[AW] meet me in the morning sun

[Rhea]

 Her face was scrunched in concentration, using her telekinesis to drive the knife’s tip into the tree she was currently working on. It was partially covered in the symbols unique to the Ilati, each one done with as much precision as could be afforded her from the ground. She closed one eye, leaning her head in the direction that she desired (as if that would help her really). She had been at this most of the morning, though she had barely finished the first one she had been working on the day before. She took great pride in the carving work that she did, and did not see the harm in making sure that everything was perfect.
 
She recalled the first time she’d been taught to carve, her best friend teasing her for the way one of her symbols looked. He’d said it looked like a fat electric catfish when it had been something else entirely. She huffed a chuckle at the memory, the knife’s point pulling back from the bark as she admired her work. Her dark body was sheened in a light sweat, the sunlight dappling across her back as it made an effort to break through the trees above.
 
The moss made a gentle rustle as a rare summer breeze blew through, taking with it a few wisps of her dark hair that she had to tuck back into place.  It was a particularly warm summer’s day, even the swamp water elevated in temperature a few degrees from its normal. Rhea brought the knife down, carefully, from its height and sheathed it before replacing it in her bag. She rummaged through it, the clinking of bottles mixing with the rustling of her dried herbs that she kept with her. They were mostly good for things like headaches and the ilk, but she liked to keep some things on hand with her when she was traversing the swamp.
 
She found the small pot of white paint that she had been looking for and began to carefully trace the correct symbols with the corresponding colors. A similar vial of blood was waiting to be added next, before she added a blessing to it with herbal smokes. The blessing was not a required step, but she found more joy in it that way.

[Israfel]

Israfel

Funny for someone who hated the swamps to be spending so much time in them.

Solaris fluttered ahead of her sulking charge, her massive golden frame gliding elegantly above the stagnant waters and the twisted, gnarled trees. The Phoenix had little care for Israfel’s opinion of this place; a mystical beast as she was, Solaris understood the ancient prowess and history of a seemingly lackluster location. There was something alive within this land, something ancient and surreal, nestled within every bubbling breath of swamp water or passing breeze that caressed the peat moss and muck. A magic, hidden away and forgotten was tucked beneath the very soil, within the trees, on the very sigh and groan of the world around them. Solaris could only assume that it was awakening, this long forgotten world, and the magic of this place whispered a single word within the Phoenix’s mind.

Ilati.

That word again.

Florentine had said it surreptitiously at the meeting, whispered and shaped like a warning, like prayer, the meeting of which had been hosted in this very place only recently. Solaris remembered, and she knew that Israfel did, as well. It was hard not to. That meeting had been a turning point within Terrastella, and surely they would feel the weight of its damnation for weeks, if not months, to come.

Tempers had flared like the very flames that Solaris could summon. Biting words had been exchanged, reasoning ignored. The Phoenix did not know where she stood in regards to the drama, but she knew very well the damage that it had wrought down upon her godly charge. Israfel had not quite been the same since the meeting, since the departure of Jude, who, presumably, had left them to follow the trail of Isorath.

”How many more of our own must we lose to this?” Israfel had begged her in the safety and seclusion of her own chambers within the Dusk citadel, her normally stalwart and proud charge nearly rendered to tears upon the conclusion of the meeting. ”We’re tearing each other down and ripping each other apart.” Solaris had wanted to curse them, but she was mute to the ears of the Court.

’Let them squabble,’ the Phoenix had stated, violet eyes peering keenly, knowingly, at her charge, ’Do your duty. Follow your path. Let them make their own.’ It was all easier said than done.

“You’re quiet,” Israfel’s voice carried over the silence of the swamp, and Solaris glanced over her gilded wings to realize that the demi-Goddess had caught up to her, vermilion depths curious and concerned, “That’s unlike you, Solaris.” The meeting had done its damage, yes, but Israfel was trying to overcome it. Loss was painful, no matter what form, and she would always struggle with it… But at least she had Solaris at her side. The ivory and gold Phoenix gave a harrumph, feathered breast heaving. The mighty beast turned and glided about a tree etched with peculiar carvings before twisting in the air and returning to her charge, wings flapping as she took purchase upon Israfel’s croup.

’Please. I’m merely remembering… The Ilati. Their magic still coats these waters and breathes among the trees. I can feel it.’ The Warden of Terrastella frowned, narrowing her gaze at her companion, before letting her eyes wander to explore the scenery around them.

