Even though he believed the beauty of the Night Court's realms was and would remain unparalleled, Camdis Lohir wasn't daft enough to refuse recognition of beauty elsewhere in the continent. As the relic's magic tugged him along the realms of Delumine, the stallion found that his usually grouchy expression and cranky disposition were softening in the face of Illuster Meadow's sea of blossoms. If he weren't so fearful that he would be enveloped by the field and become the unwitting victim of a hoof to the face and if the magic wrapped round his heart weren't so insistent that he keep going, keep going, keep going! the horned stag would have paused for a nap.
Or a coma, he thought wryly as the exhaustion that had become his near constant companion nipped at his hocks.
Truly, he was tired, and he silently implored the relic magic to free him, if only for an hour's rest.
At last, his hooves near dragging and his legs close to giving out, Camdis felt the pull in his chest soften and he nearly moaned in relief. Not bothering with grace or decorum, the stallion slowed to a stop and flopped his muscled body to the soft earth in a single motion. A relieved sigh pushed from his belly as the bay nestled into the ground, his tired bones cushioned by the layer of grass and flowers that he had squished beneath his bulk.
"Sorry about smashing your flowers, Dawn Court," he mumbled as his silvery eyes slid closed, relishing in the warmth of the afternoon sun and the hypnotizing pleasure of approaching sleep.
He never would have approached had the stallion not been sleeping, had the meadow not been thick with flowers and the slow drunken drone of bees - had he been paying attention at all.
But Charlemagne’s heart was too full to take care; his blood was bounding, for though he did not yet know this was his court, something in him knew he was close at last. The sunlight was full and golden, the clouds drifted lazily by, and the unicorn was too joyful to be cautious. Ergo as he came, fairly skipping through the flowers that nodded drowsy heads as he passed by, he very nearly tripped on one of the huge curled horns.
He leapt just in time with a startled “Oh!,” clearing the figure, and whirled to stare, aghast, at the huge stranger in the grass. His heart seemed to be intent on doubling its previous rhythm; had the stallion not blinked sleepy eyes open, Charlemagne might very well have turned and fled. It was clear by their trembling that his skinny legs still hoped to run, but the liver chestnut stood his ground, chewing his lip anxiously.
Surely a bad thing could not happen to him in what was clearly a good place. His kingdom and its bloodlust were weeks behind him. Here, there could be nothing to fear.
But his eyes still lighted, skittish as a butterfly, on the horns, the hooves, the coloring like blood. A new thought struck him: that Novus was not a haven of teachers and searchers, after all, but a place very like the one he’d left. Flicking his ears back and forward again, he extended his neck, huffing a breath toward the much larger male. His own horn gleamed like a scythe, but Charlemagne was long past the point of thinking of it as a weapon.
“Do you live here?” he asked at last, tensed and ready to spring away.
So close, he had come so close to that wonderful sleep that he had sought when a surprised Oh! wrenched silvery eyes open to stare blearily at the trembling figure before him. Brows raising inquisitively as he blinked to clear his vision, Camdis Lohir took in the dainty unicorn that huffed in his direction. If he had not been drunk on exhaustion, if sleep hadn't only been a few breaths away, the stallion would have taken the huff as an offense, would have balked at the audacity of the little twit and attempted to run him out of the meadows.
But luckily for Little Twit, Camdis didn't tend to get grumpy when he was tired, no, he tended to get a wee bit loopy in the face of his own exhaustion.
Shaking his head to clear it of sleep's heavy fingers, its hands attempting to drag him back down into its comforting embrace, the horned stallion gave a lazy grin to the unicorn before letting languid words fall from a clumsy tongue, "I sure don't," came his simple reply, voice easily heard over the soft spring breeze winding through the flowers. Taking a moment, Camdis considered the fearful way that the stranger looked at him, noting the trim frame and the lack of muscle. The boy seemed to have a penchant for gold, just as the bloodied bay had a penchant for scarlet - well, not that he wanted it. Eyes straying to the wide gaze of his counterpart, the stag wondered if he should do something to comfort the boy, to calm him in what was clearly a stressful situation, but he couldn't quite be bothered to.
