May the flowers remind us why the rain was necessary
Oh, little sparrow, you just can't seem to keep those little hooves planted on the ground.
It wasn't that long ago that Mother had ushered you into Helovia. It was that beautiful promised land, a haven of flowers and warmth and a promising future, that had set you both on that pigrimage. She had told you stories of its sanctuary, of its sweeping valleys and arching hills, of the endless blue of the sky, of its countless stars. She told you how it would be home. At the time you never knew how it would welcome you with loss, how it would snuff out Mother's light in a single breathless moment. But it couldn't dull the bright amber gold of your eyes, how you saw beauty in all that which the light of day touched, found comfort in the pallid light of the moon. But from your loss, new love flourished as the Constrictor took you in. You found yourself loving Ktulu as any child would love a mother, and your need for her protection fostered something that many never find again after the loss of a parent. And though she may have seemed cold, impatient, rough around her own broken edges, you knew that she must have grown fond of you as well.
But sometimes promises are empty, and though Mother knew not what she was delivering you to, Helovia had already been claimed. Darkness had breached the light, and had consumed all that had been granted. A terrible force had struck down the gods, ripped open a great portal, and again another promise was given to you as you were pushed through.
”I’ll see you on the other side.”
And with that you fell away, the air sucked out of your lungs, your wings flapping feebly, your companion clinging to the softness of your mane. And with that, the world ended.
--------
Unf!
For a moment, she just lays there. She is a mound of tangled wings, lanky legs, and ruffled mane. Small feathers, light as a breath of fresh air, slowly float to the ground, ripped from her as she had tumbled through the void. Her sides betray her broken form, their gentle and steady rise and fall giving proof that she's still alive.
She may not know much, but one thing she can be sure of, is that being alive is much better than being dead.
Awareness slowly seeps back into her mind as she comes to. An ear flicks and pivots, and nostrils flare as they sip in the fresh air. The atmosphere seems empty, light, so light, compared to the scene she had just exited. Death, fear, the acrid stench of smoke and dark magic. For minutes after, the stench clings to her nose as her lungs try to replace it with clean air. It's amazing, really, how loud silence can be when it follows such cataclysmic sound.
Slowly her eyes open, and she tries to blink away the bright flashes of teal light that had blinded her golden gaze just moments ago. She notices the pale sunlight, notes that it may be late day, and takes a moment to let the warmth of the dying afternoon warm her weary muscles. The grass beneath her is cool, and though she wishes to lay for just a little longer, something inside her persuades her to move, to stand, to collect her bearings, to notice how so much isn't right.
She groans as she lifts herself up onto shaky legs. Each wing is extended, shaken, and she counts to be sure they're all there. She reaches slowly towards a wing joint to learn a few misplaced feathers, and notices a deep scratch into her fur.
Grim.
An intense twist of nausea swells in her gut, and she nearly wretches. The genet's mind, who's incessant grumpy chatter has filled her mind since the moment they bonded, is lost to her. His absence from her soul is nearly painful, and tears spring to her eyes. "Gr-Gremlin?" She whispers his full name into the open air, hoping he may emerge from any shadow or crawl out from any hole. "Grim, please don't be gone." But she shouldn't cry. No, Tootaloo wouldn't want that. Ktulu.”Shit,” she coughs through her teeth, the sound choked by her constricting throat. The curse, which she learned from the older mare, is a clear indicator that she is realizing what is happening. Which is obviously way too much to all happen in one day. First, like so many people died, and now the two closest to her (three if you include Eytan, the bear companion to Ktulu, who she had come to love as well) have simply vanished. Had the portal thrown them somewhere different entirely? Was she alone again?
No. She needs to put her big filly pants on and start moving in the right direction. The last time she had a breakdown was when Mother had died, and Ktulu had called her stupid for refusing to stand and live, since all she wanted in that moment was to fade away like her mother had. So today she would brush off the dust, move forward, and survive. She refuses to be a victim, refuses to become dinner to any predators that may call this place home.
So, on lanky legs, she begins to march forward. Then she stops. Turning around, again she proceeds forward with proud purpose, before stopping again. Scowling, she claps her wings against her sides, and looks around.
It's hard to move towards the future, when you have no idea where the future lives.
“Shit,” he swore, but the sound of it was swallowed by the mighty boom of a trick gone wrong. Powder coughed into his face, darkening his chest with soot, and he waited until it began to fade away into the sunshine and grass to shake himself, dog-like, scattering a smaller billow of black.
It was just as well that no one had heard him; curses had a way of sounding far too loving from Acton’s lips.