It was true. Israfel cared little for the Tinea Swamp. It stank, the humidity was cloying and cumbersome on the best of days, and the energy of the place was just odd. Perhaps that was why she had never truly been comfortable here. “I know little of them. To be honest, I knew nothing of them until Florentine mentioned them in the meeting. They’re still rather a mystery to me, but…” The Sun Daughter trailed off, vermilion eyes growing alert as a shadow seemed to move up ahead, across a pool of stagnant water and moss. A ghost? No, no. It was too solid, to real. A creature, black as night and scaled like a Kirin, was busy carving etchings into a tree, seemingly paying her no mind. The scaled one replaced their knife before pulling out a small pot, beginning to paint the carvings with white ink, and Israfel found herself entranced. What in the world…?

“… What are you doing?” Okay, so, it might not have been Israfel’s finest moment, calling out loudly across the swamp water. Her voice echoed, head tilting curiously, but the Warden held her ground as she waited for the mysterious stranger to acknowledge her. Upon her back, Solaris’ piercing violet eyes regarded the ebony stranger with an expression mixed of caution and awe. Again, the whispers sang to the mystic bird, a chorus that praised only one word;

Ilati.

x - x

@Rhea - I could not resist. :|

[Rhea]

R H E A

The kirin kept her eyes on her task, though they were tempted away by the sound of swamp sparrows and insects. Ilati, though she may have been, she held a special respect for the world around her -- deciding to balance her acts of healing in a more harmonious nature rather than to try to bend it all to her will. She believed in the gentler ways, though that made her weak in the eyes of many, ways that were becoming a thing of the past as darkness seemed to envelop the Ilati. She did not believe that once they had been the monsters they had been made out to be, or the monsters that some were becoming. 

Her tail flicked against her hind legs, and she stretched just a little higher – her neck fully extended as she concentrated on her work. Her dark tresses brushed against the patterning of scales, shiny things with very few young scales. Her scales had been found to possess interesting qualities that made them excellent ingredients in a variety of potions and medicines. Her brush was a little unsteady, despite the grooved layout being made beforehand – but she supposed it added to the mystery of it all.


She grinned at the thought, wondering just how many stories swirled around their existence. Perhaps as many as she had heard of the outsiders? “… What are you doing?”

A loud voice startled her thoughts, the grip she had on her small pot of paint loosening just enough so that it fell to the ground, it’s rough landing among the roots causing it to spill.


The mare’s head whipped in the direction that the sound had come, her teal eyes glittering with fear that quickly morphed into annoyance. A woman in white stood across the way, her hair and a pair of wings steeped in gold with a curious looking bird perched upon her. Her ears fell back against her head as she glanced down at the mess that had been made, white paint splattered along the twisting roots of the swamp tree and also upon her forelegs, giving her a pair of white socks that she hadn’t been born with.


Her gaze returned to the stranger who stood in the distance, whom she turned her back on to begin to pack up her things. The pot of white paint had not broken, merely spilled but she would have to return to the village before she could finish this job. Which would mean another day at least, once she cleared this mess. Ignoring the stranger might not have been the best of tactics, but she knew that if she had opened her mouth just then that something ugly would have come out.


When her things were stuffed back into the satchel, and she had hoisted it over her head to sling it around her neck – she made a careful path down, jumping from the tall roots of the tree onto the marshy earth below, her cloven hooves sinking slightly into the murk. She typically work a cloak of moss, in lieu of the animal pelt her people preferred—but the stranger had already seen her, there was no point in hiding herself further. Her stride was slow and purposeful, towards the stranger rather than away from her and her pet. Strands of hair curled around her horns, the spirals brushing her shoulders ever so slightly. Her gait was smooth despite the uneven ground, and she stepped willingly into the marshy waters without hesitation.


“Thank you…for that.” She said with a quip of attitude. She was not sure if the water would wash away all the paint that had spilled on her. “But as to what I was doing…” She said slowly, looking over the other female with interest. She had had few interactions with others who were not one of the Ilati. “Isn’t it a little obvious?” She asked, a sly smile breaking out upon her features. “Or are you one of the foolish ones who wander into places that they don’t know who they belong to?”


Rhea turned her head, indicating the swamp around them. “You outsiders have become more and more bold, to wander these waters. Even the flesh-eater doesn’t seem to be enough to scare you away anymore.” Her voice had taken a gentler tone, not so condescending as it had begun. She had no experience, nor interest in causing too much of a stir. “I’ll have to come back to finish that one later.” She gestured to the tree she had been working on. She felt a tad wary, hard not to when your head had been filled with the stories of these people who had taken her own as their personal healers and slaves. But she was sure that in this environment, she could hold an edge strong enough to allow her to escape. "Who are you?"

She glanced at the bird, the purple eyes unlike anything she had ever seen on a swamp bird. Somehow, she felt the threat of such a creature, although she assumed it was just the size of it that was so intimidating.

@Israfel