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warrior hearts - Morrighan - 01-19-2020
Isra is leaving.
Morrighan has still not yet processed this fact. Change has never been something she's dealt with well. For the majority of her life, everything was the same. She had control over it, but now it feels like she can barely control anything. It's like she's an ember that sparks and quickly erupts into a raging wildfire.
She walks the market streets, which she finds herself doing more often as of late. Maybe it's all the noise. The roaring of the crowd and hooves against cobblestone do a good job of drowning out the ringing in her ears and her worst thoughts. Fire can only do so much after a while.
Typically she has no other purpose here than to wander and maybe browse some of the merchant tables. Her eyes still find themselves landing on an array of weapons, but none truly call to her. Perhaps she's too used to her magic as a weapon and the idea of using a physical one is foreign. Although, it is appealing to have something that could cut flesh.
But suddenly, it's become a good thing that she's here today. Out of the corner of her eye, she notices a young teen stash one of the smaller knives in his bag while the merchant has his back turned. Idiot merchant, for one, but when the teen dashes off, Morrighan is quick to follow.
It does not take long for her to catch up to him after her pursuit and the boy is flustered. "Where do you think you're going?" she asks him, her anger clearly showing in her expression and by the fire beneath her.
"U-uhh.. I-I was just.." he stutters, barely able to spit out any actual words. Morrighan rolls her eyes and pushes him back in the direction of the merchant tent.
"Let's go, you stupid delinquent," she grumbles and drags the boy back to where he had stolen from. When they arrive, the merchant is frantic, but his expression turns to disappointment as he eyes the teen.
"Hand it over," Morrighan demands and the boy reluctantly places the knife on the table in front of the merchant. He avoids eye contact. She knows she should make him apologize, but she doesn't feel like being Warden and Mom today.
"I better not see your sorry ass out here again, understand?" is all she says and the boy nods, trembling in fear. Morr releases him and he takes off to leave the markets. Hopefully he won't ever think to try and pull that shit again.
"Thank you Warden, I owe you one," the merchant says with gratitude.
"Just doing my job. Let me know if he comes back. He'll be sorry," she says, gesturing what she'd do by igniting a flame at her feet. She's pretty confident that the boy won't be back though.
At least, while she's never been good about change, she's made a name for herself here. She has a purpose. And others are scared of her. Or hate her.
It's a rewarding feeling.
@Antiope <3
RE: warrior hearts - Antiope - 02-01-2020
“train your soul to remember where the weapon and the world divide”
Antiope stands before the moon carving like she is waiting for someone, or something. She stands, with the crowds parting around her like a river parts around a stone, eyes deep and dark as the sea. She feels like the sea inside, too, at storm. Roiling, unsettled. The lioness in her bones has been pacing for days.
She has not slept.
They say this is the place where Caligo came down and crowned Isra as the Queen of her people. Before this moon that reflects the sky above each night, and encompasses the center of the market square. They say that Caligo drops diamonds like stars when she walks, and her pelt is even more ephemeral than the heavens.
Antiope looks at the carving in the road and its glittering moonstones and feels guilt. But beneath all of that she still feels anger. It is hard to think of gods and not feel anger, and distrust. The Regent grits her teeth, eyes flashing like cut gems in the light, and turns away.
Her anger is a wretched, burning thing, that oozes through her veins like tar. So different from the things in her that bleed like ichor. The tigress moves further into the markets, almost as if against her own will, almost as if the current of equines is simply pulling her along with them. Each step feels heavier, and heavier.
When she hears Morrighan’s voice, Antiope stops and turns her head. She sees the Warden alongside a young boy at one of the merchant’s stands. Curious, she moves a little closer to see what is happening, though it is easy to assume.
Morrighan lacks none of her biting charm, and it’s clear to see the boy is intimidated by her, but the Regent is interested by seeing her in this setting—rather than simply trying to beat her in a race. As the conversation ends between the Warden and the merchant, Antiope begins walking again. “Morrighan,” she says, pushing down all the burning, raging, storming things inside her. “Walk with me?”
She indicates to the streets behind her, stepping away from the stands and into the flow of bodies again. “I hope you don’t mind if I ask you something about yourself; you mentioned that you came to Novus,” after their last interaction, out in the prairie when they were talking of immortality.
“Where did you come from? What did you do there?” Antiope is curious if her wardenship is the first position of power Morrighan has ever held. She wishes she had Isra’s eyes, to see the things in Morrighan that their Queen had seen. To see the things in herself that Isra had seen, too.
“Speaking.”
She has not slept.
They say this is the place where Caligo came down and crowned Isra as the Queen of her people. Before this moon that reflects the sky above each night, and encompasses the center of the market square. They say that Caligo drops diamonds like stars when she walks, and her pelt is even more ephemeral than the heavens.