When the horned stranger made no move to stand, Charlemagne let his muscles ease. When he grinned and spoke like a slow, lazy river, the unicorn lifted his head and whisked his tail, satisfied that there would be no punishment for the near-stumble. At home, it would have let to a verbal lashing or worse. But you’re not home. Well, now he felt a little silly, but his buoyant mood began to return nonetheless.
Knowing the stranger didn’t live here made his bungled first impression sting a little less. Even if he didn’t know where here was, or if he himself would be staying, Charlemagne was relieved to think the other male would eventually be moving on.
“I’ve only just arrived,” he answered primly, which was the best way to avoid the question that he could think of. He’d yet to meet anyone who could tell him what this place was, and whether he belonged at all. Being caught out in a lie would be an inauspicious start indeed, worse, even, then tripping over a dozing stallion.
His heart had returned to its usual rhythm by now, and curiosity began to overtake caution. A meadowlark breezed by, in full-throated song, and Charlemagne cocked his head and settled his green-eyed gaze on the stranger’s. “What brings you to this meadow, then?” The unicorn could not quite bring himself to ask where is here, anyway?
Despite his lack of concern for the lad's discomfort, it was a welcome change to watch the young unicorn relax. While it may very well have been a general paternal instinct, Camdis ignored that thought and decided that his relief at the boy's relaxation was due only to his annoyance at such a frantic energy in his vicinity. Nodding his horned head, Camdis Lohir watched as the stranger transformed before him, casting off the mantle of nervous youth and assuming a rather bubbly persona.
He was briefly reminded of Pretty Bexley, yet the young thing before him was not a prettily clothed viper, all sparkles and venom poised for the strike. No, he seemed genuine, if not a little intimidated and flighty. Adjusting his muscled body upon the earth so that he could peer up at the gold-clad stallion with more ease, the Exile King felt his ears perk forward to catch the lullaby of the stallion's words.
"Ah, a newer newcomer than I, then," His voice was gruff from disuse, but not unkind as he gave yet another nod, aching to flick his tail just to punctuate his words. "There's a magic here, boy," the older stallion motioned with his great head toward his chest, silvery eyes taking on a sharper quality as he watched the stranger for a reaction - watched to see if he felt it, too. "It's like a thread about my heart, tugging me here and there, in search of something called a Relic."
A roll of his shoulders akin to a shrug, though prone as he was, it could have just looked like a heaving sigh, "I'm from the Night Court, actually, though I've already trekked through that realm with the magic yanking me ever onward." The scarlet splashed bay grimaced as he remembered his exhaustion, remembered how the tug of the magic seemed to have no end in sight and how much more exhaustion and forfeited naps he may fall victim to before his search was through.
"Tell me, boy. You smell enough of the Dawn Court, why do you seem like you're ready to jump out of your own skin in your own home?"
A smile, quick and light as a swallow, dimples Charlemagne’s cheek at the stranger’s words. It was a relief to know that somebody so imposing-looking, so languidly confident even just woken from a nap, was also new here. Despite his brief fear - perhaps in part because of it, and the way it soon proved needless - the unicorn decided that he liked this stranger.
The next words he spoke only reaffirmed the decision.
“Magic?” He watched the stallion’s muzzle curl toward his chest, then flicked his gaze up to meet the stranger’s silver one. As he spoke about searching for the relic Charlemagne searched himself, holding in a breath and waiting to see what he might feel. There had been too much worry, too much excitement, too much road-weariness and uncertainty and hope in his journey here and it made for a terrible inner din. Now, though, as he stilled himself - was that something? A tug?
He is afraid it isn’t; he wants it very much to be. And so he is glad when the big stallion speaks again, because it saves him from admitting he might not feel a thing.
At the mention of the Night Court his ears prick with renewed interest. The scholar from his home had few enough stories about the Dawn Court; he knew next to nothing about the others. He’d opened his mouth, perhaps to say so, when the bay spoke again. Anything he’d been about to say fell away with the sudden knowledge of where he was.
