So this time, she would have to trust her gut and continue forward. No longer would she hold back from him. She would give him her everything.
She leaned into his soft caresses, feeling the way he so easily helped her to relax. This was her home, Metaphor was her home. “It suits me well enough. I want you to put your own touches on it too. After all, this will be our home.” What did not quite have the courage to say was that she hoped this would be a home to a future child. Katniss was just beginning to feel ready to embark on that journey again.
As the conversation turns towards Finnick, the large harpy eagle looks at Metaphor for a moment before he looks to Katniss. “Do you trust him?” Katniss offers him a nod. “He was injured in a fight with another bird. His wing was injured, but I think most of his injuries are too his leg.” There was a gash along the birds limb, reddened and hardened with dried blood. While Katniss had tried her best to clean the wounds, she admittedly did not have the same healing powers as Metaphor did.
She asked of Keres, knowing the little fox had meant a great deal to Metaphor. His thoughts that the fox should be fine was comforting, although she knew he missed him as he would his own right hand. She nuzzled him softly, returning the kind sentiment. “You will see him again. I know you will.” She might not know when they would meet again, but she had to have faith that they would be reunited.
Eyes looked up at the orb, watching as it glowed quietly in the room, lighting it up with a soft sort of glow. It brought a smile to her lips as she leaned next to him in an almost comforting way. “You will like it here. Isra is a kind soul - fair and she loves to tell stories. I was weary of her at first, but she has grown on me.” She remember the first time she met Isra in the lighting storm, showing her the pool of warmth deep in a cave as they rode out the storm. It was there that she had first met the story-teller. She had been skeptical at first, but with each passing day, she grew to understand the mare a little bit more. “Asterion, king of the Dusk Court, is also a kind soul.” Asterion had been one individual that she could have seen herself happy with one day. But now that she had Metaphor back within her grasps, Asterion would be nothing but a great friend - one she hoped to continue to see as the days wore on.
As Katniss mentions that he should add his own touches, Metaphor smiles and draws some wildflowers from his bag, fixing them into a vessel on the hearth before turning to plait a sunny yellow daisy into her mane. He steps back with a smile, gentle as ever and kindly as he looks around the space approvingly, making a mental note to bring more of his plants in. In a way, you could take the boy out of the forest, but it was harder to take the forest from his soul. As Metaphor had grown older, discovered his penchant for earth magic, and grown in his healing abilities, he had only grown a stronger affinity to nature.
The bird’s quiet breathing draws his attention once more, and he makes quiet eye contact before bowing his head in a submissive gesture so as not to frighten him. Reaching again into his satchel, Metaphor withdrew an ivory hued salve and applied it gingerly to the raw places on Finnick’s leg. He follows the salve with a gauzy sort of bandage, made from plant husk, binding it tightly to stave the infection but not so tight that air cannot get to the wound. There… that should help, but should it continue to bother you, we can try a stronger antiseptic.
He turns back to Katniss then, relaxing into their routine and nodding as she mentions those she has met in these lands. I should like to meet them all, and to offer my services as well. Do you know if there are other healers? Perhaps you would be willing to make an introduction? That was Metaphor, always down to business and ready to jump in with both feet. The red stallion liked to be useful, and he would add his talent where he could, building a home for himself in this new land.
And the courts… I’m not sure that I follow, entirely. There are four? He settles in for a story of her own, eager to learn about Novus and its lore, so he could serve the kingdom with a bit more knowledge, unsure of where exactly he should start.
Katniss can only smile at him when he places the daisy in her mane. She had often wondered if she would like flowers trapped in her mane. As a foal, she rarely had time for beauty. Her mother and father, bless them, had started off her training the moment she was born. She hadn’t been given time to do things to pretty her appearance. Instead, she had just let her appearance run with the wind. After all, war was no time for beauty. But in this moment, she cannot help but appreciate the way the daisy makes her feel. It makes her feel beautiful, something she’s never quite felt before. After all, not many would ever call her beautiful when her body is full of scars.
It was the movement that caught her attention, the way Finnick began to eye Metaphor. Ever since finding him, Katniss had noticed that he was quite defensive. She had to assume he’d been through quite a lot and she hoped as time wore on, he might come to appreciate those around him. “It’s alright, Finnick. He will not hurt you.” Her words were soft, soothing even, as she watches Metaphor come towards him. The tender way at which he was applying the salve and bandage made her heart light. She adored this part of him and hoped that Metaphor might offer her some training. “Can you teach me to heal? I want to heal after I have inflicted pain. The warrior in me knows I must inflict pain, but the more human side of me wants to heal those that are worthy.” She had always wondered what magic this world might give her and she hoped it might be the art of healing. How beautiful would it be to have a warrior who can also heal.
The conversation casually moves onto the others who call Night Court home. At his request for an introduction, she only sighs. “I’m afraid even I have not met everyone.” She had met a few hear and there, but not very many. Then again, with the disastrous storms, the Gods, and now all the new developments, the court had been rather preoccupied.
His question about the courts was easier answered. She offers him a soft smile, and a nod. “yes, four. There is the Dawn Court, Delumine. The Day Court, Solterra. The Dusk Court, Terrastella, and this is the night court, Denocte. There are also a few stranglers that come and go as they please, we call them vagabonds - rogues that just follow where the wind takes them.” She had met one, Pan, a sweet innocent soul that she remembered from her time on Rift. He hadn’t changed much at all.