Antiope looks at the carving in the road and its glittering moonstones and feels guilt. But beneath all of that she still feels anger. It is hard to think of gods and not feel anger, and distrust. The Regent grits her teeth, eyes flashing like cut gems in the light, and turns away.
Her anger is a wretched, burning thing, that oozes through her veins like tar. So different from the things in her that bleed like ichor. The tigress moves further into the markets, almost as if against her own will, almost as if the current of equines is simply pulling her along with them. Each step feels heavier, and heavier.
When she hears Morrighan’s voice, Antiope stops and turns her head. She sees the Warden alongside a young boy at one of the merchant’s stands. Curious, she moves a little closer to see what is happening, though it is easy to assume.
Morrighan lacks none of her biting charm, and it’s clear to see the boy is intimidated by her, but the Regent is interested by seeing her in this setting—rather than simply trying to beat her in a race. As the conversation ends between the Warden and the merchant, Antiope begins walking again. “Morrighan,” she says, pushing down all the burning, raging, storming things inside her. “Walk with me?”
She indicates to the streets behind her, stepping away from the stands and into the flow of bodies again. “I hope you don’t mind if I ask you something about yourself; you mentioned that you came to Novus,” after their last interaction, out in the prairie when they were talking of immortality.
“Where did you come from? What did you do there?” Antiope is curious if her wardenship is the first position of power Morrighan has ever held. She wishes she had Isra’s eyes, to see the things in Morrighan that their Queen had seen. To see the things in herself that Isra had seen, too.
RE: warrior hearts - Morrighan - 02-03-2020
She hears her name spoken behind her and Morrighan turns to see Antiope standing there. The Warden nods in greeting and starts to walk alongside the mare. The crowd mingles around them, but she tunes out the noise to focus on what her Regent has to say.
The questions come as a surprise given that a few days have passed since their last race. Still, Morrighan can't exactly blame Antiope for wondering. They so far haven't gotten a chance to truly get to know each other and, quite frankly, she has the same questions for her.
"I come from a land called Ourania," she starts to explain, the images of her homeland playing through her mind. The memories are always bittersweet now whenever she thinks back on them. "And I grew up in a kingdom called Nieven. We were a pretty large group and most of us were soldiers. We trained from a young age to be ready for war against the wolves- the other large population on Ourania." The thought of the creatures had always made her grit her teeth and ignite her fire magic. Now that she has Bram it's... complicated to say the least.
"When I got older, I moved up within the ranks. I was in charge of training the younger soldiers and making sure they were ready for the real thing," she continues, leaving out some minor details. Technically, she wasn't always so involved with the soldiers. Her magic took some time to develop and she almost didn't think she'd make it, but thankfully she proved everyone wrong. But this had been a weakness and that would not do her any good to mention now.
"But then there was a day where the war got really bad. I led my party into battle and… I don't know. Somehow everything went black and I ended up here in Novus." Morrighan's feelings in general are complicated. Although she spent most of her life there, she's never felt more alive, or like she had a purpose until she became part of this Court. Still, there will always be a part of her that misses Ourania and her old life. Things seemed much easier then even while they were in the middle of war.
"What about you?" she decides to ask after all. It seems only fair Antiope tells her backstory now that Morr has given her's. She's definitely been curious to know for a while.
@Antiope <3
RE: warrior hearts - Antiope - 02-08-2020
“train your soul to remember where the weapon and the world divide”
Morrighan begins to openly tell Antiope of the place where she came from, of her time there, what she did. She speaks so plainly about it, laying it out between them on the cobblestone. Did the Warden simply not mind sharing her story, or did she trust Antiope with such details of her past?
They have both known worlds at war. Her body remembers battle—though not fondly—like an old friend. It remembers how to heft a weapon and how to look behind her while also looking in front of her. She will never forget what it is like to be at war, and it is why she doesn’t want to fight anymore.
This is a foolish hope. For someone like her, who was made to do nothing but fight. For someone like her who was made, she knows there will always be another battle on the horizon. And now, more than ever, she truly knows what it is like to lose. She knows what it is like to have something she wants to protect.
“Wolves?” Antiope asks, surprised. Two completely different species, joining together in order to kill one another. It occurs to her, then, how strange it must be for the Warden to have a wolf as a bonded. Surely that is the work of some god.
The Regent thinks again of the moon carving, getting further and further behind them with every step the pair take. Gods… can they all truly be so fickle? She grits her teeth and drags her feet, glancing sidelong at the shops lining the street. How can she trust them, if this is what they do? How can she trust them? How can she?
Her thoughts are muddled by sleeplessness, winding through her head like a lazy breeze. Antiope knows she should rest, but it has never been her strongest skill. She so often relied on her magic to keep her going, even after days. In war, there is very little time for sleep.
