It was in Dawn’s new light, that the girl emerges from the forest. Before her the castle rises high, high into the sky, framed in the pinks and golds of a cresting sun.
 
The dusk girl had been to every kingdom thus far and met each at its most favoured time of day. There was no escaping that the dawn was finest here…
 
It is upon the precipice of the trees, that the dusk girl is tethered. Awe binds her limbs to the grassy banks of the river that curls sleepily around the foot of the castle.
 
Her limbs ache, satisfyingly so, for her trek had been a long one; through night and shadow with only starlight and moonlight to mark her path. It was only as she reached the edge of the woodland, as trees began to thin and the world began to creep back in, that she saw the first light, brightening the sky.
 
She wonders if the sage was here. Charlemagne, the boy of books and dust with whom she had, had her worst encounter since arriving in Novus… The fear of meeting him again would not sway the flower girl from her task to greet each Court and their sovereign. It helped that adventure eased the ache of her limbs and fuelled her eager heart.
 
High above the golden girl the trees begin to sigh, rousing from their slumber by the morning songs of birds. Clad in dirt and dust, strewn with petals and flowers, and bearing scraped knees and muddy feet, Florentine appears a natural part of this forest life.
 
The water calls and she does so long for a bath, if not to let the waters ease the dirt from her skin, then just to ease the ache of her muscles. Lavender petals fall forwards, loosened from her mane to drift upon the water’s surface. Is it warm? she asks as they float off towards the sea.
 
She does not hear their answer, nor even wait to see it one would ever come, for with a sigh and a flurry of wings, the dusk girl ascends the walls of the fort. She lands, light and nimble upon the other side, her amethyst eyes gleaming as she drinks in its towering parapets and lavish stonework.
 
It is so quiet in these early moments as the rest of the world still slumbers on. Yet if any land was to be awakening first, it would be the denizens of Delumine.
 
“Good Morning,” She says, her voice a melody to accompany the choir of birds, “I bring greetings from the Dusk Court and Queen Rannveig.”
 
@Kasil <3  @Charlemagne <3



this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

He heard the wings before he saw them, his gaze turned eastward to capture the colors shifting and changing upon the horizon. It was unsurprising that dawn would be his favorite time of the day; it had become as much a part of him as the court he called his home, shaping him with a sense of purpose he had been so thoroughly lacking during his time shuffled among the courts of Novus. It was refreshing, satisfying even: he hadn’t known what he was missing until he had stumbled upon it quite by accident.

The dawn reminded him of his place in the world. Of all the things he wished to be.

It was bold and forward, bringing the start of a new day and with it, hope.

He waited until the sun had risen a good inch (from his perspective) above the thin line of the horizon before finally turning away, basking in the early morning reverence. His hooves made satisfying clips upon the stone-paved path, his ears bouncing gently in time with his trot. Ipomoea wasn’t sure what it was he searched for, but the investigation invigorated him far better than any caffeine would, awakening his senses and preparing him for the day ahead.

It was around the next bend that he saw her, clothed in all the same creams and caramels as he remembered. This time there was no hesitation, no sudden sliding or stopping as there was the last time they met. He strode boldly forward, similarly as though he were greeting a long time friend. Which, to Po, they already were.

"Florentine!” His voice was hushed amidst the morning but served well to carry his joy across the courtyard nonetheless, accompanied with his characteristically easygoing smile. His
mottled legs carried him closer in his pause, all the better to keep his voice low and respectful to those still sleeping or starting their day. “Good morning!”




@Florentine @kasil
i hope you don’t mind po butting in here!

KASIL

Dawn.

A fitting time of day for the Sovereign of Delumine. His eyes were closed as he faced the sun, imagining in his mind’s eye as Oriens began the task of carrying the orb of light over the horizon. He liked to imagine what the god might be thinking, or perhaps saying to himself as he set about his task. Would he be well rested from the night? Would he have concern over the inhabitants of Novus and Delumine? Would he be thinking of the Sovereign, perhaps praising him or..more likely chastising him. The thought brought a frown to his face, the concern over whether or not he was fit to lead the Dawn Court an ever present one.

He had intended to visit the mountains to pray, but he had found himself littered with duties that required him to stay within the bounds of the Court thus far. There were so many new members, and he wanted to know them all by name -- to hear their concerns and there was of course...the higher ranking positions to consider. There were several individuals who had expressed an interest in his Emissary position, yet Kasil delayed in naming a successor. He wanted to be sure of the person that he called his counsel. Word had reached him, however, that he was alone in regard to choosing his higher ranks. It appeared that the other courts had swiftly put others into place and he envied the confidence that the other Sovereigns had in their choices. How lucky they must be to have close allies already.

The stallion ruffled his wings, the dark feathers stretching out wide with the desire to take flight. Soon, he decided. He could use the time away to clear his head.

He returned to the Court, his stride purposeful as he moved through the outer ring. His steps ring out against the stone path, as he fiddles with the gold adornments that kept his hair out of his way. His blunt cut tail swishes along behind him, barely brushing the back of his feet. It was Ipomoea, or Po as he preferred to be called, that caught his attention first -- the cherry colored stallion a sight that was starting to become very familiar to Kasil. He was quite easily recognized with those winged feet of his, and Kasil opened his mouth to greet him when he noticed the object of his subject’s attention.

