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+---- Thread: [AW] the wolf in a lion pride (/showthread.php?tid=887)
the wolf in a lion pride - Rannveig - 09-13-2017
When the snows fall and the white winds blow
She comes to lead them to glory
She comes to lead them to glory
She was from a land of eternal snow and ice. She was born to blizzards and grew in the arms of a court known for its frozen hand.
She was a child of winter, the daughter of wolves.
And she stood in the summer-riddled heart of Solterra.
The words they spoke in the lands of desert reached her in the far corner of the Dusk kingdom, sea waves crashing in time to the lyrics of their voices. Velorca's gaze upon Florentine's skin laced itself against her imagination, and had she any paws they would be sunken into the concrete floor of the tower with claws stuck deep inside. Her own name hung heavy on their lips but that was not all her flowered Emissary had told her after the encounter with the Day King; there was talk of alliance, of the trading of services and goods between the two courts. It was but a moment that she took time to fasten her wolf's coat around her star-painted body and left the confines of her room in the tower.
The sun's rays claimed each space she moved, wading through heat and grass-turned-crag to find the land of Day. In her year before turning to Vespera's alter, she never crossed the borders of Night after seeing those of Dusk--she hadn't visited the lands of sand, nor those of knowledge-seekers. It was past-time for her to witness the other Courts of Novus, but she found it fitting that the first venture to Day be under the intent to find Maxence.
Several moons rose and went between her leaving and then her arrival to the orange-plagued landscape. Through it all she thought only of Florentine's recap of the meeting she'd had, the obvious conclusion leading her back to Rann's side for deliberation on the questions proposed. She hadn't wasted time on one decision: she would face the Lion King herself.
Pulling up as the sole figure outside of the encampment, a bustle of activity laying just behind the walls, she merely sat and watched those of Solis pass. Just as Maxence had not invaded the inner part of her tower, she would not step through the entrance until guided by one of their own. But her presence would be well known (perhaps not her identity) to any who saw, her creams and blues a softness amid their harsh colors.
The wolf had given herself over to the pride, alone, prepared to face each cub that would surround her.
She was a child of winter, the daughter of wolves.
And she stood in the summer-riddled heart of Solterra.
The words they spoke in the lands of desert reached her in the far corner of the Dusk kingdom, sea waves crashing in time to the lyrics of their voices. Velorca's gaze upon Florentine's skin laced itself against her imagination, and had she any paws they would be sunken into the concrete floor of the tower with claws stuck deep inside. Her own name hung heavy on their lips but that was not all her flowered Emissary had told her after the encounter with the Day King; there was talk of alliance, of the trading of services and goods between the two courts. It was but a moment that she took time to fasten her wolf's coat around her star-painted body and left the confines of her room in the tower.
The sun's rays claimed each space she moved, wading through heat and grass-turned-crag to find the land of Day. In her year before turning to Vespera's alter, she never crossed the borders of Night after seeing those of Dusk--she hadn't visited the lands of sand, nor those of knowledge-seekers. It was past-time for her to witness the other Courts of Novus, but she found it fitting that the first venture to Day be under the intent to find Maxence.
Several moons rose and went between her leaving and then her arrival to the orange-plagued landscape. Through it all she thought only of Florentine's recap of the meeting she'd had, the obvious conclusion leading her back to Rann's side for deliberation on the questions proposed. She hadn't wasted time on one decision: she would face the Lion King herself.
Pulling up as the sole figure outside of the encampment, a bustle of activity laying just behind the walls, she merely sat and watched those of Solis pass. Just as Maxence had not invaded the inner part of her tower, she would not step through the entrance until guided by one of their own. But her presence would be well known (perhaps not her identity) to any who saw, her creams and blues a softness amid their harsh colors.
The wolf had given herself over to the pride, alone, prepared to face each cub that would surround her.
this can be for anyone!