Morrighan turns the Regent’s question back on her, and Antiope breathes in a slow, even breath. She looks back at the other woman with stormy blue eyes, somehow darker than they usually seem. “I was born into a world ravaged by war,” she says. That is the easy part, that she had come into a world that had been dying and fighting. “It had been going for nearly 50 years, and I was supposed to stop it.”
Not alone, of course. There had been her sisters; each of them had been tasked with working to put a stop to the fighting. Each of them had been asked to fight, to put an end to the war. Each of them had been made to kill. Antiope looks at the Warden and wonders what the mare sees when she looks at her. No scars, the permanent stains of blood red dyes.
Does she look like a goddess, or a warrior, or a murderer? Are they not all the same thing, anyway?
“Then one day I fell in love, and he showed me that there were other things in the world besides death,” her heart begins to beat quicker, she pulls her eyes away and turns them toward the crowd. They pass without realizing the history that is being spilled like blood at their feet. “But then, death took him anyway. Him and our daughter,” Morrighan is the first to know besides Isra. It still doesn’t feel right to talk about them out loud.
How can she trust the gods?
She doesn’t mention going to the temple to kill the gods, on the cusp of a sunset so deep and red the world looked like it was on fire. She doesn’t mention how brightly, how harshly she burned. Hotter, deadlier, than any flame the Warden can conjure. “I didn’t stop it,” Antiope says, “the war.”
The gods had perished by her blade and then she had boarded a ship and left. It had brought her to Novus. She doesn’t know what happened to the war, or the equines she knew, or her sisters. Perhaps with the gods dead the fighting had simply ended on its own. Perhaps, they had all ended each other instead.
The gods should not trust her. There is quiet, for a moment, between them. “It seems we have both only ever known battle and bloodshed,” it is strange, how similar they are. Why is it Antiope keeps turning corners and finding things and places and equines here that reflect so much of what she is inside. It is like magic, purple and strange and mysterious. “Perhaps Denocte is out to remake us into something new.”
“Speaking.”
They have both known worlds at war. Her body remembers battle—though not fondly—like an old friend. It remembers how to heft a weapon and how to look behind her while also looking in front of her. She will never forget what it is like to be at war, and it is why she doesn’t want to fight anymore.
This is a foolish hope. For someone like her, who was made to do nothing but fight. For someone like her who was made, she knows there will always be another battle on the horizon. And now, more than ever, she truly knows what it is like to lose. She knows what it is like to have something she wants to protect.
“Wolves?” Antiope asks, surprised. Two completely different species, joining together in order to kill one another. It occurs to her, then, how strange it must be for the Warden to have a wolf as a bonded. Surely that is the work of some god.
The Regent thinks again of the moon carving, getting further and further behind them with every step the pair take. Gods… can they all truly be so fickle? She grits her teeth and drags her feet, glancing sidelong at the shops lining the street. How can she trust them, if this is what they do? How can she trust them? How can she?
Her thoughts are muddled by sleeplessness, winding through her head like a lazy breeze. Antiope knows she should rest, but it has never been her strongest skill. She so often relied on her magic to keep her going, even after days. In war, there is very little time for sleep.
Morrighan turns the Regent’s question back on her, and Antiope breathes in a slow, even breath. She looks back at the other woman with stormy blue eyes, somehow darker than they usually seem. “I was born into a world ravaged by war,” she says. That is the easy part, that she had come into a world that had been dying and fighting. “It had been going for nearly 50 years, and I was supposed to stop it.”
Not alone, of course. There had been her sisters; each of them had been tasked with working to put a stop to the fighting. Each of them had been asked to fight, to put an end to the war. Each of them had been made to kill. Antiope looks at the Warden and wonders what the mare sees when she looks at her. No scars, the permanent stains of blood red dyes.
Does she look like a goddess, or a warrior, or a murderer? Are they not all the same thing, anyway?
“Then one day I fell in love, and he showed me that there were other things in the world besides death,” her heart begins to beat quicker, she pulls her eyes away and turns them toward the crowd. They pass without realizing the history that is being spilled like blood at their feet. “But then, death took him anyway. Him and our daughter,” Morrighan is the first to know besides Isra. It still doesn’t feel right to talk about them out loud.
How can she trust the gods?
She doesn’t mention going to the temple to kill the gods, on the cusp of a sunset so deep and red the world looked like it was on fire. She doesn’t mention how brightly, how harshly she burned. Hotter, deadlier, than any flame the Warden can conjure. “I didn’t stop it,” Antiope says, “the war.”
The gods had perished by her blade and then she had boarded a ship and left. It had brought her to Novus. She doesn’t know what happened to the war, or the equines she knew, or her sisters. Perhaps with the gods dead the fighting had simply ended on its own. Perhaps, they had all ended each other instead.