He’d come all the way out here to practice, half because he hated to have an audience when a trick wasn’t quite right and half because a few of the other Night Court citizens had begged him to. Evidently random explosions and streams of inventive swearing were only welcome in certain hours and certain neighborhoods of their fair country. It was more the former that convinced the buckskin; he feared no repercussions from Calligo’s people. Nor from any others, to be honest.
But it wasn’t going his way, today. With a sigh that only momentarily chased away the grin he always wore when working with his powders, he shouldered the leather bag across his back and turned toward the citadel.
He did not make it far through the autumn afternoon before a figure a little further down the slope caught his eye, and he paused to watch. All sorts of funny-looking creatures tended to wander and find welcome in Denocte, but he’d never seen one before with quite so many wings – it marked her immediately as a stranger, for though he didn’t pay much attention to those who passed through, he was intimately aware of the ones who came to the Crows’ performances. And that was everyone who lived permanently in the Night Court.
So she was new, or she was an interloper. If it was the latter, she was a terrible one, marching this way and that with no sense of direction. His smile curled his lips, and he might have watched her in secret for some time – except she looked around and caught sight of him.
Naturally he took it as an invitation. The buckskin swept down the hill, amber eyes bright behind the black marking he’d worn like a mask since birth, and strolled forward until they were nearly nose-to-nose before sweeping down in a bow. It was difficult to tell, with Acton, if it was mocking or gentlemanly or meant to be neither.
“You smell weird,” he said, because she did, though he had no room to talk. Acton smelled like black powder and something vaguely sulfuric, but he’d long since grown used to the scent. “Headed somewhere particular?”
May the flowers remind us why the rain was necessary
As she paces she looks, gaze tracing the graceful slopes of the prairie’s hills. It wasn’t until the distinct sound of an explosion draws her attention, and her heart races. Had the devastation followed her here? Over the crest of the hill appears a form, and as the body pauses, so does Akeli. So many possibilities rush through her mind. Friend or foe? Was she in danger, or was this sprawling expanse free land? Should she run, attempt to take flight, flee across the land until her hooves carried her home? Or should she stay, wait to see how the interaction would play out? She turns carefully, letting her body face the stranger, and as he begins moving purposefully towards her, she knows that her already limited options had just decreased to one. Certainly she could run, but where would she go? Besides, no horns crown his brow, and no wings gifted him with flight. She had both, and sure, she has no idea how to fight, and should she need to it would probably be a comical sight to watch her flounder and flap around, but at least it was something to give her comfort. Maybe Tootaloo could teach her how to defend herself. She had always been around to protect the growing girl.
Life is different now, little sparrow. You are alone.
The filly is doing a good job keeping the intrusive thoughts at bay, but quickly she acknowledges that she is no longer beneath the watchful shadow of Ktulu. She may never know that kind of sanctuary again. But regardless of whether or not her pseudo-mother was transported here or on an alternate timeline all together, right now Akeli is no painfully alone and vulnerable. She lifts her head, tossing her forelock to the side, and a smile plays upon her lips. But as the stallion approaches, she feels a certain weakness in her knees. Her wings shuffle nervously, and she takes a single step back as she leans onto her haunches. The stallion, marked at birth with pale smoke and brilliant gold, is suddenly soooo close, and her nostrils flare and ears twist for just a moment before he drops into a sweeping bow. She rights herself, head tipped to the side, and tries to figure out what’s happening. Never before has she been greeted in such a way. Perhaps that was customary here?
Well, when in Rome…
Her features soften, and she herself mimics the grandiose salutation. A slim leg bends, and she is bowing too, her wings opening with a gentle shrug of her shoulders. She looks up, catching his golden eyes with her own honey gaze, and slowly she stands. ”You smell weird.” Her face remains stoic, but she can’t help to notice how a certain acrid smell rises away from him. No, little sparrow, I agree, you don’t smell that bad in comparison. Perhaps all who travel these lands emit a sulphuric aroma? Her nose scrunches as she tries to prevent inhaling more of the foul smell burning the inside of her nostrils. Something about it makes her uneasy. “I don’t think I smell that weird. But maybe it’s where I’m from that’s different? I’m not from around here.”
“Headed somewhere particular?” Now, wasn’t that a loaded question. Sure, she doesn’t have an exact target in mind, but her search isn’t so much for a where, but for a whom. It takes her a pregnant moment to formulate an answer. “I don’t think so. Honestly, I was just kind of dropped here. From somewhere else.” Was that something that happened here? Did people frequently fall out of the sky? “I’m not even sure where I am, so I guess that could mean I don’t know where to head.” She casually shrugs her shoulders, dismissing her odd arrival flippantly. Should he inquire further, she would tell him more, about how her home was no more, how she had watched so many people blown to bits in fire and brimstone, how the air had smelled remarkably like him.