@Maxence since this is directly for you <3
@Velorca since you're mentioned
RE: the wolf in a lion pride - Velorca - 09-14-2017
glitter and gold is the man in the chair
rings on his fingers, and a hardened harsh stare
LANGUAGE WARNING
rings on his fingers, and a hardened harsh stare
LANGUAGE WARNING
He was laying upon silk sheets as he looked out the window, golden eyes lazy as they swept the endless desert past the walls of the keep, picking up pieces of information as they went. He saw her perhaps before anyone else had - ha! How disappointing for a Court that was supposed to be organised in such a militaristic fashion. Still, Lorca didn't want to lose his advantage, so he slipped from his bed in a long, lugubrious stretch, his satin skin gleaming in the sunlight as each muscle tensed and released. A low sigh slipped from his velveteen lips at the sensation and he shrugged his shoulders, sensually enjoying the roll of muscle over bone. But enough of admiring himself, time for business.
His step was graceful but unhurried - and of course he had to pause by the water to preen for a moment. He was looking beautiful as ever, with skin like steel gleaming in the hot sunlight, his hair soft and straight as it surrounded his razor-boned face. A smile curled upon his lush lips as he slid around the corner, cat-like, drawling as he went:
"So the Winter Wolf has decided to bless us with her presence... how lovely."
The words were lethargic and sarcastic, dripping from his lips like poisoned honey. Velorca cared more for Novus than he liked to admit, and, being a sage (though nobody in the castle thought he had a job, considering all he did was laze in the sunlight and have sex late into the night) knew more than it seemed.
"If you're looking for an alliance you're here at a very inopportune moment... for you."
His thoughts flashed swiftly to Rostislav, their unknown, silent prisoner. Oh yes, if Rannveig wanted an alliance, she would be allying into a Court soon to be at war. Dusk had many healers - a resource Maxence would be quick to use. Velorca almost snorted, those sensual lips curving into a bitter smile. War. Again.
How. Fucking. Original.
@Rannveig @Maxence oops sorry he's an actual fckhead
RE: the wolf in a lion pride - Seraphina - 09-20-2017
It didn’t take long for the Emissary to arrive.
Seraphina had always been a terribly good listener – quiet women often were. As she began to settle into her role as Emissary, her natural predisposition towards perceptiveness had only been honed, and she’d learned where to listen for secrets, and rumors, and, most important of all, news. She’d caught wind of the coming of the star-painted Queen of Terrastella in the days before she had arrived, perhaps as soon as her hooves graced the hot desert winds, and, in the time that followed, she had worked relentlessly on developing some sort of strategy to bring her to their side. Solis willing, they needed the Dusk Court as any ally; they’d alienated Denocte, if not provoked their aggression outright, and she’d heard little from Dawn, save that they’d offered soil for the garden – but they were hardly a nation of warriors to begin with.
As she passed through the walls surrounding the fortress, however, she found herself greeted by an offensive sight alongside the Wolf-Queen; she had to resist the urge to roll her eyes, because he would be here, wouldn’t he? How predictable. “Velorca,” She hissed through gritted teeth as she brushed by the silver stallion, eyes equal parts ice and fire narrowing fractionally at the snake of a man, because he was a snake – tragically beautiful and twice as venomous. If he’d use his words with a bit more tact, she was certain that his mind would get him places, but he seemed abrasive and outspoken by nature; she might have found his bluntness charming, if it didn’t so often seem to interfere with her own duties.
He didn’t command her attention for long, however; she dipped her head in solemn greeting to the mare. “Welcome to Solterra, Lady Rannveig. Maxence will be with you any moment.” (She hoped that he would be, anyways.) Though her tongue slipped uncomfortably over the foreign queen’s name, Seraphina’s words were simple, polite, and impossibly cold; her expression was inscrutable, and any apprehension that brewed and tangled in snaking knots in her throat was kept buried far beneath her skin. She lingered, swallowing her own impatience, and waited for her sovereign.