The gods should not trust her. There is quiet, for a moment, between them. “It seems we have both only ever known battle and bloodshed,” it is strange, how similar they are. Why is it Antiope keeps turning corners and finding things and places and equines here that reflect so much of what she is inside. It is like magic, purple and strange and mysterious. “Perhaps Denocte is out to remake us into something new.”
RE: warrior hearts - Morrighan - 02-13-2020
Morrighan,
It's no surprise to Morrighan when Antiope questions her backstory. Wolves certainly had some physical advantages to her kind with their strong jaws, sharp canines and brute strength. It was why her kingdom trained even harder in magical strength so they could make up for some of what they lacked. Of course, she can't imagine getting kicked in the face by a horse hoof feels too great, so they at least have that going for them.
She laughs, thinking of Bram again and Caligo's clearly shitty jokes. "Yes, wolves," she tells Antiope. There is still a part of her that will always be bitter towards the deity for throwing this at her. Bram still got on her nerves a lot too, but oddly enough he's starting to grow on her. "It's why I say Caligo has a sick sense of humor putting Bram and I together." The Warden shakes her head. She doesn't know where the timber wolf is today, although likely out hunting again.
As the Regent begins to tell her story, Morrighan's attention shifts back to the other woman. There's something that sparks within her. The war in Ourania practically lasted that long, but she couldn't imagine being the sole person to stop it. No wonder she feels such a connection with Isra and Antiope, they too have a history with war and its struggles.
But as she mentions losing the love of her life and their child, the conversation takes a different turn. Morr thinks of Al'Zahra briefly, but she can't say she'd call what they have love. There had been a man in her past that she thinks she loved at one point, but it had been so long ago. He turned out to be a jackass anyway. To truly love someone that your entire outlook changes- that is something she isn't sure if she'll ever experience. "I'm sorry," is all she can manage. She can tell how grief stricken Antiope is though and all she can do is look on with a frown. Comforting has never been part of her skillset.
"Maybe that's why I've come to love this place so much," Morrighan says when Antiope is done, referring to Denocte and remaking the two of them. It speaks to her in a way that Ourania never did even though it had more battle and bloodshed than Novus. Funny of her to say though considering how much in denial she was when she first arrived, but Antiope didn't need to know that.
"And with Isra leaving, I'm guessing it'll remake you into our leader?" she asks out of curiosity. Although Morr has known Isra longer than Antiope, she respects them both and wouldn't mind having the mare as their new Sovereign. She's just curious if she had taken the offer or not.
a little mayhem never hurt anyone
@Antiope <3
(I don't usually like to change tables midway through threads but I was eager to use this one bahah)
RE: warrior hearts - Antiope - 02-20-2020
“train your soul to remember where the weapon and the world divide”
The Warden’s comment about Caligo causes Antiope to raise a brow in wondering. Perhaps the fire-born mare is not the biggest fan of their patron deity? The Regent has always kept her opinion of gods and god-things close to her heart, because she knows that here the gods and goddesses are of great value and importance to the people.
The only thing Antiope doesn’t know, is of how much value and importance they are to her.
“What do you think of Caligo?” she asks and then elaborates with a quirk of her lips, “Other than her sense of humor, or lack thereof.” She knows there is a temple in the mountains for them, not that Antiope has ever been. How could someone like her ever step inside another temple of gods? Perhaps the gods cannot see her soul. Perhaps they cannot see her hate and mistrust.
She moves quickly past the awkward moments surrounding Rezar and Chara. Past Morrighan’s uncertainty of if or how to comfort her, past her own lingering, biting remorse. There is so little there for her, and none of it will give the Warden any more insight into who she is; who she would rather become.
Antiope tries to imagine being anywhere else as Morrighan talks of her love for Denocte. But she can’t, because the ship she had boarded didn’t bring her anywhere else, it brought her here. She could have ended up anywhere in the world, but she had landed on the Novus’ shores, on the docks of a court and midnight and stars.
She’s not much for fate, even having been crafted by gods, even having killed those gods. But perhaps that ship had put her exactly where she needed to be. The Regent looks into Morrighan’s eyes and says, “Denocte is a special kind of place.”
But the comment that comes next is not one she expects, though perhaps one she should have. Antiope’s eyes drift forward, dark and sharp. “That is Isra’s vision,” and Isra has so many visions. She is a storyteller as much with her words as with her magic as with her heart. Yet, the thought of it brings her back to the moon in the marketplace and the question: how?
“Speaking.”
The only thing Antiope doesn’t know, is of how much value and importance they are to her.
“What do you think of Caligo?” she asks and then elaborates with a quirk of her lips, “Other than her sense of humor, or lack thereof.” She knows there is a temple in the mountains for them, not that Antiope has ever been. How could someone like her ever step inside another temple of gods? Perhaps the gods cannot see her soul. Perhaps they cannot see her hate and mistrust.