“This is the Dawn Court?” He scanned the meadow, golden horn glinting in the sunlight, but all he saw were wildflowers and drifting butterflies, a spring-green treeline and the haze of hills in the distance. Somewhere, the stories went, was a grand building, spires rising to the sky, a monument to knowledge — oh, he was here, he was here, and it was beginning.
“Then I am home. Forgive me - I’ve come a long way, and not been so long alone before. I am Charlemagne, and came to be a scholar - who are you?” He smiled again, and tried to keep eagerness from making him impatient. But he was still little more than a boy, and he wants so badly to begin (never mind not knowing what). “Do you think this Relic is here? Perhaps I can help look.”
The boy before him was just that, a boy; young and hopeful and full of a vibrant potential that emanated from his very core.
Were his daughter and son similar to this lad? Golden in their youth and glowing in their endless possibilities? Did they have dimples? Smiles like the rising sun? Shimmering eyes that made one recall the heavens and the seas in tandem?
He could only hope.
Camdis noted the way the boy's attention piqued as he mentioned magic, the Night Court, the Dawn Court, anything new and able to be learned, the lad seemed to thirst for. The stallion nodded his great, horn-laden skull in almost paternal approval of the young stag's scholarly tendencies. Despite the scarlet splashed bay's refusal to enter the capitol house of another court, he wondered at what sort of libraries those great palaces and fortresses housed; were they greater than the Night Court's? Greater even than the grand multi-level Temple of Mind nestled in the Mistward foothills? He huffed at the possibility, a small sense of jealousy rising within his breast; he would remedy that soon enough. The Night Court and her people would rise to the forefront of Novus, a great and powerful nation that housed the best of what the earth could offer, her gates spread in an open-armed welcome and her people beholden to no one and nothing but their own freedoms.
More words from the lad that stood before him pulled the muscled brute from his reverie, and Camdis had to admit, he didn't mind the boy's company - he rather enjoyed it, actually. Novus was making him soft.
Blinking lazily, the Exile King nodded along with the boy, a small smile beginning to blossom over his face, softening his otherwise severe features into something almost pleasant as he formed a reply, "Well met, young Charlemagne. You have a good name, boy, a strong one that sticks to the mind - it could stick to the tomes of history as well, if you decide to wield yourself in such a way. I'm sure the Dawn Court will find you a valuable scholar." With a groan, the bay heaved himself into a standing position, ignoring the protests of his muscles and shaking out his lengthy mane with a satisfied hum. Indeed, the gold and bronze dipped child before him reminded Camdis of his own children, and that fact alone made it easy to adore the unicorn.
"I have two names; Camdis Lohir, but what you call me is up to you," Straightening, the stallion took a deep breath, relishing in the fresh perfume of the flowers around them, though he winced a bit at the bruises that dotted his ribs and hips from a rather unfortunate misstep a few days before, "I came here to be a healer, if you can believe it. Mother always told me I'd end up better as a Warrior King, but the notion never appealed to me, even when I sat the throne," He rolled his shoulders in a semblance of a shrug, distantly wondering why he was telling this boy so much, why he was being so honest with one so new to his life, "In truth, the relic may be here, but I wouldn't know where to start. We could comb the field for weeks and still find nothing, so covered is the earth in these flowers..."
He trailed off, gaze swinging to and fro as he considered their surroundings, briefly wishing for wings before shoving the thought away as it brought to mind memories of the amethyst songbird he accosted upon the Terminus.
"What do you propose, little Scholar?"
@Charlemagne awwwh Cam is trying to be dad-like im crying
If Charlemagne knew the paternal feelings that flitted through Camdis’ thoughts, real as the pull toward the relic, he would have been astonished. His own father had viewed him with a persistent mixture of disappointment and exasperation, barely kept in check by his mother’s rather more blind love. The unicorn didn’t fault them for it; they weren’t the outlier, he was. They’d only wanted somebody who would fit his people’s society.
Perhaps, once they recovered from the initial shame of having their heir vanish, they would be as glad as he was that he’d left.
At any rate, he is unused to praise, even for something he has as little to do with as his own name. He flushed beneath the dark stallion’s words, willing them to drown out his own feelings regarding it (weighty hopes, a title too heavy for him to ever bear). In that moment, it seemed like he could live up to his moniker. Someday.
