It was a strange feeling, to find himself once again as a piece upon the board. Even if he had been born for it, his blood the blood of King's, of legends who bore their crowns and flew with dragons. Isorath appeared to never be able to truly shake the taste from his mouth, or the hum in his veins. Perhaps the weight was made pleasant and more tolerable by the fact it was not he who bore the brunt of it.
In any case, he is quick and methodic in enacting his first duty.
Delumine and her Court was the last section of the board, which hadn't felt the presence of the porcelain Kirin. So far, there are no unpleasant whispers which poured out of the land like insidious smoke. Nor a blackened smudge on it's name. Sun burned the Crows wings, as their blackened feathers drowned out his light. Dusk and Dawn glittered and glimmered on the sidelines, watching with interest.
Bedecked in his gilded bridle and crowned by his exquisite halo, Isorath descended on ivory wings. Elegant and otherworldly, lower and lower he circled in slow beats until cloven hooves kissed the stones one after the other, then they were hidden beneath his cloak as it fell in layered pieces around his lithe frame.
He can make out figures in the glass, hear the clack of hooves against stone within. If a curled ear strained, he can hear the murmur of voices and the crackle of fire. There is life within, and no doubt the stranger at their gates has caught their attention.
A gilded talon briefly touched upon the moon charm wrapped on a porcelain tine, standing out against the swathes of gold by it's simplistic beauty. It had become a source of comfort as of late, an ember of heat which flooded his body and caused a small smile to bloom.
Quietly, and serenely, he waited. A glittering vision with a purpose.
TAG: Terrastella's festival invite! it's open to anyone, but I'm tagging the 'big three' just to be safe @Kasil @Somnus @Ipomoea
He didn’t recognize the stranger that arrived on silent wings in the Dawn capitol’s courtyard.
Ipomoea had become used to at least recognizing—if not knowing—the many faces that drifted in and out of the capitol each day. There were the usuals of course: those who made their home within the walls of the city, a recurring presence that drifted outside his window with liveliness and purpose. The scholars, too, were as dependable as the sun. They glided back and forth between the library and the garden, quills and scrolls and the occasional book or ancient artifact tucked carefully into their robes for closer inspection. Ipomoea watched these particularly, intrigued by their expectant faces and the delicate way with which they held their books, their treasures, by the knowledge written in lines and furrowed brows across their faces. Then there were the merchants, arriving in pairs and groups and displaying their wares proudly for any to peruse, coming and going with the season.
This man was not among any of these groups, and yet he stood like he belonged there in the middle of the courtyard. In fact, his stance was reminiscent of Kasil, when Po caught him in one of those rare moments of peace and thoughtfulness.
It was the mystery surrounding him—and the purposeful way he held himself—that drew Ipomoea from the warmth of his room. As he trotted excitedly through the halls, he folded his wings snugly against his fetlocks as though bracing himself for the cold.
And cold it was, a rush of frosty air meeting him as he swung the great doors open and took that first step outside. His breath rushed visibly from his flared nostrils, a few sparse snowflakes gathering upon his snowcapped back. Speckled ears were pricked sharply forward as he got a closer look at the stranger, at the golden scales kissing the bridge of his nose and cheeks and throat. The horns gracing his head, too, were rather unique, and Ipomoea took a moment to appreciate the rather draconian appearance of the Terrastellan man before him, a man who might otherwise have blended into the snowy landscape winter found them in.
“Welcome to Delumine, stranger,” he finally greeted him, drawing closer with childlike trust and sincerity. “I am Ipomoea, Emissary of Dawn. I hope your flight was well, the air seems rather brisk today.”
It was with some restraint that he stopped several paces away in a show of respect for the other’s personal space—although his rosy eyes betrayed his desire to draw closer, to study the scales and the intricate horns, to peek beneath that cloak and see just how much of him was serpentine. For a brief moment, he wondered if his tongue would be forked, like a snake’s—and made a mental note to check if he got a chance.
“From where do you travel?”
As they stood, the snow began to spiral gently down upon them. It didn’t bother Po; it was as natural to him as sunshine to a Solterran, despite the chill settling upon his hooves and back.
In all his years, Isorath has never been exposed to so much snow and frosted wind. Oh, he has spied and crossed snowcapped mountains as the white flakes danced from the heavens, had the frigid talons of arctic chill prickle across his neck and exposed flesh. Those were fleeting, passing things, he had always weathered the Winter in warmer places, where winters white dress was the stories of haggard travellers and gruff vagabonds.