She moves quickly past the awkward moments surrounding Rezar and Chara. Past Morrighan’s uncertainty of if or how to comfort her, past her own lingering, biting remorse. There is so little there for her, and none of it will give the Warden any more insight into who she is; who she would rather become.
Antiope tries to imagine being anywhere else as Morrighan talks of her love for Denocte. But she can’t, because the ship she had boarded didn’t bring her anywhere else, it brought her here. She could have ended up anywhere in the world, but she had landed on the Novus’ shores, on the docks of a court and midnight and stars.
She’s not much for fate, even having been crafted by gods, even having killed those gods. But perhaps that ship had put her exactly where she needed to be. The Regent looks into Morrighan’s eyes and says, “Denocte is a special kind of place.”
But the comment that comes next is not one she expects, though perhaps one she should have. Antiope’s eyes drift forward, dark and sharp. “That is Isra’s vision,” and Isra has so many visions. She is a storyteller as much with her words as with her magic as with her heart. Yet, the thought of it brings her back to the moon in the marketplace and the question: how?
RE: warrior hearts - Morrighan - 02-21-2020
Morrighan,
What did she think of Caligo? In short, it's complicated. Morrighan has always felt conflicted towards gods and deities, especially after all that happened back in Ourania. They never listened to their people, if they ever really existed in the first place. Not that she ever had a deep faith either, but it certainly didn't help.
"Well," she says, not really sure where to start. "It's hard to say. We didn't have the greatest gods to look up to back home, so I'm indifferent. I've never really worshipped any god or deity, but I suppose I'm grateful to have my magic back." Caligo is the only deity she's ever felt some kind of connection with or sort of seen for that matter. At first she isn't sure if she should mention that part. Even she still feels silly thinking about it. But, she isn't talking to just anyone, so maybe Antiope won't judge her too harshly.
"The day I got my magic again, I swear I… saw her. At least it felt like her statue was staring at me differently. Then I thought I saw her again when I found Bram. Maybe I was imagining it, but that was the first time I ever had that happen," she manages to confess, but it does sound very ridiculous. "I don't know. I'm loyal to the Court now, so I guess naturally that means I should be loyal to her, right? It's just hard to really believe when she's not a complete physical being."
Morrighan looks away from Antiope, feeling foolish. She isn't sure what answer the woman had hoped for, if there was one. Hopefully what was said doesn't disappoint her. The last thing she wants to do is offend her Regent.
When the topic changes over to Sovereign-ship, Antiope says it's Isra's vision for her to move up, but it's hard to tell if it's something the woman truly wants. Of course, taking on the rank of Regent, she would've had to expect this day to come eventually. "Is that your vision too?" she asks, curious to know if she'd see the role as a burden or a blessing.
It's hard for Morrighan to imagine any other leader besides Isra at this point, but that's just because she's been their queen for the entire time Morr's been here. From what she's learned and seen from Antiope, she thinks the mare would make a good leader. She's much more level-headed than Morr, so maybe it's a good thing Isra hadn't asked her. The entire Court would probably end up in flames as soon as someone screwed up.
Although, Antiope would be needing a Regent of her own. Morr's definitely worked hard in her role as Warden, but it never felt like something she'd want to settle on. Maybe in time she could continue to prove herself and they could make a good team together. In reality, she'd never want to destroy her own Court (but maybe the one who screwed up).
So, she decides to drop the question, "Have you thought of who you'd appoint as Regent?" And see what happens. At the least, maybe she can get a sense of what Antiope would be looking for in a second in command.
“Speaking.”
"Well," she says, not really sure where to start. "It's hard to say. We didn't have the greatest gods to look up to back home, so I'm indifferent. I've never really worshipped any god or deity, but I suppose I'm grateful to have my magic back." Caligo is the only deity she's ever felt some kind of connection with or sort of seen for that matter. At first she isn't sure if she should mention that part. Even she still feels silly thinking about it. But, she isn't talking to just anyone, so maybe Antiope won't judge her too harshly.
"The day I got my magic again, I swear I… saw her. At least it felt like her statue was staring at me differently. Then I thought I saw her again when I found Bram. Maybe I was imagining it, but that was the first time I ever had that happen," she manages to confess, but it does sound very ridiculous. "I don't know. I'm loyal to the Court now, so I guess naturally that means I should be loyal to her, right? It's just hard to really believe when she's not a complete physical being."
Morrighan looks away from Antiope, feeling foolish. She isn't sure what answer the woman had hoped for, if there was one. Hopefully what was said doesn't disappoint her. The last thing she wants to do is offend her Regent.