The female was of slight build, coated in a luxurious cream. Flowers clung to an entanglement of fine hair, honey gold. Kasil thought that perhaps he would never be accustomed to the beauty of women. He supposed the lack of them in his childhood had something to do with that. Sheltered away in service to his grandfather, he had no time for women -- and his travels as a youth had been filled with such a strong purpose and then desire to run away from it all that he had been blind to them then as well. Only now, with thoughts in his head as a king and his desire to know all the subjects of Delumine did he see women. Strong and beautiful, he was surprised at how little he had considered the other sex although they had most certainly always been there. The mare called out her greeting, announcing her loyalties -- and Kasil found himself stopped again.

Dusk Court. Queen Rannveig.

Ah, how fortunate! And by Po’s enthusiastic, albeit hushed, greeting of this...Florentine, they could be considered a friend. Kasil is unaware of the brooding silence brought into the court by the young Charlemagne -- for he might have said something to him. Instead, the Sovereign was enraptured by the commotion created by the mare’s appearance. A smile lifts his features, his body ushered forward with a restrained pace that is meant to keep him from appearing too interested.

”Po,” Kasil said lightly, his dark gaze travelling over his friend -- before drifting to the mare. ”You know this young lady?” He asks, dipping his head in respect to the Dusk Court mare. ”Florentine, is it? Welcome to Delumine.”

Ipomoea is the first to come, and arrive he does to the rhythm of clicking feet upon smooth flagstone. Her amethyst eyes glitter in the soft-low light, now ready for the blush of rose and wreath of flowers atop his crown.
 
Florentine’s smile is wide as she lifts her nose to better stir the tendrils of her fringe and see the boy in his dawn light. “Ah,” She says, as if surprised, yet her voice is warm with knowing, gentle with welcome. “Ipomoea.” Flora acknowledges him, her muzzle brushing against his shoulder fondly. “Have you seen our eagle again yet?” To the skies her eyes lift, as if hoping, upon a whim, that the creature may fly there, for the pleasure of their gaze.
 
But alas, the eagle was not one to answer to their whims.
 
The flower girl’s skin tingles with knowledge of another’s arrival. She steps closer to Ipomoea, to better peer around his slender form and greet their newest arrival.
 
Yet her eyes descend upon a horn she knows too well, skin she knows the scent of and eyes whose colours haunt her most guilty of thoughts. Her stomach twists, her limbs so suddenly ill at ease. She shifts in place, stirred by his presence, her smile gone, passed like the sun behind the cloud of his stony countenance.
 
Their silence speaks a thousand words and sheds a thousand tears. And yet they let it draw on, just as tight, just as painful. The girl’s tongue is held tight and then tighter still, until she can no longer bear this stillness of silent words and tears. “Charlemagne.” She breathes at last, cool and pained. Florentine cannot place just what he is to her, she cannot sort the feelings his presence has stirred. He draws her anger, her upset, her every bad quality. She teased him until she drew pain, but only because he had (unknowingly) drawn blood first… Now she is the worst of herself within his presence and she hates it.
 
Their meeting lived on, within her, far longer than she would have liked. His passion for books awoke a curiosity she could not shift, until at last, she found herself within the Dusk Court library, surrounded by dusty tomes and scrolls of histories long ago lived. She fell asleep too soon, too fast.
 
She was no sage.
 
“How are your books?” She asks, with both spite and interest and it arrives upon her voice in a lightly broken melody.
 
The twilight girl is saved from further struggle when another man arrives. For a moment, still troubled by Charlemagne’s presence, her eyes flit to him and she bears no smile for the Dawn King. Just a lingering frown that is fading, and fading, too slow, too slow.
 
Her eyes flit to Ipomoea still close, still warm with greeting and she falls into his comforting presence.
 
You know this young lady?”
 
All at once, with his quiet words, the Dawn King leaves Florentine a tangle of shyness and longing. It had been so long since she had been called a young lady, the last lips to ever call her so was her father and with her dagger broken, she does not know when she will see his face again – if she ever may…
 
With thick lashes sweeping her cheek, dusted with Dawn’s new light, her breath fans out. When those lilac eyes open once more, her gaze is upon Kasil, a smile valiantly playing along her lips once again. “We have indeed met before. One morning in the forest, I came exploring and Po was kind enough to grace me with his company for a time.”


@Ipomoea @Charlemagne @Kasil

this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

He turns his own gaze skyward, the smile light and jovial across his lips. “I have not,” he confesses, leaning towards his new friend in easy companionship. “But I’m sure he isn’t far, if you stay you may just see him again.” The offer is subtle, as though to Po it would only make sense that she would stay in the Court of the rising sun for some time. Truly, he would not be disappointed if she did—and he would not have expected anyone to disagree.

The brooding stallion’s presence lingers in the back of his mind, a confusion he hesitates to address. It’s a demeanor he doesn’t quite recognize, a hostility he hasn’t yet encountered in his first few years of life, and it puts a sickly feeling right at the base of his withers, a discomfort he wishes to shake. Florentine’s reaction to the chestnut’s appearance does nothing to reassure him, in fact it has the opposite effect; if the girl of wings and flowers and smiles loses her charm at the mere sight of him, what good could come from his arrival?