As the realization hits her, she takes another small step back. No tears spring to her eyes, nor does her demeanor shift in any drastic way. But she feels her stomach clench, and a certain nausea fills her gut. “A lot has happened today, before getting here. I actually was separated from my… from my mother.” For the first time, she calls Ktu as such. Her mother. A woman who had taken her in, had cared for her, had been sure to keep her from being eaten by something bigger than her right out of the gates. Had Ktulu made it through? Had she made it here, or somewhere else? Or in those final dying moments as Helovia had been consumed, had she, too, been consumed by the glaring teal light?
“What is this place? Where are we?” Questions, questions, so many questions. That much hadn’t changed about the young girl. “Oh, and my name is Akeli. It’s nice to meet you, sir.” With that she falls silent, hoping he may provide any answer. Though, any answers may prove to create new questions. Still, there was so much to learn, so much to know, and he had been the one to find her.
Maybe he would be her first friend in this extravagant new world.
His grin broadened when she returned the sweeping gesture and he cast his amber-eyed gaze once more across her young figure, from velvet-fuzzed antlers to black-tipped primaries. She seemed terribly young to be wandering alone, but that only meant she’d probably fit right in at the Night Court.
They had a way of collecting unaccompanied minors, as he knew better than most.
Acton found that he liked her already – for returning the silly bow, for not being too afraid (not that she showed, anyway), for not taking offense to…well, anything about him. He cocked a hind leg and flicked his white-marked ears forward as she worked her nose into a scrunch, making a hmm sort of noise as she spoke.
She was very forthcoming. More than he would have been, anyway, had he been little more than a foal approached by someone who smelled of sulfur and grinned too wide – but maybe where she came from there were no liars, no men who might be sharks. One way or another she would learn; if she was lucky, someone would teach her the nice way.
Acton was not in the habit of taking on apprentices. That was Reichenbach’s thing. But nevertheless his expression shifted itself into soft concern, though he rolled a shoulder in a shrug as careless as her own. “Well, clearly you’re from somewhere else. If you weren’t, I’d know you. Or at least the smell of you.” He extended his pale nose for another pointed sniff just as she stepped back, and thus had a front-row seat to the way her face changed.
As a performer by blood and love, he knew what it was to act, and knew, too, how to read most emotions that could cross a face. He did not press his nearness as her expression shifted (something like worry, but darker), but his head cocked, curious. Crow-like. But the girl saved him the need to ask.
Acton was a lot of things, not all of them good. But he was not cruel to lost children, or orphans, or maybe-could-be-orphans. “Ah,” he said, the sound softer than most he made. He searched for something else to add, something soothing and kind, but that was also Reichenbach’s territory, or maybe Freya’s. Before anything can find its way from brain to lips she continues on again, once more impressing him.
Whatever else she might be, she was awfully resilient for the kind of day she’d had.
The buckskin relaxed again at the questions, his smile returning before he’d even realized it had faded. It was not quite the broad grin it had been at the outset – it seemed untoward, given what she’d told him - but it might as well have been, with the showy way he gestured to the rolling prairie around them. “We’re in Sideralis Prairie, territory of the Night Court, undisputed jewel of Novus –" He might have continued, except he was caught by the word sir, and had to pause to laugh.
If Raum or the twins had heard him called that, he’d never hear the end of it. They’d make him steal from a thousand men before they’d refer to him as anything else.
“I’m far from a sir, I’m afraid. My name is Acton, and the pleasure is mine, Akeli.” He paused, reshouldering his leather bag as it shifted near his elbow, and gave the girl a more assessing look. “I’m headed back to the keep now. I think it’d be best if you’d join me – maybe your mother will find her way there, too.” The buckskin motioned toward the Night Court, too distant yet to see, but he would not press her to follow.
For Akeli, today was evidently the day where she would have to pick her own path.
@Akeli :D thank goodness I love puns. also sorry for the novel, clearly neither he nor I know restraint xD
May the flowers remind us why the rain was necessary
In a world that had been turned upside down, having names to put upon the places somehow begins to make the transition easier. I mean, to be fair, it’s hard to make this sort of day easier, but progress is progress and she needs to take what she can get. Her affinity for conversation helps as well, and though eventually her astute ability to be forthcoming may prove to be inconvenient, right now she has nothing to hide. Why wouldn’t she try to carry on a discussion with anyone who would listen? Despite the fact that sometimes, a bit of silence was nice.
