The sun glanced off his silver body as if it were a blade, skin like steel that flowed silkily over the supple curve of his alluring body, an suit of argent decadence that nuzzled into his razor cut bones. Velorca was on the prowl. He had preened himself this morning, ensuring his burnt butter eyes glowed serenely and that his storm coloured lashes were lengthy and elegant. His hair had fallen as it always did: perfectly, silkily straight and soft as a Terrastella morning. He'd tucked it back with an elegant pin - a golden serpent with a sparkling diamond for an eye, eye-catching a regal, or so he thought to himself as he smiled at the mirror.
As he'd left his room, cloak-less, the sun had tried to snatch grasps of his body, sliding from curve to curve desperately until he'd finally stepped into it's full embrace. Now he lay comfortably in the suns heat, basking upon expensive imported rugs as he read a scroll about the Rahilah, golden eyes sucking up the words swiftly and hungrily even as he batted his lashes at every passerby. He smiled languidly as he read, stretching often so as to show off the full, luxurious length of him, the utter perfection.
The sun bore down, endless and tyrannical, and Velorca thought nothing of the King that had just found his demise. He had told Maxence vengeance was coming, he had said that his reign would be short and bloody, and that Solterra did not need a foreigner for a King. The Commander had not listened, and their fierce home had punished him for it. He was simply a King in a long line of Kings, attempting to take control of a wild thing. There was no taming the Sun, nor the desert, nor the Davke.
Velorca stretched once more, his long limbs supple and smooth. A young soldier paused as he hurried by, staring for a moment too long to be casual. Let the politicians figure out what to do with the Courts, he had other matters to attend to.
Never did the desert daughter realize that she would return to the sands from whence she came. Regardless that the parched earth beneath her delicate gold hooves was not the same sands that bore her birthright; the dunes were one and the same. Endless waves of red and gold, much like the mortal coat she bore. A sunburst made flesh and bone, a mistress dancing into the heart of a foreign kingdom with the sun at her backside. She might call the shadows and stars of Night her forever home, but the land of the Sun would always sing it's ugly song to her. Full of ash and dust and rotting things.
She traveled like a wraith across the dunes; a red-gold blur in the heat wafting from the sands sliding under her in swirls. The kiss of winter threatened their world with frost and snow like cold starlight; the sun high above her laughing in answer. How dare Glacies leach this land of swelter and blood and tears made on sun-sweet skin. How dare the desert that sucked the life out of each fair breath suddenly succumb to the dead of winter, to the chill of cold settling into its bones. The sands themselves were alive and preening; patient and lethal, just as she. Awaiting any poor soul that stepped out line.. for perhaps Solis himself was the god of Death. Mila knew it in her core, to the marrow of her bones; that this kingdom was unscathed, brutal, and violent. She could almost taste the scream of sandstorms in the air, could almost feel the poison of vipers hiding in the crimson waves.
Mila had never hated the desert more than she did then.. not once. For she was the poison mistress; deadly and beautiful, soft and dangerous. Her own lips could bring Death, her bottled regrets fatal for any of the faint of heart. She was a lady Crow, after all; damn the Court that laid beneath her feet. She was the thing to be afraid of in the dark.. not the desert around her, nor the snakes hiding in the sands, or the murderers who called the King of this Court their Commander.
A phantom, a mist in the shadows, she had left. A ghost in the darkness, the lone twin vanished; blessed by a sea of stars, Calligo parted with her child as she defected to their enemy. Only temporarily, maybe only for a night, maybe not.. she did not know. Mila only knew one thing; that she needed answers, that the rumors of Maxence's demise were few and far between. Some whispers found themselves in the dark nook and crannies of her own kingdom; Veteris holding their own travelers in a night-blessed embrace. But she did not depend on them. Not when the Sun King had so arrogantly breached their borders, allowed by no one other than that god-forsaken gypsy herself. Not when Maxence had nearly defended the brutality over one of Reichenbach's own.
She could not stand for it.
So she disappeared. Without a note, save for her own regard and a kiss laid on her sister's pillow. The Crows would thank her later, when she received real answers, instead of drunken rumors made on bets and stories that smelled heavily of gin. The foreign court was sprawled at her feet, a stark opposite to the other side of their coin. Where the Night was passion and music and wildness, the Sun was unforgiving and sweat and blood and tears. The Children of the Night, like she, were shadows, melting in the dark with ease.. but here.. the sun was unrelenting. The pale orb burned high above her, the freckles of her skin mottled and soaking up every last drop of warmth. Winter laid just over the edge of the world, but She dared not touch this place. The soft stones soaked in the light and were washed out beneath it's touch. Her orbs narrowed against the bright white hanging above her, until her tired legs dragged her into a lick of shade.
