[AW] Sea Brine & Weathered Rooftops

[Valerian]

He steps onto the ground feeling more the foreigner, more the beggar and thief than the supposed citizen. He is nothing as he walks the grounds, feeling out of sorts when a guard has yet to stop him in his tracks. To be safe, Valerian is exploring the outside structure for the time being. There are too many nice things – he thinks immediately. But beyond those shallow, simple notes, he can’t fathom much more.   Instead he’s found himself facing the steep cliffs. An old familiar ache runs the length of his dark wings; to thrust off the edge, plunge, and embrace the air. To inhale the water’s brine, become the restless spirit that turns them – forget and transform into wind and feather.   The stallion presses his wings closer to his sides. His dark gaze withdrawn, as the events prior to his arrival churn in a cacophony of noise, emotions, and images that flash disjointed and nonsensical in rhythm or time, unable to settle. They dance instead on the surface of his skin, taught, tense even as the wind sends her gentle hands through his mane and chest. He must abandon the familiar perhaps, or find ways of embracing it.   Neither option appears fathomable in the least. Valerian has failed in all accounts, and far too many times – that the efforts of having done so, show through his gaze. Just enough to send the glare of light against his eyes to dull. The afternoon sun is all that appears to comfort him for the time being. Her steady presence reminds him that he is indeed alive, and the air that he’s breathing keeps his heart beating, limbs steady. Mind racing.

credits :: blueshoodesigns
ooc: open for anyone

[Morpho]

MORPHO The butterfly girl watches from a distance, meadow green eyes focused on the stallion that approached the Dusk Court with a sense of curiosity and intrigue.  While she hadn’t been here long, the gentle mare had spent her days in the fleeting summer sun and her nights alone in the solitude of the dusk temple, pouring over texts to learn more about this strange world.  She hadn’t contributed much to the kingdom, nor had she made a bevy of friends, but here she was beginning to find something better – forgiveness.  Peace.  It was a strange sensation to find her mind lighter and able to focus on something beyond her own inner struggles… and perhaps now, it was the distraction of another that she needed to calm her restless heart. She steps from the shadows, a soft glow peeking from the amulet at her breast as she walks toward the stranger – unafraid, but still reserved.  The glint of the setting sun draws a shine from his silver-grey coat, and it blinks from her birdcatcher spots as she moves slowly closer to the stranger.  Bathed in the dying golden light, they are simply silhouettes on the horizon, and for several moments, Morpho watches the last remnants of day fade to dusk in silence. ”Hello.”  When she finally speaks, her words of greeting are simply and to the point, and she turns to find the stallion’s gaze, looking him quickly up and down, memorizing the lines of his face.  ”I am Morpho, sage of the Dusk Court.”  It felt strangely formal, hearing her own title, for she hadn’t belonged anywhere for some time now, and had begun to think of herself only as a nomad.  ”What circumstances brought you here?”  While perhaps a strange turn of phrase, the sage’s gold-lined ears flicked toward him, eager to hear the stories he brought with him from his wanderings… for as much as Morpho didn’t enjoy talking about herself, she lived to listen to others… and perhaps his story would strike a chord.

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