On reflection, momentarily drawn from the current thoughts which flittered through him, he wished he had spent more time among wintry landscapes. There was something about the pristine white, the soft melting flakes and the icles which hung proudly from slumbering trees which touched the soul with a sense of calm.
A different, almost sombre serenity adverse to the warm, contented peace one would find in the heat of summer.
All thoughts were interrupted when a stranger approached, lilac hues peering curiously through a thick curtain of snow white lashes as they approached. The delumine reminded him much of cherry wine and cream on hot summer days, with a frame that was arguably as feminine looking as his own. Gemstones a vivid shade for eyes, not unlike the pink opals he often saw set in gilded bridles and bracelets. Isorath's head tilted in interest, a curled earn flicked forward as his gaze dropped to the dainty wings at his feet.
Briefly, he remembered his initial thoughts when he had met another with wings not blessed for flight. How cruel for the God's to not bless a pegasus with flight.
Welcome to Delumine, stranger, I am Ipomoea, Emissary of Dawn. I hope your flight was well, the air seems rather brisk today.
"It was rather bracing," he replied silkily, with a hint of amusement coloring his words, "fortunate it was that I brought my cloak to stave off most of it."
He isn't opposed to the staring, or the curious glances artfully hidden as room observations. It's no secret that his own pride and vanity did not preen at the notion, soaking up the attention and glowing for it whenever eyes lingered a little too long. Some were more polite than others, waiting with polite restraint until they were invited closer. Like Ipomea, the twinkle in his eye was his only tell. "You can come closer, you know." He stated after a small period of silence, the smile on his pale features impish as the words drifted into the air. "I don't bite."
From where do you travel?
"Ah, where are my manners." Standing up straighter, cloven hooves shifted in the snow. "I'm Isorath, the Regent of Dusk Court. I'm here on behalf of Terrastella to invite you to join us for our Winter's End Festival. It will be a rather beautiful affair."
The latter part added as more as an after thought, lilac eyes finally left rosy pinks to gaze up at the heavens, smiling just faintly as the snow drifted and settled on his scaled bridge.
The reptilian scales sparkled magnificently when the light caught them, seeming to set the stranger’s coat on fire. Ipomoea was tempted to stare at them, captivated as he was by the many colors dancing across their smooth surfaces that invited him to draw nearer. He almost gave in; rarely had he seen colors so bright and pure as the one’s he was now presented with, captured within the stranger’s gemstones. Ipomoea couldn’t help but wonder: did this honey and cream layered man realize just what beauty he harnessed, the sheer worth of his skin?
But Ipomoea refrained from touching—barely.
”Fortunate indeed.” He nodded along agreeably, shifting his focus to the cloak being spoken of in an attempt to clear his mind.
Only to find himself distracted once more by the pastel colors and the gentle way it clung to, and covered, the entirety of his milky body, leaving much to the imagination.
It was a good thing the antlered man spoke again first, for if he hadn’t, Ipomoea might very well have never stopped his staring. An embarrassed smile tugged at the corners of his cherry stained lips, an apology present in his downcast eyes. ”Forgive me for staring, but I haven’t seen anyone else with such—scales—cast across their skin the way your’s are.” Of course, the scales weren’t the only thing Ipomoea was marveling (gawking) at; but the rest he could keep to himself for now. A blush heated his face, a few shades brighter than his already rosy cheeks. Of course, neither of these were enough to stop him from drawing closer by several steps, delighting in the company of this grinning man.
”Isorath,” he repeated, curiosity cooling the heat of his abashed face. ’I did not realize the Dusk Court had a new Regent.’ Not that he had met the last one, Maní; he never had taken up Florentine’s offer to visit the southern Court. ”We would be honored to join the Dusk Court in your festivities. It’s been too long since I, personally, spent time in Terrastella; it’d be a lie to say I didn’t miss it,” the admission slipped uncensored past his lips. Even when trying to be formal, Ipomoea couldn’t help the familiar way he addressed even strangers, as if everyone were a long lost friend of his.
Curiously, he watched Isorath’s head tilt back as if to welcome the incoming snow. He traced the line of his jaw up to his ivory antlers with a lazy gaze, leaning in subconsciously as he did. With a jerk, Ipomoea snapped himself back to attention.
”Would you like to come in from the cold, for a bit? We have cider and cocoa to warm you, perhaps I can summon King Kasil for a proper meeting.”