@Velorca @Rannveig @Maxence ahahahahhahahaha I have no muse right now sorry that this is awful <3
RE: the wolf in a lion pride - Maxence - 09-22-2017
HEAVY LIES THE HEAD THAT WEARS THE CROWN
A pride always closed in upon lonesome stragglers, so perhaps it was unwise for Lady Rannveig to come alone. The commander certainly had not expected the visit, though still he did not fret or tremble when he beheld her dusk-touches breath or eyes of winter ice. A single lion never feared a lone wolf, let alone one surrounded and disarmed. It was from his chamber window that he watched the woman approach, a snarl curling upon his lips of ivory as Velorca slithered forth to meet her. How unfortunate; their meeting was already poisoned by that viper. Before the grey could do any more damage, Maxence had descended the tower in a flurry and swoosh of clopping hooves and lashing feathers; the stairs were never a match for the sure footed soldier, even as he soared down them at great speed. Landing at a halt in the rose-lined terrace with a vibrant trill from his nostrils, Maxence was soon to gaze upon the approaching Seraphina (thank Solis) who perhaps held a similar intention - to rescue the drowning audience before it had even begun. "If you're looking for an alliance you're here at a very inopportune moment... for you." These were the words that the lion king approached to, his perpetual scowl only deepening with distaste for the innapropriate greeting Velorca had chosen (though trly he expected nothing less from that snake). "Velorca-" Maxence snorted, tempted to bare teeth and give the brute a well-earned jab to the shoulder. In the presence of the wolf queen though, it would have to wait. "Lady Rannveig" Maxence uttered rather cordially, the strangest of smiles twitching upon his face - clearly an attempt at a more amiable, welcoming expression through an angered and agitated face. "What brings you to the desert?" @Rannveig :D |
RE: the wolf in a lion pride - Weir - 09-23-2017
W e i r Weir had only heard rumors of Rannveig’s departure earlier today but was unsure on if she had departed already. Weir had gone to the court and inquired if she was within but got word that she had left a short time before Weir’s arrival. Weir didn’t know what to do. She feared for her sovereign. The day court is a place far away and mysterious. They are a kingdom of warriors. Out of all the courts, it is the one that Weir knows least. There are many things she would like to know about them. Weir also thought about her position as Champion of Community. Is it her place to join uninvited? Perhaps it would be good for another body from the dusk court to be there so that Rannveig would not be alone. Weir spun and started towards the day court. She could not have her sovereign there in a pack of lions as a lone wolf. Weir knew they would have a fight on their hands and she is more than capable to handle the situation but it always helps to have a friend. She never did catch up to Rannveig but she could see her in the distance when she crested over hills. It wasn’t until she had reached to borders of the day court that Weir finally got close and slowly followed her queen into the lion’s den. Weir felt the hot sun on her pink skin and the brush of the grains of sand in the winds. She already felt parched and thirsty but she decided she must continue. She carried the spirit of her goddess since her recent visit to worship her at the peak. Her ears cautiously observed the horses that she can see. She continues with her posture confident but in no way aggressive. Honestly, she is not a warrior, she is a healer but her horns are nothing to be taken lightly. Eventually, she saw Rannveig stop at the gates of the dusk court and within a relatively short span of time three horses approached her from within. This is something Weir had feared might happen. Who knows how much more will arrive? The first one seemed more like a snake than a horse in the way he held himself and the gleam in his eyes as he spoke. The next is a familiar female whose eyes seemed kind and she showed respect. The last one was certainly the lion. He walked and talked as if power could pour from his pores. He seemed cordial but Weir did not know any of these people. Weir stepped to the side of her sovereign calmly and with poise. She did not try to outshine her sovereign in any way. She did not stand nose to nose per say but one step back. Weir looked over towards her queen before speaking briefly. Hello Rannveig. I hope you don’t mind some familiar company. A warm and loving smile creased her face as she looked onto a queen that Weir thinks is well chosen and so far, has raised no suspicions in Weir’s heart. Now she looked onto the gathering of strangers with a cordial smile and kind eyes upon each one of them. She had no thoughts going into this and she plans to keep an open mind. Hello everyone. I am Weir. I am the Champion of Community in the dusk court. I am just here to support Rannveig. @Rannveig @Velorca @ Hope you guys don't mind me jumping in. :D |