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+---- Thread: [AW] dreams, bruises, steel (/showthread.php?tid=3231)
dreams, bruises, steel - Mateo - 02-26-2019
Ulric requested (or was it a demand?) traveling in groups no smaller than three. But it was just before dawn, the best time for a flight, and the rest of the court was tangled in dreams. Anyway he was untouchable in the air, at least in Delumine. There were no Solterran teryrs here and no resident dragon for at least the past hundred years. More importantly he was fast and nimble and could outfly damn near anything with wings.
Luckily for him, he's never had to put his money where his mouth is.
So Mateo leaves on his own. He spreads his large wings and soars up and up in ever larger spirals. Dawn creeps into the eastern sky with a bruised blush. It is his favorite hour, and as the sun opens its eyes Mateo is gliding peacefully into the new day. Novus unfolds beneath him beautifully.
Somewhere below, a dark figure moves across the plains towards the forest.
Maybe he should alert the regime (are they even awake yet?) but then he'd lose track of the stranger. He circles overhead one, twice, deliberating what to do. Then he gently glides down to earth.
He lands at the outskirts of the forest and catches up to the dark stranger in a few long strides. "Hello!" He should probably, definitely be a little more wary of strangers, but here is his logic-- it was a beast that killed and ate those poor men, not a horse. The proof was in the footprints. And what's more, it simply is not in his nature to be suspicious. He hasn't yet learned how trust can be used to wound more surely than a blade. Mateo stops her because be's concerned for her, not by her. "Haven't you heard? There's a murderer on the loose. Its best not to travel alone, specially in the forest." He straightens his shoulders, tucks his large wings at his sides, and tries to look as regal as he can. It is no easy task, for the stallion has a youthful softness to him that did not want to be hardened into something serious. "I'll escort you," he offers graciously. "Now... where exactly are you going?"
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AW but @Huntington first please <3
RE: dreams, bruises, steel - Huntington - 02-26-2019
![[Image: by_briallu_by_wockish_dc864sa-pre.png]](https://images-wixmp-ed30a86b8c4ca887773594c2.wixmp.com/intermediary/f/b9b9daa8-9ff5-4a2e-ab15-448e39030baa/dc864sa-ae7ed099-d480-46f6-989b-0f302cce7f26.png/v1/fill/w_915,h_873,strp/by_briallu_by_wockish_dc864sa-pre.png)
her wanderings were ignorant, her mind dark as always however. having learned little thus far of Novus, she decided the best thing for herself was to throw completely in with the lot. though that was not true. not entirely. not heart and soul. not effort. until she knew what this land held for her, she would remain vigilant and careful of her motives. the woods were always, for instance, an excellent place to gather things. she crossed into the realm days prior before the closure, and due to her vagabond status such news and gossip were shared sparsely. she did not know of the threat to the realm. not until someone decided to tell her of it. and even then, she found it fascinating.
Huntington would look upward as the dark pegasus descended before her. keeping him within her sights, the man immediately decided to 'escort' her somewhere as if she was a drooling idiot. though slightly insulted, the woman said nothing. eyes would bulge only a bit at the mention of a killer - the man could easily chalk it up to concern. "how kind of you, sir" she would feint softly to him. having previously been at the library before now, it seemed she was meeting yet another native of this particular biosphere. "though I only wish to move to the next land" which was true.
"though... a murderer, you say?" her head would tilt slightly "what has been done about them?" for all the man knew, she could have killed someone. well, she had in the past but that was beside the point presently. and for all she knew, he was the killer.
@Mateo
RE: dreams, bruises, steel - Sloane - 02-28-2019
The dawn was quickly approaching and Sloane, disobeying all orders, had been out all night by herself. She had been on her way home, working her way back towards her little private island when she had caught a strange scent on the wind. It wasn’t the smell of someone she knew, not someone who was so common in Dawn Court. And so, like a hunter, she stalked the other.
She kept quite a bit back form her, keeping herself hidden in the shadows and watching where she stepped so not to snap a twig. As she got closer, she had to appreciate the other’s appearance. Dark and haunting, it was something refreshing to all the others who looked like they had sprayed on glitter before waking up in the mornings.
However, just as she was going to come up on the other, she hears something that has her attention. Something was in the sky. Eyes look upward and she can see the for of Mateo coming in and swooping up her conversation. Why did there always have to be groups?
Rolling her eyes, she decides that it’s best to just roll up like she was minding her own damn business. Plus, Mateo was assuming she needed help to her next destination. It was some anti-feminism bullshit. And so, she quickly picks up her pace and comes up along the gathered group. “What If she doesn’t need your help? She looks like she can hold her own.” Sloane didn’t know a thing about her, but she figured she probably could fend for herself.
However, he was quick to talk about the murders. Did everyone really need to know about them? She’d much rather the beast pick on some unsuspecting passerby than her. “He’s not telling you the whole story. There’s an unidentified beast that’s ripping apart individuals limb by limb and leaving them to rot.” Was all of that a little excessive, sure. Oh well. She would see if this stranger would be fearful or intrigued. That’s what told a lot about one’s personality.
@Mateo @Huntington
RE: dreams, bruises, steel - Mateo - 03-02-2019
This close up, Mateo notices the mare's morbid beauty. It seems, to him, an unfortunate time to be wandering the forest alone with such... ghoulish looking facial markings. He wonders what her story is, and hopes he can at least get this out of her before they reach her destination. He is not particularly thrilled to be walking deeper into the forest, in fact it seems like a horrible idea, but he is not quite sure how to say this without sounding like a coward.
"A murderer, you say?... what has been done about them?"
"Well," he begins to (graciously) tell her the tale as he understood it, most likely (definitely) with more aplomb than how the facts had been presented to him, when a tall mare quickly barges in. She shares some astute observations. "What If she doesn’t need your help? She looks like she can hold her own."
He is taken aback by the mare's abrupt entrance and her evident eavesdropping. His gaze jumps to one mare, then another. Then back to the pied intruder. "Wait a minute, where did you come from anyway? What are you doing out here alone? You know we're not supposed to wander in groups less than three." He had seen her at the court meeting, he wouldn't easily forget the dark red dapples that clung to her like kisses. In the early morning light that barely penetrates the forest, he can hardly make out her red markings, but he knows they're there and it makes him feel strangely satisfied, like he knows a secret.
She's a little rough around the edges, the pied mare, and the vagabond is hard to read. He has no idea how best to balance the two of them. Mateo was never good at group dynamics. One-on-one it was easy to find what made someone happy and then satisfy that desire. It becomes exponentially more difficult with each new personality involved, especially when he is not familiar with the personalities in question.
Sloane is quick to share the morbid details with the mare with the morbid markings. He doesn't listen to the details as much as he watches Huntington's reaction and deliberates what course of action to take next.
"Yes, and the unidentified beast ripped apart two experienced pages who had been traveling together. Which is why I offered to escort you." He speaks to Huntington but looks pointedly at Sloane, having finally answered her question. It is hard to not feel defensive when simple courtesy is being questioned.
"Look, there's three of us here now and there's safety in numbers. I think we should all go back to the court. And, miss," he bobs his head respectfully toward Huntington, "dawn court is a lovely place to stay, assuming you don't have any obligations elsewhere. Once the murders have been solved, you can leave as escorted or non-escorted as you please." His voice takes on a somewhat shrill tone that is not at all flattering, and he is pointedly aware that he is, for the millionth time in his life, the shortest person in the group.
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@Huntington @