The desert, like all other things eventually do, had grown boring. 

Since his escapade into the night court, the capitol to the north had grown suspiciously quiet. There were rumors, of course - the silver king was said to be plotting another great feat to bring one of the courts to heel. Sometimes the shadows whispered that his rage for denocte knew no bounds; other times, they claimed a new target somewhere in the west. That was only one of the rumors, albeit one that often took different faces. 

Toulouse had also heard that the crow had left solterra, that he had slipped out unseen and vanished in the night. A girl in the markets had told him the king was sick, that a server boy she knew had served the king medicine in his bed. The next day he’d heard from a soldier that the king had ready sent out half of his army, hunting for the relic on the island. The day after that, a blind cripple had prophesied that the king’s very own pet monster would consume him in his sleep, three days hence. 

That was a fortnight ago. 

No matter how many tales the pale man heard, none of them proved true. King Raum of Solterra was, as ever, an enigma: distant and cold, shrouded in secrecy. 

But his secrets were no secrets at all, only pretenses at mystery. Solterra was quiet, save for her peoples’ sobbing. Even now, as Toulouse flicked an ear back behind him, he swore he could hear them gnashing their teeth. 

Eventually, more exciting talk had reached him. He had hesitated, if only for a second; he had a job to do in Solterra, a duty to serve. But then he had laughed, and the next morning had found him deep in the Mors, trudging towards a new horizon. Toulouse had only ever shown loyalty towards one man, and his desires always lined up with his own. 

And thus does he find himself in Terrastella.

He isn’t sure what he’s hunting - only that there’s something to be found here, something more tempting than even the Relic of Tempus, in part because of the history, the notes, the secrecy. He couldn’t have stayed away even if he’d wanted to. 

The tall grasses of the Susurro are pale, as pale as his own skin, dancing along his legs as he wades through a sea of gold. Today he has left his scarves at home, the better to feel the sun and wind upon his own skin - only his diamond horseshoes remain, and the green pendant wound about his neck. 

He lifts his white, horned head to the sky.

And smiles. 





@open to anyone!! 
taking part in the halcyon scavenger hunt c: 

@redandblack not sure if i did this right but 
happy to participate!

The sun was warm on his face, warm on his skin, turning the already-gold hairs of his coat absolutely metallic. Toulouse’s eyes drifted closed, basking in the warmth of the Dusk Court, making himself perfectly at home here in the heart of their land. The wind danced along his coat, a duet between itself and the sun, and he sighed.

Its the soft murmur of a stranger that makes him open them again.

A dun mare with red feathers in her hair. Her markings seem oddly familiar, feral and exotic, and he thinks he should recognize her. He knows Terrastella has its own legends and stories, and it seems she has stepped forth from one of them. Those stories whisper themselves now in the back of his mind, telling him he should be afraid - but her voice is warm, albeit odd. And fear is not a common emotion for the horned man.

”It seems you already know it,” he hums, as he turns his head to look at her. ”’Lone wolf’. Although others call me Toulouse.” And others still have a different name for me. He’s lost track of how many names he has, but he wears them as easily as his own scarves.

Her eyes feel bright on his skin, like twin suns lighting him up in a spotlight. ”If there’s something more interesting than the sky, I’ll be sure to look at that instead,” he tells her, and for a moment his voice echoes her flat tone, even as he fixes his green gaze upon her.

She was certainly more interesting than the sky, but he wasn’t about to tell her so.

”I used to live here,” he tells her, turning his eyes to look out across the fields. It’s not a lie for once; this was the first land of Novus that he had seen, washing up on the beach that a sea-soaked castaway. He had thought about staying here, if only for a little bit - before the wind had swept him up and carried him away like a leaf. ”In a way, I think that means I belong here.”

As far as Toulouse was concerned, he belonged to any land he set his hoof upon, for he was as changeable as the seasons.

And wherever there were secrets to be found, there he too, would be found.

He tilts his head back to the mare, his heavy mane dancing upon the wind that swirls around them. "Who do I have the pleasure of speaking to?"





@sigrun i love herrr
taking part in the halcyon scavenger hunt c: