Pavetta was reminded of her wedding day and the veil she had worn. It had been the day that changed everything. Would this too, be a day to change everything in Novus? She hadn’t wanted to make the journey up the steep slopes, would rather linger in the valley, pretending such forces in Novus didn’t exist. But when had she ever backed down from a challenge, even if gods were involved? She had only seen the destruction wrought, the chaos that bred and festered in the presence of such forces.They had brought the fall of worlds, kingdoms, of people.
And Pavetta had been raised to worship such beings.
Suddenly, she was the girl on a mountaintop once more, secluded and silent. Dressed in gauzy silk and hair plaited, head bowed, for you might be whipped if you interrupted worship. The sorceresses dripping jewels and diamonds, vain and beautiful. She remembered the offerings—not myrrh and jasmine, but young girls that never returned. Blood on the altar, wet red pearls in the shape of constellations.
Sacrifice was necessary, they said.
Pavetta climbed the last step, her breathing labored and heavy. Sweat rolled down her sides, hair plastered to her neck and forehead. She stood shakily, catching what little air there was up here, to see that already patches of snow littered the common area. Her hair was not pleated neatly, nor did she wear her fine clothing. She had left everything behind—here she was raw and barren before the gods. They did not deserve jasmine and myrrh, reverence and respect. They did not deserve sacrifices of girls with pearls in their hair.
They deserved death after life, as any mortal.
Hushed murmurs of excitement and anticipation. Pavetta felt alienated, their faith and belief made them people of action and hope. Her faithlessness did nothing in the grand scheme; it was powerless. She wandered among the gathering crowd and mist, not in a chatting mood, but neither did she desire to be alone in this place.
This place harbored nothing but ill intent.
a pearl in pigshit, a diamond on the finger of a rotting corpse,
creature in whom nothing, but nothing, remains of an elven woman ---
Through the silence of his travel could a beating heart be heard by Kauri’s eager ears. Senses were pressed against a certain energy, an almost charming touch his body felt. Violet eyes hadn’t crossed a mountain since the stallion’s youth. Without doubt did it bring back memories to the family he left long, long ago. Aches battered his chest as he grew disappointed in himself. To forget one’s birthplace, the one’s that nurtured—that loved him. He sighed, halting at the foot of this peak.
A little bird told him, well, a great bird told of a particular happening. Hidden within the forest of Delumine had he heard what would be taking place. He watched the curiosity that others had, slowly mixing in his own. So, now the male stood here, thinking what was next. Mind noted the thick forest resting at the base of the mountain, sauntering his way near it. A short moment of exploring within it and it appeared he couldn’t go any further into the midst. Apparently, he was worthless to observe anything. Kauri sighed, a bit hurt. He wandered the place, his want to pry on the matter beginning to get the best of him.
Body shivered at the coldness, a direct reminder of his main objective to follow once he finally decides to leave. It was surreal to be close to the peak, youthful memories flickering in and out of his mind. Any others that crowded here he avoided like the plague. He was becoming concerned, not knowing anything about this world’s gods and what all this could entail. Naturally, he didn’t trust them for that trust still remain with his homeland’s deities.
As he moved through the crowd, sight strayed to a mare that seemed just as bothered as he. Casually, he found himself practically beside her, keeping a respectable distance between. Beneath his mask was a questioning look, Kauri’s head slightly turning to the stranger. “You seem like you’re brooding,” he told. Eyes looked about the area, snorting once done. “What are you harboring from this?”
At the apex of the world there is little left to breathe.
Bexley stands off to the side from the rest of her regime and shivers as she’s bathed in the cold, biting winds of the mountaintop, winds that tug at and pull apart her tight braids, that sting as she pulls them into her lungs in a futile attempt to breathe deeply. The crowd around her - regimes from all courts, too-curious citizens trailing behind like children - talks in whispers and gossips energetically, but Bexley, along with the rest of her group, stands in obstinate silence. Despite all her stubbornness, she trembles slightly. Whether it’s from cold or fear no one else could ever know.