“The Sideralis Prairie,” she repeats, tasting the name upon her tongue, “of Novus.” Hm. So, little one, seems as though is may be the promised land the gods had offered upon their sacrifice. It seems nice enough, with the vast fields of golden grasses, and the softening scent of autumn. A smile returns to her lips as he dismisses her niceties. She enjoys the causual tone he places over the conversation. It helps relieve some of the pressure of talking to a stranger. Her honey eyes look out to where the performer gestured, and she drinks in the sight. Though no grandiose scene grew out of the ground before them, she could only imagine what adventure awaited past the confines of the prairie. There’s an entire world out there, and she wants to taste it. Perhaps the girl could find a home in the Night Court. Perhaps if Ktulu was gone forever, they would take her in…
“Sure,” she chirps, forcing her mind back to the conversation at hand. She begins to walk, her gait light and nearly a prance, hoping Acton may lead her, else she would most likely keep walking for miles until she could walk no more. “I’d love to. I can’t promise I’ll stay long. Me and my mother, we were wanderers back at home.” Again a pang of sadness strums upon her heartstrings. “Well, where home used to be. It’s not there anymore. There were a couple of herds, but we didn’t join any of them. I think Mama preferred the solitude that came with wandering. But I never asked.” Again she shrugs. The Constrictor had been a wanderer, an outcast, and though Akeli has never known why the woman chose the life as a vagabond, she never questioned it. Sometimes, people just wanted more than what a herd could offer. And that was enough for her. She looks to him, wanting to learn more about the stallion she was blindly following. Perhaps not the best idea, to follow a stranger home, but oh well. She had no reason to worry. Not yet, anyways.
“So what do you do here? You smell different, too—“ she punctuates the comment with a wink, as to not offend her new comrade, “—were you burning something? I don’t have magic to make fire, but I have my sparking rock. My Mother, well, my first one, it was hers.” She dips her head, displaying the tallest tine on her small rack of antlers, where a dull flint stone lays tightly secured with a sturdy thread of twine. “Do people here have magic?” A light laugh escapes her, and she looks to him playfully. She drapes the distraction of conversation over her worry like a heavy sheet, obscuring them from view. “Sorry for all of the questions. I guess it’s your unlucky day, having to deal with my inquisitions. But if I’m staying here for a while, I might as well learn a thing or two about the place.”
It was, he thought, a good day – even if his powders and plans weren’t quite cooperating. The sun was bright, the day was warm in the kind of way that was a gift at this time of year, and there was something pleasant about having the filly trailing after him. She filled the air with talk, putting him in mind of a particular kind of songbird from his youth, a kind that wasn’t found in Novus.
“We have a few wanderers, here,” he said, amber-eyed gaze flicking back to her before settling again on the horizon. “Gypsies, technically. It’s always a party when they pass through the citadel.” With the days shortening and the temperature dropping, they should be passing through again soon – autumn was bonfire season, in Denocte. It made a good time for reunions – hopefully Akeli would find one of her own.
The buckskin felt her eyes settle on him and flicked his tail at her, his mouth shaping into a secretive grin at her question. He slowed enough that they were walking beside one another, working their way up a low rise. At the top of it, he knew, their fair capital would be finally visible.
“I perform,” he answered her, which was more or less true. “I was practicing. Some of my acts involve black powder, which is the smell – and the reason I was so far afield.” He leaned in to look over the dark fuzz of her antlers, making an impressed-sounding exclamation at the flint. “Your mum would be proud you’re so well prepared,” he said, though having never known a mother himself, he couldn’t really be sure.
A swallow darted by, a slim dark figure through the blue, and his gaze tracked it until her laugh drew his attention again. “Some do,” he said with a nod, thinking of Reichenbach’s singing, far more than an ordinary lullaby. But then there was Raum, and the Twins, and most everyone else he knew, including himself. They had no magic – but you wouldn’t know it by watching them. “Others make their own, through practice.” Pausing, Acton flicked an ear toward her, eyes suddenly keen. “Do you have magic?”
They were near the top of the hill. Acton knew intimately the view that lay ahead, but that didn’t mean his breath didn’t catch every time he saw it. The court would lay sprawled below, shadow and sun below the clouds, the hills rising behind it so it looked like the deepest jewel in a crown. The buildings were tall and lovely, though they did not show themselves best in the slanting light of afternoon – night, of course, was where they came alive.
But it was still an impressive view nonetheless, and he watched her closely as they crested the hill. “I’d distrust you if you weren’t asking questions,” he said, “and I’ve had enough unlucky days to know this isn’t one. Hopefully you can find the answers you’re wanting – welcome to Denocte.”