All he could manage in response was a soft “Thank you,” but his shining eyes spoke more eloquently of what the words meant to him.
The chestnut stepped back to give more room to the stallion as he clambered to his feet, watching with a kind of shy awe as he unfurled to his full height and breadth, his mane a waterfall of thick hair, his horns a graceful and mighty arch. Camdis Lohir, a name that sounded to him as elegant and powerful as those horns.
He’s even more reverential as the stallion continues speaking, his eyes widening and ears swinging forward at the words. So casually he mentioned being king! And to think of such a man, coming here to be a healer - it made Charlemagne feel less foolish for his own decision.
It also made him feel terribly unqualified, when the once-king turned a piercing gaze on him and asked what he thought. Somehow he managed not to gape or to stammer, and remembered his upbringing enough to draw himself up and dip his head with a gracefulness most rare for him. “I am glad to have met you, Camdis Lohir,” he said, and as he lifted his head again he hoped that the stallion had already forgotten their ‘meeting’ began with Charlemagne nearly falling on top of him.
There were a thousand questions he wanted to ask, a hundred stories to beg from the male, but Camdis had asked for his own thoughts.
“Well…” he trailed off, flicking an ear and watching the wildflowers bob and nod their heads. “Maybe we should split up? We’ll cover more ground that way, anyhow.” He was reluctant to suggest they separate so soon, but there was also the fear that if Camdis Lohir spent another ten minutes with him, he would rescind his compliments. No; better not to hinder the stallion. Never mind that he didn’t know anything about the relic beyond its existence; surely he would know it once he saw it. That was always how adventures worked. “Where can I find you again?”
@Camdis is a hero! I’m glad Charles ran into him. I’d love to thread again (and soon!) but thought we could wrap up for the maze/to avoid falling too far behind timeline?
The stallion huffed a laugh at the lad's glimmering eyes and the tiny thank you that belied his gratitude. Truly the boy was starting to grow on the horned stallion, gangly legs and all. Breathing in carefully, Camdis Lohir committed the younger male's scent to memory, determined to single this one out, to attempt some sort of nurturing. The bloodied bay had not forgotten the absolute fear that had played across the youth's face when he had recovered from almost tripping over Camdis' prone form, and he was sure that such terror was not borne of casual child's play. No, that sort of horror was the product of physical brutality and disdain; something that the thick stag had an extensive history with.
It was a surprise to find that empathy had stirred so close to the surface of the caretaker's stony facade, how it had thawed a bit of his bitter heart beneath the need to protect and provide. Usually, the feelings of loathing and resentment were strong enough to shove the flickers of compassion back, to snuff out the tiny flames that he refused to allow to take root. Yet, there was something about the inherent vulnerability, the absolute candidness that was so clear, so tangible, that it nearly rolled off of Charlemagne in waves, that had created such a rend in the Exile King's unbreakable armor of indifference.
Camdis was still unsure whether to dub the occurrence a miracle or an annoyance.
Yet, that grin only grew in warmth as the petal soft lad before him spoke, his words wrapping their way about Camdis' heart and ringing merrily within his memory. He had never heard those words directed at himself, had never known what it was to be appreciated for nothing more than a few exchanged words within a field of poppies. Maybe he would never know it again, but the stallion had found that he had a knack for living in the moment and appreciating what he could within the past.
When he wasn't busy drowning in self-imposed apathy and self pity, that is.
With a nod and a step to his right, away from the boy and all of the conflicting emotions and principles that his presence dredged forth, Camdis considered where his travels had already led him. Slowly, the shape of a mirrored lake of stars formed within his mind's eye and he grinned, "In Denocte, in my home, there is a lake. It is called The Vitreus and it is something out of the heavens. I will find you there and we can talk more of what you wish to be, my boy."
Turning away fully and beginning the arduous task of searching for the Relic once more, Camdis Lohir tossed one more strong of words over his shoulders before sinking into the depths of his quest, "You will always find a welcome in the Night Court."
@Charlemagne aaaaaahhhh I love the bb I can't wait to thread again and see where it takes them~