From under thick lashes she watches the scene unfolding, crowds moving in and out, new (and somehow full-grown) trees swaying overhead, a storm brewing in silky gray crowds, and all the while Bexley’s gaze remains icy and vigilant, turning bright-blue circles over the expanse of the Summit. Tensions are running higher and higher, electric waves through the high-altitude air. The chain around her neck contracts in the cold until it’s biting at her soft gold throat. As much as she’d like to whine and complain, it’s not the way she was brought up - more importantly, it’s not what Seraphina’s expecting of her. (Somehow, this has started to matter a lot.) So she doesn’t. She bites her tongue.
Silence is something she’s become almost too good at, especially for a girl known for her loud-mouthed brand of violence.
When the oppressive grayness of the Summit becomes too much and the utter quiet becomes simply cruel, Bexley excuses herself from the Day Court’s circle of representatives and moves off toward the edge of the clearing. Her hoof steps cut moons into the dirt; the scent of sun and sandalwood follows her in a clear, stentorian cloud. Something about loneliness clears the dust from her lungs. All at once she can see again, her bright-blue gaze regaining its clarity, and she sees the girl wandering among the crowd - rose-tinged and dangerous, just Bexley’s type.
Just as she steps forward to follow, someone else bursts in, short and clothed in dark stripes and a white-bleached skull. For a moment Bexley pauses, thinks of turning back, of leaving them alone.
Of course, she doesn't, In the loose gray light her gaze glows like a lantern, and the steps she takes toward the strangers are casual and confident, her presence offered with lazy inconsequentialism. Congrats, on finding this special little keyhole-look into hell. Seems like you’re about as excited as I am. A smile breaks open Bexley’s lips, something wolfish and self-confident.
@pavetta @kauri hope you don't mind me jumping in!! <3
06-10-2018, 07:17 PM - This post was last modified: 06-10-2018, 07:19 PM by Bexley
Pavetta didn’t recognize him at first glance but thought maybe she should. His scent was familiar, family, almost. Delumine, perhaps. She did not know nearly enough of her people and there were newcomers every day; it was easy to lose track of who she had met and who she hadn't. Certainly she would remember a man of his coloring; the bold, feral markings, the wild curl to his cream and ebony hair. Strange, beautiful jewelry of a simple, primitive style. Violet, serious eyes through the skull mask.
She was shocked, suddenly, confronted with a ghost.
She’d seen her father once, from a distance. This man was not he, but she could not help but feel drawn to him, to the familiar markings and the intensity of his eyes. She wondered where he came from and what his story was. Maybe he only smelled of the lush forests of Delumine because he had visited recently, just passing through. Either way she intended to find out. She smiled encouragingly as he joined her—his mannerisms were polite, reserved. He needn’t be so distant; she moved closer, her tail lazily, idly swishing flies from the both of them.
“I am,” she admitted with a sigh, glad of the company in the sea of strangers. All the courts gathered in peace. A truly wondrous thing in itself for the four courts to mingle and converse amiably, but Pavetta could not shake the doubt, the suspicion that lingered in her bones. A permanent chill that made her sweat feel icy on her skin instead of hot, as she should be from the climb. “I worry about what is happening and what it all might mean.” Her smile tightened, forced.
She was about to ask him if he had traveled with the entourage from Delumine but someone else joined them, a golden woman with viper eyes, beautiful swaying hips, and a scar across her face. Pavetta could tell it was recent; the fleshed was still raised and pink but the tissue had hardened. She would not have taken the delicate lady with golden chain around her throat as a warrior but for those sharp eyes and brutal scar. But then, people were often not what they seemed. Pavetta felt neither of her new acquaintances were people to be trifled with. The lady’s voice was swathed in smoke; an easy, careless, brazen tone. Hellhole is right.
“What do you make of it?” Pavetta asked both, searching their faces. “I’m Pavetta, Caretaker of Delumine,” she added as an after thought. “What courts are you both from?"
a pearl in pigshit, a diamond on the finger of a rotting corpse,
creature in whom nothing, but nothing, remains of an elven woman ---
His ears went opposite ways, studying the expression upon the mare’s face. Caught by something within her thoughts, he took it, as quietness settled for the time being. Then, a smile stretched her lips, but only did he manage a small twitch with his. However, in place of that, Kauri chuckled when she admitted to his observation. Silently testing himself, he picked through the gathering for those that looked unsettled or merely excited to know of the circumstances as they conversed amongst each other.
Gaze went soft while hearing the dame’s worry. He knew well now that both he and her stood at the same level. With meetings among the celestial or more so, involving them usually spelled trouble. It was always the case for the ones he lie loyal to back from where he came. It frustrated him to face the realization once more that he no longer had a connection with the higher plane, that he stood here in wonder with the rest—useless.
Mouth parted with the expectation of words, but closed in seeing his company was to speak. Though an outside voice held her tongue, his violets tracing toward the owner. Kauri sounded a dismissive sigh, unamused by the other mare’s statement. A keyhole look, hmm? If only there was a key to find. Hell didn’t sound bad with how done he was with his life. But, he would mope about that later.
He turned back to the first mare, humming at her question about this event. “Something of extreme good or bad. I could only expect the latter,” he speculated off his own personal knowledge. What that bad may be? Possible world destruction, an opposing divine force ready to reap the lands and people, riddance of everyone upon this mortal plane... oh, he had all the negatives. He’d bury these possibilities away, aware that he was starting to dig a little too deep.
Kauri nodded as Pavetta introduced herself. The inquiry of his court showed to rub him the wrong way. Honestly, the stallion hasn’t established himself into his supposed court since his unwilling arrival. And, after this, with him beginning his travel in search of a warmer sector for the winter, he couldn’t sign his name to any court yet. To him, he was of no court. “Kauri is my given. I’m simply a drifter, for now.” There was some doubt with those last two words, giving a sigh.
Eyes looked to the other equine that has yet to introduce herself, quietly wondering the story of the scar upon her face.
Bexley watches the two of them with sharp curiosity, those blue eyes turned to sea-glass in the watery sunlight. They both smell of Dawn - that flowery Delumine sort of perfume - and something inside her twinges, hurts a little, thinking of Acton and the festival and the blackness that came over her then, but it is so deeply hidden that it does not even cross her face, controlled with such a heavy hand that no one else could ever sense it.
Here, of all places, she cannot show her weakness. Not with the gods and all of Novus watching.
The man speaks, and though Bexley’s gaze is hard-to-read and almost too composed as she watches him, lashes fluttering slightly, she nods in simple agreement as he finishes. Expecting the worst. What else is there for them to do when their so-called gods are so frustratingly silent? As long as she has lived here, wandering the deserts, worshipping in violence, Solis has only spoken to her once, and even now, as she feels the magic sparking like live-wire under her skin, she is not entirely sure it is his work. It seems unlike such a proud god to both come and leave in silence, and yet who else would still be watching her, after all she’s done -
All at once she becomes aware of her body temperature rising, a glow like lustre spreading over her skin as the gray sun mists over them. With an infinitesimal scowl she suppresses the glamour: only a few days have passed since she woke up with her powers, and sometimes they flame into existence involuntarily. Nice to meet you both, Bex answers abruptly, realizing they’ve introduced themselves - I’m Bexley, Day Court Regent.
A drifter, Kauri calls himself, and at that a faint, catty smile crosses Bexley’s lips. None of them are drifters, she thinks - can they be when the gods hover so closely? Bex herself wouldn’t have the guts to disregard what’s right above her head, but perhaps Kauri is braver than she, or at least a little more stubborn. I wish they’d just open the doors already, Bexley admits almost wistfully. And let us see whatever’s behind them. The waiting is the worst part.
@pavetta @kauri <3
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06-14-2018, 01:18 PM - This post was last modified: 06-22-2018, 11:24 PM by Bexley
“I think the same,” she replied to Kauri, as he had introduced himself. Gods in Novus. Why would it be good news? How could it be good news, after such a profound silence? She felt agitated, restless—it was difficult to concentrate on the conversation at hand, but it was decent distraction nonetheless.
A drifter. So they were kindred spirits, then, she and Kauri. “We are all drifters at some time or another. Are you relatively new to Novus, then?” He was calm, collected, but, dare she say lonely? And perhaps annoyed by her assumption that he was from fair Delumine. Her expression must have conveyed too much—too easily readable. She would have to fix that. The last thing she wanted to do was offend a possible necomber. “I came through a portal some time ago. A flash of green light—and then nothing—here I am in Novus.” A shortened version of the story, perhaps, but true nonetheless. She had learned others arrived in similar fashion, and then some, as Acton had, by boat. She supposed there was no shortage of possibilities to reach Novus. “Where are you from then, Kauri?” Obviously from a place where gods were volatile and not to be trusted. Pavetta could sympathize.
“You are glowing,” Pavetta said, startled. A radiant glimmer flickered across her golden skin, shining, smoldering, and then it was gone—as suddenly as candlelight smothered by wind. She could not be sure it Bexley, Day Court Regent. So they, Pavetta and Kauri, were in the presence of the right hand of Solterra in all her blazing glory. “Well, good luck, Bexley,” she offered offhandedly, awkwardly. What else was to be said when she could be walking straight to her doom, along with the rest of the regimes? “Hope you don’t get smote by whatever gods may be present."
a pearl in pigshit, a diamond on the finger of a rotting corpse,
creature in whom nothing, but nothing, remains of an elven woman ---
Kauri held a questioning gaze. A regent right before them; why was she not with the rest of those deserving enough to confer with these gods? Eyes wandered away from the chestnut mare, looking toward the gloomy skies.
His ear flicked at Pavetta’s agreement to his speculation about what may be. For what he had saw, god attended meetings were never good. The deities of his home hardly got together to celebrate or speak of the good, and like gold dust did a mortal stand blessed to even hear a whisper from them. Should corruption or wickedness be hinted in the clouds did it seem these divine beings within the world of Novus sung out for the mortals; his world: only for the archangels.
In response to Pavetta’s first question, he gave a small nod. A month since his arrival. Soul still felt fresh here in having yet to be smothered by what is to come for the time he is upon this land. He listened with intrigue as the striped dame told of how she arrived here. “A portal... was it a portal?” he mumbled the question to himself. A portal sounded the most reasonable, it may explain what had happened to him. As darkness had swallowed his heart to bestow the banishment of a vile pleader, he saw the usual wisps and shadows. Once that stranger splashed him with a mysterious liquid, he saw hell, then nothingness. And now, here he was.
“A world gone barren,” he responded in regards to where he was from. Upon his world, deserts went from seclusion to domination. Sentient beings lived in the cluttered mess of congested kingdoms, and the endless line of traveling merchants hoping to at least bargain their goods as he’d watch all this in the distance, before wandering back out into the limitless desert. Now, all this life and vigour he could sense all around him and easily encountering strangers; it was so foreign.
Ears stood when Pavetta mentioned how Bexley glowed. Looking to the regent, her coat appeared normal as violets were too slow to catch the sheen before it was suppressed. He snorted when luck was given out to the golden dame and the hope she doesn’t get struck. Kauri only saw it polite to do the same. “Mm, yes, may the noble spirits be at your side... and don’t be a donkey,” he told. The gods could appreciate a clever jester but certainly not an ass.
Bex laughs a little at Pavetta’s surprised remark on her magic, gaze flickering down to skim her own skin as if looking for a sign of it, though she knows by the coolness in her blood that it’s long since disappeared - Sorry, she says, though it’s not really apologetic. It’s new. The one thing I haven’t learned to control yet. Then she flashes a strangely stilted smile, as if that one phrase revealed more than it was meant to, but the confidence returns easily as her company begins to speak again and she leans her weight onto a back hoof with an easy sort of certainty.
The crowd stirs behind them. Bex resists the urge to turn head-over-shoulder and watch, swiveling an ear instead to catch it more subtly - what passes over them is an unintelligible murmur of fear and suspicion that pricks the hair on her neck to standing up straight. It is perhaps the strangest thing that has happened in all her time in Novus, and that’s absolutely saying something. The scar on her cheek tingles as she thinks of it. Crackles like electricity through water, spreading something bright under the surface of her skin.
I’ll try my best, she answers with contained amusement, turning back to face the two of them. But no promises. If they start anything, I might have to finish it… The tone is half joking, half defeated. Her gaze stills on Kauri watchfully. Pavetta, somehow, seems more familiar than he does - maybe it’s the stubborn expression on her face or the way she holds herself almost like a soldier, but Bexley sees herself mirrored in the rose-girl, her strength, her feminine brand of brutality, and it is for this reason she suspects Pavetta less.
More likely than not, trusting her is stupid. But Bexley has always been a woman of intuition, and she finds it easy to offer a smile, to relax a little as the sun watches over them.