When the topic changes over to Sovereign-ship, Antiope says it's Isra's vision for her to move up, but it's hard to tell if it's something the woman truly wants. Of course, taking on the rank of Regent, she would've had to expect this day to come eventually. "Is that your vision too?" she asks, curious to know if she'd see the role as a burden or a blessing.
It's hard for Morrighan to imagine any other leader besides Isra at this point, but that's just because she's been their queen for the entire time Morr's been here. From what she's learned and seen from Antiope, she thinks the mare would make a good leader. She's much more level-headed than Morr, so maybe it's a good thing Isra hadn't asked her. The entire Court would probably end up in flames as soon as someone screwed up.
Although, Antiope would be needing a Regent of her own. Morr's definitely worked hard in her role as Warden, but it never felt like something she'd want to settle on. Maybe in time she could continue to prove herself and they could make a good team together. In reality, she'd never want to destroy her own Court (but maybe the one who screwed up).
So, she decides to drop the question, "Have you thought of who you'd appoint as Regent?" And see what happens. At the least, maybe she can get a sense of what Antiope would be looking for in a second in command.
a little mayhem never hurt anyone
@Antiope <3
RE: warrior hearts - Antiope - 03-12-2020
“train your soul to remember where the weapon and the world divide”
Antiope listens to Morrighan talk about her relationship to the different deities that have been in her life and at the mention of lackluster gods from her previous world it only further manifests the Regent’s struggles with her own beliefs. Are there good, loving gods out there? Could the ones here on Novus be like that? How is she to know, when she has had no kind of interaction with them.
“I have heard tales that the gods have come down to walk among the people in mortal forms. Or, as mortal as a god’s form can possibly be,” Antiope says, glancing at the Warden, “So, perhaps you have seen her, or some form of her.” Really, who is to say either way? What Morrighan wishes to believe is up to her, and Antiope cannot fault her for that.
Just because she has had up close and personal experiences with gods does not mean everyone does. After all, it is not everything it’s made out to be—not in her life, at least. “Perhaps believing is just like the wind, or sunlight, or love. Intangible, sometimes you can’t see it or it might not feel like it, but it’s always there regardless.” The Regent’s problem is not in belief. She does not need to see Caligo to know she is there, but she doesn’t know what Caligo knows or feels about her. She doesn’t know if she can trust the demigoddess, or herself.
When the Warden asks whether or not becoming Sovereign is her vision, Antiope is quiet for a long moment. Her sapphire eyes almost seem to darken, like a sea at storm, as she lifts them toward the sky. She thinks of foliage, verdant and tangled, and shadows heavy and deep.
“I have been something of a queen, before,” she says. They had revered her, almost worshipped her like a goddess. She had been god-sent, of course, sent to save them. Antiope had led them successfully through many battles, kept them out of harm’s way. When she had come to Novus, the last thing on her mind had been sovereignship. But like the anger, like the memories, leadership seemed to be following her, “I certainly hadn’t intended to become one again so soon.” Scarcely years, scarcely time at all. Not for her, who has all the time in all the world.
“But, I could no sooner turn away from Denocte’s citizens than to disappoint Isra,” her eyes find Morrighan’s again, turning away from the wide stretch of sky above them. There is nothing up there for her but the space to sort through her thoughts. Later. Perhaps, perhaps.
But then Morrighan is asking about who will take her place once she ascends, and Antiope cannot help but look a little closer at the grullo woman. She hasn’t really put much thought into it, but a part of her has a feeling the question isn’t completely innocent. “Are you putting in an application?” the Regent asks, curiosity taking over.
Somehow, things felt easier when there was the threat of war. War, Antiope knows. She knows it intimately, as she might a lover. The Regent knows all the strengths and weaknesses of battle, she has learned it and conquered it and, once, even delighted in it. But peace is a different kind of beast. It is something she is still desperately trying to understand.
She wonders if her heart will ever know it as familiarly.
But it rages, and fights, and harbors its love for something so arcane and primal.
Perhaps she will always be a wild thing, a god-thing, with a lioness in her bones. She can lay down her weapons but she can never lay down her instincts. But she is not going to be queen of a warring kingdom anymore. Something… something is going to have to change before everything breaks.
“Speaking.”
“I have heard tales that the gods have come down to walk among the people in mortal forms. Or, as mortal as a god’s form can possibly be,” Antiope says, glancing at the Warden, “So, perhaps you have seen her, or some form of her.” Really, who is to say either way? What Morrighan wishes to believe is up to her, and Antiope cannot fault her for that.
Just because she has had up close and personal experiences with gods does not mean everyone does. After all, it is not everything it’s made out to be—not in her life, at least. “Perhaps believing is just like the wind, or sunlight, or love. Intangible, sometimes you can’t see it or it might not feel like it, but it’s always there regardless.” The Regent’s problem is not in belief. She does not need to see Caligo to know she is there, but she doesn’t know what Caligo knows or feels about her. She doesn’t know if she can trust the demigoddess, or herself.