Fire.. I am home with fire. She could almost imagine her skin tasting flames, as she slowly embodied the makings of a true Solterran. Fiery orange and blisters, heat caressing her like a lover. She attempted to embody a woman far older than she; to hone in the training of her fellow Crows as she melted into the crowds of soldiers. The muscles on her lithe frame defined under the blinding sun. Maybe, just maybe.. the golden twin could pull off her own feat.
Unless someone killed her first.
In her own musings, as she meandered through the sifting crowd of warriors prowling the streets, she almost missed it entirely. The sudden gleam of gold; of shimmering jewels catching the sunbeams in a perfect glow. Her own gem eyes glimmered, amused. Emerald orbs landed on a man made of marble; a storm grey that rivaled the lightning in a fellow woman's eyes, but unlike the blue of her, he was gold. Flecked in molten shimmer, the planes of him chiseled as if a god had crafted him out of stone. She realized such things, fleetingly, marking his beauty, but not the chaos hiding in the amber of his eyes. Instead, Mila had eyes for only one thing.. a treasure in the silk of his hair, a new pin to add to her collection. From several feet away, she didn't miss it; the unique serpent and the chunk of diamond at it's head. She would have it for her own, before her other motives took presidency. Surely she could indulge in one, simple, lovely golden hair pin.
He was close to her now, only a heartbeat as she passed him. She noted how he seemed almost purposely preoccupied in catching the attention of others, instead of the scrolls laid at his feet. A marvel, truly, but she saved the laugh that bubbled in her throat for later. Mila ducked her own gaze, emerald landing on the floor below, as she sucked a breath of dry air. Slowly, intimately.. only a hairsbreath away now.. the tendrils of her mind gingerly sneaking upwards.. higher.. there, she sighed, as her mind plucked the pin from his head and she stashed it in the wilds of her own mane.
Into the swell of the crowd, a knowing, playful smile on her lips. Greetings from the Crows.Now.. onto more important things.
@velorca be boop.. this turned into something entirely unexpected omg
He noticed her of course. How could his viperous gaze miss something so lovely? She was burnt copper and flame, with eyes of deep emerald and hair that even Velorca could envy. Her svelte frame was elegant and regal, honed but not extremely so — not like the warrior women of Solterra, who had either too little on their body or too much, honed fighting machines dedicated to their craft. Velorca, himself, was dedicated to an entirely different craft — the devastation in others' eyes when they beheld him. So he did notice her arrival, yet she merged so easily with the Solterran people that he paid no further thought to her, save to reflect on her beauty later.
He preened and stretched, practically purring at the heat that rolled over his storm coloured skin, long lashes brushing his razor sharp cheekbones as he began to read some more. The Rahilah were fascinating, a tribe so dissimilar from his own and yet... they shared the ancient Novus, the Novus that predated Courts and Kings. He pondered them, all the while churning others' secrets in his vast mind, plucking and inspecting to see what could be of use to him. He knew everything, knew everyone. Each new hoof that clopped upon The Sun Court was known to him, each whispered affair lingered in his ears — yet selfishly he kept the knowledge to himself, untrusting of the Court he called home.
He felt it then, the slow slide of something shifting upon his satin head. There was a small flash of gold and then all he saw was the curtain of his soft hair as it fell over his decadent face. He tossed it back, still lying upon his expensive rugs and glared at any passerby, lashes fluttering as he raised himself luxuriously.
The pin.
A low hiss crept from his throat as he realised what had been taken — yet he was confident he knew all thieves within the Keep, and it was rare for anyone in Solterra to be so taken by material things to steal them. No, this was someone new, someone different.
A slow smile curled upon his velveteen lips as he watched an elegant bun vanish into the crowd.
He did not trail her, though he knew where she was headed — what direction, at least. With nimble hooves he slid through the Court, tucking and dipping like smoke through passageways and people. He was agile and swift, a testament to his early Davke training, and arrived at the end of a hallway with enough time to make it look as if he hadn't been rushing. She would arrive momentarily, if he had been correct in assuming her path through the Court.
Velorca leaned casually against the stone behind him, and would have picked at his nails in faked boredom if he'd had any. She appeared, more beautiful even than he had thought, and younger too. He gave her a snakes grin, golden eyes flicking to the faint sheen of gold hidden beneath her shining hair.
"What is a Crow," he drawled the words sensually, "Doing here?"
@Mila bloop hope you don't mind the slight powerplay!