May the flowers remind us why the rain was necessary
As they walk, she listens intently, trying to form a mental image of the world he discusses. She imagines beautiful horses, adorned with silk and chiffon and metal coins glancing gold in the warm sunlight as they danced through open fields. She had no image for “citadel,” nor could she possible imagine cobblestone streets or architecture of any kind. She had never seen anything like that before in her last home. Still, the though of parties and dancing made her want to prance herself; that sounded like the life. Perhaps, should the wind blow the right way and the wildflowers call to her, she would drift out of town with them during their next pilgrimage?
Moving on, she listens to what he does, and is intrigued. It sounds like this world is full of performers and exuberant living. “Do you do shows? I’d love to see you perform!” With that she puffs our her chest, tossing her head jovially as she tries to contain herself following the compliment on behalf of her mother. “Thank you, I hope she would be. It’s all I have left her. Though, every time I make fire, I imagine she’s a part of it.” A small laugh slips free. “I know that sounds a little silly, but I take what I can get. But otherwise, no, I have no magical means of doing anything. My mama, Ktulu, she has magic. Never told me what it was, but I never saw her use it. Someday, perhaps I will be blessed, but for now, I need to make it on my own. I’d love to be a healer, so maybe I could find magic to aid me in that.”
Again she smiles, walking easily beside him. He seems kind, and she is appreciative that she received such a warm welcome upon her arrival. It helped make the loss a little easier to swallow.
The hillside gave way, and a sigh, the softest ”oh”, slipped free from her as she took it in. The city, nestled within the hills, stood radiant and strong within the fading green. Her amber gaze follows the rolling horizon, and she remains breathless. A small step, tentative, hesitant, draws her that much closer, and finally she speaks. “It’s beautiful, I’ve never seen anything like it.” That was true. Nowhere in Helovia had buildings towered; there had been a single rotunda roofed with stained glass, but otherwise, they lived upon unbridled undeveloped landscapes. She wondered what the buildings held, what other mysterious wonders this world holds. Once her honey gold eyes take in as much as they can, she looks back to her counterpart.
She stretches out a wing, playfully brushing it against the stallion. “Thank you, Acton, for leading me here. I’m sure I will find plenty of what I’m looking for here.” Then, quickly, she casts one last look over her shoulder, heart hopeful, that she will see Ktulu emerge from over the hills, but no one has followed them. Turning her gaze back, she smiles, dipping her head respectfully.
“If you wouldn’t mind, perhaps you can escort me into town? From there, I should be able to figure everything out on my own, or at least try to. And perhaps when we meet again, I could even lend some fire to your act.” A tip of her antlers and a wink punctuate her statement.
Looking forward, she exhales, trying to breathe out any nerves that had began to settle in. With that, she takes a brave step forward- her first step towards her glorious future.
Her enthusiasm was contagious; he couldn’t help but laugh at the barrage of words, listening with interest as she spoke of magic. That was a thing few enough of them had – he had not given much thought to newcomers (refugees?) carrying foreign kinds with them. The buckskin told her he did perform, to look for him the next time the gypsy caravans rolled into court, but his expression grew more thoughtful when she spoke of healing.
“We have a few healers,” he answered, musing, “though the best of them live in the Dusk Court. I am sure one would be happy to take on an apprentice, if you stay.” It was a good path, though it was one that might set them at odds, down the line. Acton’s work was occasionally distinctly, ah, separate from repairing wounded bodies.
He was not disappointed by her response to the city; he smiled, to himself, and said nothing as she took it in. He remembered well how charmed he’d been when he first saw it, how ensnared by the possibilities, even as he’d been young and a runaway, half-worried he was being tracked.
Denocte had always been a haven for him.
He flicked his tail at her in response to the brush of her wing, shrugging of the thanks. It was what any of the Night Court would have done, despite their sometimes sinister reputations. “I hope you do,” he said, and meant it. “If you don’t, find me again – most anyone here can point you in the right direction. And I’ll introduce you to some horses that can help you find your feet.” Many – maybe most -- horses might shudder to picture such a guileless yearling among the Crows, but to Acton, they were the best family he’d ever had. She might not have the hunger to be one of them, but she seemed to have the wits.
“It’d be my pleasure,” he said with a grin, and down they went into the capital, until the streets took them drifting their different paths. Before they parted, he met her spun-gold gaze a final time. "Good luck, Akeli."
Acton had a feeling he would see her again, but not seeking help. She struck him as an impressively self-sufficient filly, and his smile lingered long after she’d vanished, carried away by the crowd.