When the Warden asks whether or not becoming Sovereign is her vision, Antiope is quiet for a long moment. Her sapphire eyes almost seem to darken, like a sea at storm, as she lifts them toward the sky. She thinks of foliage, verdant and tangled, and shadows heavy and deep.
“I have been something of a queen, before,” she says. They had revered her, almost worshipped her like a goddess. She had been god-sent, of course, sent to save them. Antiope had led them successfully through many battles, kept them out of harm’s way. When she had come to Novus, the last thing on her mind had been sovereignship. But like the anger, like the memories, leadership seemed to be following her, “I certainly hadn’t intended to become one again so soon.” Scarcely years, scarcely time at all. Not for her, who has all the time in all the world.
“But, I could no sooner turn away from Denocte’s citizens than to disappoint Isra,” her eyes find Morrighan’s again, turning away from the wide stretch of sky above them. There is nothing up there for her but the space to sort through her thoughts. Later. Perhaps, perhaps.
But then Morrighan is asking about who will take her place once she ascends, and Antiope cannot help but look a little closer at the grullo woman. She hasn’t really put much thought into it, but a part of her has a feeling the question isn’t completely innocent. “Are you putting in an application?” the Regent asks, curiosity taking over.
Somehow, things felt easier when there was the threat of war. War, Antiope knows. She knows it intimately, as she might a lover. The Regent knows all the strengths and weaknesses of battle, she has learned it and conquered it and, once, even delighted in it. But peace is a different kind of beast. It is something she is still desperately trying to understand.
She wonders if her heart will ever know it as familiarly.
But it rages, and fights, and harbors its love for something so arcane and primal.
Perhaps she will always be a wild thing, a god-thing, with a lioness in her bones. She can lay down her weapons but she can never lay down her instincts. But she is not going to be queen of a warring kingdom anymore. Something… something is going to have to change before everything breaks.
RE: warrior hearts - Morrighan - 03-13-2020
Morrighan,
When Antiope speaks to her, it sounds different, almost like a wise elder. Maybe in some way she is one given her immortality. Morrighan can only imagine all the things the Regent must have seen in her many years of life. Although she was immortal too, it didn't feel like that much time had passed to her.
But what Antiope says of gods walking among them in mortal forms seems crazy. Why would they want to do that when they were supposedly all powerful beings? It all brings about many questions that she's not sure she wants to get into. At the same time though, she can't deny that she feels a presence and it likely could be Caligo. Nothing else would make much sense.
Part of her is surprised to hear that Antiope used to be something like a queen. She certainly never acted like one, but in a way it does fit her. She's dependable and someone Morrighan respects. It takes a lot for her to feel that someone is worthy of her respect anyway.
"Well, Isra picked you for a reason," she replies, confident that Isra wouldn't leave the kingdom in the wrong hands. "I think you'll do great." Morrighan's comment is genuine, although nice comments are quite rare coming from her.
Then when it comes to the conversation about a new Regent, in reality, she hadn't been thinking of it that much until now. It had crossed her mind here and there, but is that it? Is she putting in an application? "Maybe," is all she says at first, thinking things over carefully. After all, she's just as loyal and dedicated. If anything, she's proven that while being Warden by taking so much care in protecting the borders and working to keep things under control. While some are intimidated by her, there are also some who respect her. Being promoted to such a rank like Regent would make the most logical sense.
"I feel I'm pretty qualified through my time as Warden. What would you be looking for?" Morrighan asks with a glimmer of hope. Ambition has been a trait of her's, so naturally when she gets an idea of wanting something, she needs to go for it. At first, it had been finding a real purpose in this new world and making a new life for herself. Now that she's started to establish that, she wouldn't be doing herself any favors by settling or holding back.
Her and Antiope weren't close friends yet, but friends nonetheless. She must be able to see the good and valuable qualities she possesses. Morr would be honored to stand alongside her and help take care of the kingdom together. She knows Isra saw potential in her, so hopefully Antiope does too.
“Speaking.”
But what Antiope says of gods walking among them in mortal forms seems crazy. Why would they want to do that when they were supposedly all powerful beings? It all brings about many questions that she's not sure she wants to get into. At the same time though, she can't deny that she feels a presence and it likely could be Caligo. Nothing else would make much sense.
Part of her is surprised to hear that Antiope used to be something like a queen. She certainly never acted like one, but in a way it does fit her. She's dependable and someone Morrighan respects. It takes a lot for her to feel that someone is worthy of her respect anyway.
"Well, Isra picked you for a reason," she replies, confident that Isra wouldn't leave the kingdom in the wrong hands. "I think you'll do great." Morrighan's comment is genuine, although nice comments are quite rare coming from her.