As he wraps her eagle’s wounds, Metaphor smiles, nodding quietly toward Katniss’ words. It is admirable to wish to heal as well as fight. I will teach you what I can. He continues to work deftly, wrapping the bandage tight as he offers a glimpse into his own past. Long ago, I wanted to be a warrior. I thought it quite an admirable thing, like a gallant knight in a faraway kingdom. Merrick trained me… I don’t know if you ever met him, but he was at the Rift too. Pausing, he had to wonder where his mentor had gone, curious if he might someday find his way to Novus as well. Despite his best efforts though, I never made much more than a passable fighter. So, healing fits my talents much more… I am grateful to have something to give to this place, but find what you do so much more admirable, even if I do worry.
There. He nods to the bird, happy with the quiet chirrup that Finnick gives him, knowing that the trust between them was beginning to build with the simple gesture, even if it would take time. Metaphor was nothing if not patient, and he didn’t mind waiting for Finnick to come around. If anything, he preferred the hesitation. Trusting too quickly could get a creature in trouble. Perhaps that is why the bird was wounded in the first place… but Metaphor may never know the cause of such injuries.
We shall meet them together then, he offers to Katniss, stretching and brushing the dust from his shoulder. I’ve been to Delumine… on the way here. Horrible murders took place there, but I shant let it cloud my judgment of the place. God knows there have been dark acts everywhere. I can only hope that Denocte will be spared. His chocolate eyes level with hers as a determined sort of look squares across his pursed lips. And if you’d ever like to see the rest of Novus, I am happy to accompany you, of course.
Katniss was quiet as he shared his story from Rift, about how he had once wanted to be a warrior. He mentions Merrick and she nodded her head ever so softly. “I met him once or twice.” She remembered the big draft, though she didn’t know much about him. Their conversation had been quick, but it had served it’s purpose. But what happened to the large draft after that conversation was nothing but a mystery to her. There were so many others that she wished she had forged a better relationship with. Perhaps then she could have saved more lives. But then again, how could she have known that Rift would swallow itself whole? There was no way she could have saved everyone, no matter how hard she might have tried.
He moved from his mentor and onto his realization that fighting was not for him. She smiled sweetly at him, her muzzle lowering to brush against his shoulder. “Not everyone is cut out for war.” Not everyone had the stomach for fighting, just like others did not have the stomach for healing either. “I have a confession.” She paused for a moment, hoping to get all of his attention before she would continue. “I would have chosen a different path for myself if it had been my own choosing.” She had been born to fight, trained from the moment she hit the ground. She did not feel like a mighty warrior, just like she never felt like a leader. Being thrust into queen-ship had been a surprise. While she adapted well, it was still not a choice she would have chosen for herself. “I would have loved to be scholar, if I had been given the choice.” One thing that never waivered was her lust for knowledge. Surely she would have been good in a scholarly role, perhaps even teaching the next generation. But none of that was in the cards for Katniss. She had the life she had been given and it was best that she make something of it.
The conversation between Katniss and Metaphor had always been smooth, always flowing from one topic to the next without any thought or hesitation. Perhaps that is what made their relationship seem so effortless. They could easily talk about a thousand things and yet, the conversation flowed without skipping a single beat.
But it was the murders that caught Katniss’ attention. “Murders? In Delumine?” She had not heard of murders. For the most part, Novus was a placid place. People here were innately good. To hear that someone had been murder was out of character for this place. Who might be behind it? Surely not the gods. Had they not taken enough from their citizens?
She sighed softly, knowing that murders in Delumine would only lead to further chaos. He might not like it when she went into battle, but war would come to Denocte, whether or not he was ready. “I would love to travel with you. Perhaps in spring when the flowers are in bloom.” Perhaps once the murders had been solved and whatever was brewing north of here had settled. Besides, Katniss liked the flowers. And little did Katniss know at the present time, but she would not be traveling with Metaphor alone. Perhaps a child would once again fill her womb.
As Katniss admits to him her desire to be a scholar, Metaphor has to smile. It’s not too late to do both. What you learn can only help in your fighting – and what you share with others will build a stronger cadre for everyone. I should like to learn the lore of this place too… perhaps it would help me to figure out its secrets. Novus seemed like a peaceful place, for the most part. He enjoyed the way that the land was broken up into kingdoms, each with its own solar deity. Still too, there was something to be said for gods who didn’t meddle much in the lives of their people. At Ravos, the gods had walked among them. They had challenged their followers, given them quests, followed their lives, and made them pledge fealty to advance. It had certainly been one way to approach life, but not necessarily the only way. He appreciated the differences here, for as much as he loved Ravos, he loved the change as well.
She questions him about the murders, and Metaphor shudders as he remembers. There were two, their bodies broken and left along the riverside… He remembered some of the accusations had been aimed at him, but Metaphor had simply been one to stumble upon an already gruesome scene. Whatever committed the murders was not of this world. There were cloven tracks leading from the scene, and rightful panic among those who live in Delumine. I fear that we will not be safe until the creature is found and brought to justice. And I can only hope it does not find its way here.
In a gesture meant to comfort himself as much as her, he steps forward and buries his lips in her mane, drawing in the steadying scent of his lover. If it does, we need to be ready though, and I will help however I can. It wouldn’t be a bad thing for me to practice fighting as well, at least to defend myself if trouble should befall me. He offers her a wink and smile. After all, who’s to say you won’t always be there to save me… I suppose you could teach me a thing or two about fighting.
He stands beside her, looking out the windows of her humble house as an early snow begins to fall on Denocte. Here, he felt at home – hidden away from the horrors that befell them, and the dangers which would come. Winter is coming, he murmured quietly. And change… change is coming for all of us. We would do well to be as prepared as we can be – and to hope for a brighter spring.
And as the sun sets on the pair, promise lingers between them, untarnished by the ills of this world. Together, they would face whatever would come. Together, they would prevail.
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