But Ipomoea is ever the optimist, ever the inclusive type, even if the many signals he’s given from both Florentine and Charlemagne seem to scream otherwise. “I’ve not seen you before,” he says tentatively, but not meanly, in the direction of the horned man. “Have you come to watch the sunrise, too?” He wonders briefly if he visits the Court with Florentine, but the wondering is quickly dismissed. They certainly do not appear to be friends, much less traveling companions, if the dun girl’s curt words and abrupt frown were any hints to him.

The mention of books causes Po’s ears to perk, his avian friends head lifting slightly from his crown of feathers in interest. He wants to ask what kind of books, their subject, their length, their language—but this seems to be a dialogue meant for the man and woman and they alone, and he doesn’t wish to intrude any more than he already has.

The Delumine Sovereign appears then, and seems to save Po from his discomfort, sure and purposeful in his stride, his presence filling the courtyard at once. Ipomoea’s smile returns, wide and loud as always, as he takes a step and inclines his head in respect for the pegasus. Again, Kasil addresses him by name, and Po feels a flutter of joy in his chest, one he struggles to push back down before he makes a fool of himself.

“I do!” he exclaims, forgetting momentarily that the morning is meant to be quiet, to be still, that he should reflect it. He corrects himself: “I do. Her name is Florentine, and I call her my friend.” He casts his cerise eyes to the winged girl, his smile more tentative as he makes that assumption, hoping she would agree. He nods as she speaks, validating her story with himself as witness. “I hope our Court is as splendid as our forests?”



@Florentine @kasil @charlemagne

KASIL

He was happy with the easy camaraderie that Po and the mare shared, this Florentine. The bay stallion listened with contentment as they shared their knowledge of each other, without a single negative thing to say about the other. He smiled, nodding in the direction of the splashed stallion. ”That’s good to hear.” He said, his voice a lilting thing as his lips upturned. ”I would expect nothing less of my Emissary.” He spared only a glance, if only to see the surprise on Po’s face when he realized just what had happened.

The sovereign had been thinking a lot lately about his empty ranks, and who he would get to fill them since the meeting that he’d held with the court. Kaladin had made a good point at his initial meeting. His higher ranks were empty, despite the growth of his court. All for good reason, he counseled himself. But it was time to start making some hard decisions, and Po...the few times they had met, well...he had stuck out to Kasil. And he hoped, despite his youth, that the boy would grow into his role.

”Forgive me, I’m Kasil. He said, pausing as he noticed Charlemagne for the first time. How long had he been standing there...in the shadows? The king recalls the failed attempt to introduce him to Nimue, a twinge of regret causing him to step to the side and makes space for the sorrel to join them. ”Charlemagne, it’s good to see you again. Come, join us?” He indicated the space beside him, his ears twitching with an eagerness to hear the young stallion’s response.

He cleared his throat, turning back to the mare who had brought three stallion’s to her small gathering. ”What brings you back to Dawn?” He asked her, glancing between Po and Charlemagne. He had a sense that he was the odd one out here, the stranger.

There is some disappointment when Florentine replies, but it is short lived and fleeting. “I can think of no one better to join me,” he assures her, a hopeful smile accompanying his words. “I will be sure to seek your company above any other’s for them all.”

Ipomoea finds himself nodding along with the chestnut’s words, striving to make his smile as warm and encouraging as he could, though it remained small. “I’ve seen it in a few places myself, and here it seems the most magnificent of all,” he confessed, taking a bit of pride in having already traveled so far while still so young. “But there’s nothing quite like experiencing something you know in someplace new,” he added, not wanting to take away from the unicorn’s own wishes. “Watching the sun change positions would be incredible anywhere.” Aware now that he was rambling, he cut himself off a bit shorter than he meant to, hoping his smile would accommodate for it.

His attention is still focused on the brooding unicorn when his king speaks, and for an extended moment he does not quite realize what Kasil’s words mean. He hangs there, suspended in time, Florentine’s kiss nearly unnoticed. His eyes are saturated in surprise and wonder, locked on his king who seems to quickly focus himself on something, someone, else. Ipomoea opened his mouth to question him, to correct the king on his mistake (was it a mistake?) but his time is already up, and he can only sit there, a whispered “Thank you,” finally spoken as the sovereign turns away.

It is a slow thing to shake himself out of but he manages, the ringing in his ears soon replaced by Florentine’s voice. ’Boring stuff, really.’ He has half a mind to interject, to remind the dun girl that there is nothing boring about witnessing the birth of a new day, but his mind moves too slowly, and she is already speaking once more.

“A tour?” Ipomoea asks, thankful for the diversion his mind has been given. He spares a glance at his king, peering at him from beneath long eyelashes. “I think that could be arranged?”



@kasil @Florentine
def not the best but i wanted to get something out! i wasn’t sure if i should leave out charlemagne entirely since he’s been deleted but i had that part already written so i just went with it lol
”!!!”