Then when it comes to the conversation about a new Regent, in reality, she hadn't been thinking of it that much until now. It had crossed her mind here and there, but is that it? Is she putting in an application? "Maybe," is all she says at first, thinking things over carefully. After all, she's just as loyal and dedicated. If anything, she's proven that while being Warden by taking so much care in protecting the borders and working to keep things under control. While some are intimidated by her, there are also some who respect her. Being promoted to such a rank like Regent would make the most logical sense.
"I feel I'm pretty qualified through my time as Warden. What would you be looking for?" Morrighan asks with a glimmer of hope. Ambition has been a trait of her's, so naturally when she gets an idea of wanting something, she needs to go for it. At first, it had been finding a real purpose in this new world and making a new life for herself. Now that she's started to establish that, she wouldn't be doing herself any favors by settling or holding back.
Her and Antiope weren't close friends yet, but friends nonetheless. She must be able to see the good and valuable qualities she possesses. Morr would be honored to stand alongside her and help take care of the kingdom together. She knows Isra saw potential in her, so hopefully Antiope does too.
a little mayhem never hurt anyone
@Antiope <3
RE: warrior hearts - Antiope - 04-03-2020
“train your soul to remember where the weapon and the world divide”
Had Isra picked her because Antiope had shown her that death is necessary? Had she been chosen because of the black, burning, buzzing thing they had freed that had killed the thing that had needed to die.
Perhaps Antiope will never know, now that Isra is leaving. Perhaps she does not want to know, because if that is why then it only reinforces the truth that she already knows. She was made for death, and war, and killing, and she will never be made for anything else. But she does not want to lead these people into the fate designed for her.
The Regent hopes it is not true.
“Thank you, Morrighan,” Antiope responds, truly grateful for the woman’s faith. It is not her ability to lead that she is concerned about. She knows she can lead, she knows she has the capacity to care for and protect those who need it. It is the unknowns that are keeping her up at night. And that damned moon, imprinting in her thoughts like an eye.
She’s glad when the conversation takes a turn to Regency, and who will take her position. Curious, to find that the Warden might be interested in stepping up to fill it after it has been vacated. Antiope carefully watches the other woman’s expression, as she seems to be thinking about something. When she asks what it is exactly Antiope would want in a Regent, it’s her turn to think.
The striped woman has never had a second-in-command, as it were. In her old world, there was only her when she lead the jungle kingdom to battle. There was no one to stand beside her, nobody to support her or to help her make the best decisions.
She had been alone in it.
So what is she looking for, in something like that?
“I suppose I would want whoever fills the position to care about the court, to have everyone’s best interests in mind,” Antiope says, turning her eyes on the equines passing them on the street as she talks. “They deserve a Regent who is reliable, and discerning, and understanding of their needs.” The woman’s gaze flickers, almost shutters like a camera lens, as she thinks about what she’s really describing.
Gods.
Have so many really let them down that this is what it has come to? Looking for comfort and guidance in other ways. “I would just want someone who I can trust with these people,” her voice is carefully composed, but inside she is distant. For a long dark moment she wonders why they even follow the gods at all.
“Speaking.”
Perhaps Antiope will never know, now that Isra is leaving. Perhaps she does not want to know, because if that is why then it only reinforces the truth that she already knows. She was made for death, and war, and killing, and she will never be made for anything else. But she does not want to lead these people into the fate designed for her.
The Regent hopes it is not true.
“Thank you, Morrighan,” Antiope responds, truly grateful for the woman’s faith. It is not her ability to lead that she is concerned about. She knows she can lead, she knows she has the capacity to care for and protect those who need it. It is the unknowns that are keeping her up at night. And that damned moon, imprinting in her thoughts like an eye.
She’s glad when the conversation takes a turn to Regency, and who will take her position. Curious, to find that the Warden might be interested in stepping up to fill it after it has been vacated. Antiope carefully watches the other woman’s expression, as she seems to be thinking about something. When she asks what it is exactly Antiope would want in a Regent, it’s her turn to think.
The striped woman has never had a second-in-command, as it were. In her old world, there was only her when she lead the jungle kingdom to battle. There was no one to stand beside her, nobody to support her or to help her make the best decisions.
She had been alone in it.
So what is she looking for, in something like that?
“I suppose I would want whoever fills the position to care about the court, to have everyone’s best interests in mind,” Antiope says, turning her eyes on the equines passing them on the street as she talks. “They deserve a Regent who is reliable, and discerning, and understanding of their needs.” The woman’s gaze flickers, almost shutters like a camera lens, as she thinks about what she’s really describing.
Gods.
Have so many really let them down that this is what it has come to? Looking for comfort and guidance in other ways. “I would just want someone who I can trust with these people,” her voice is carefully composed, but inside she is distant. For a long dark moment she wonders why they even follow the gods at all.