Sand whirled around Lo's gigantic wings as he beat them against the hot earth, landing at last on Solterran ground. He hadn't meant to make such a grand entrance, but at his size and weight it was hard not to upon descent, no matter the location. Had it been cooler Lothaire would have most certainly embarked the journey on foot, as he most commonly did, for he was not an impatient man - in fact, patience was one of his most notable attributes. But he was certainly no fool: this weather was dangerously hot for someone with skin as thin as his own, and crossing such arid terrain would have been reckless. Lothaire did not consider himself to be reckless. So he had taken to the sky, a rare occurrence. It wasn't that he did not like flying - oh, he did - no, it was just too heady and utopian for his own good. Too long in the air and he might never come back down.
With a shake of his giant appendages, Lothaire exhaled deeply; taking in his new surroundings with that black bottomless gaze. It was quiet here, more so than he had expected - hot too, more so than he had expected also. But, then, he should have known better than to have expectations in the first place. Lo licked his lips, drinking in at last the sight of Day Court's great fortress. He stood at a comfortable distance: close enough that those within could see him, without assuming the worst. His first impressions were gathered slowly (a chemist in his lab), examining everything from the endless golden sand to the looming walls nearby. Dry, strong, unyielding. Knowing he had already ventured far further into Solterra than was probably welcome, Lo decided not to approach the castle but instead to await invitation - or refusal, whichever it may be. He blinked; once, twice, thrice. Silent and attentive as ever.
OOC: @avdotya swear we agreed to set up a thread yonks ago but i forgot haha, here is lo doing his first bit of emissary bizniz (@maxence and/or @Seraphina also welcome to join!! i want him to familiarise himself with the regime<3)
AVDOTYA
they have achieved nothing
altered nothing
and will die for n o t h i n g
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
The shifting of the winds brought many a smell to Avdotya's flared nostrils. They were familiar - comforting, almost - but there was something amiss as she breached the crest of the dune that rolled underfoot... something foreign to the woman's senses that brought a foul curl to her lips. She was in no mood for the prim and proper ways of Court politicians, yet the uninvited odour of alpine air that danced in the breeze left her to assume Reichenbach had sent someone poke their nose in to see if anyone was home. By the looks of the lone stallion waiting outside the capitol's doorstep, he may have been out of luck. That was, of course, until the ever-prickly regent began to shuffle down the face of the sand dune.
She inspected him thoroughly in her approach, noting the massive pair of leathery wings and reptilian appearance he possessed. Surely this was the Night Court's new emissary, a man whose name escaped her mind already muddied by the array of others cropping up across Novus. "If you are waiting for a formal invitation you will be waiting here until you are but bones in the sand." Avdotya said while she approached from behind him. Her footfalls were silent as the dead in the hot sand, but her sharp voice let her presence be known to the ophidian stallion. She stopped shortly after, still behind him, and awaited his gaze.
Avdotya did not doubt for one moment that he was here on business, but it was the purpose of such business that held the mare's quiet suspicion. With the sovereigns now claiming their thrones, many were sure to begin sizing one another up; Maxence had done just that in their recent visit to the mutt queen's keep. "What is it you seek?" She asked bluntly, standing square and holding the usual flame in her eye. Perhaps if she was lucky, he would have a little spirit in him she was feeling particularly feisty today.
Time seemed to tick by slower here. The sun simmered closer to the earth, as though it favoured the desert inhabitants - which was not an altogether inaccurate line of thought; he was standing in the heartland of Solis after all. Lothaire had come to Novus with an open mind, because he had never been taught otherwise; though, in fact he had never truly been taught much at all. Madeline, his mother, had often entombed him in her antipathy; his father absent entirely - which left only his grandfather to reveal the secrets of this wild and volatile life. Two things, and two things alone, Lothaire's grandfather had tried to instil within that dark-eyed boy: work hard, and don't fucking die. Lo did not respect many people in life, but his grandfather was a figure who had always seemed to talk sense. A man whose entire life had been a singular string of unfortunate events - still living, still striving.
He was, however, not so lost in thought that he failed to detect the minute change in the surrounding atmosphere. The air was suffocatingly hot and stagnant, but that did not stop it from becoming steadily saturated with the scent of a stranger nearby. True, Lo could not hear the female, but he was quite aware of her presence by the time she announced herself with a voice seemingly made of gravel. The reptilian man did not turn his head to watch her pass, only laying his deadened gaze upon her frame as she curved around into his line of sight. She was small, but compact, and he did not for a second presume this woman to be handicapped by the difference between them in height. Her skin was dark, streaked by paler markings and her eyes burned like the blood diamonds he had seen in the east. Lothaire took her to be formidable at first sight, noting her scars and the trophies laden across her back. No doubt in his mind that this was the warrior-queen regent, Avdotya.
With a slow breath he took a moment to study her, eyes as dark and nebulous as the night from whence he came. He had time; all he had was time. And then - "Formal, or otherwise, here we are." His voice was an oxymoron unto itself: uncomfortably deep and yet strangely thin, like the tones of a serpent. The feisty woman's question reverberated off his skin, bouncing against his calmly unassuming ambience. "You."
AVDOTYA
they have achieved nothing
altered nothing
and will die for n o t h i n g
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Her arrival bore only the slightest of reactions from the patchwork stallion. It elicited a look of disapproval almost immediately from Avdotya, her eyes having narrowed upon hearing his simple words. How dull, whispered her mind to her ear, and she felt twitch of abhorrence pull at her cracked lip. "Yes, she agreed, "here we are." There was a particular touch of lethargy suddenly laced in the sound her voice, one that was indicative of her blossoming opinion of him. The only life this conversation seemed to have was the acknowledgment that it was none other than her who he had sought in his journey to Solterra.
She cocked a hind hoof as he shared his purpose with her. "Delightful." The regent stated flatly. Regardless of the blandness she had witnessed thus far, Avdotya assumed she was not seeing him in his entirety. There had to be more to man such as he, especially if he was appointed a position of enough importance to be traveling to the Day Court seeking one of the regime. Insipid as he was, he was bound to harbour intellect; maybe this was his game. There were many minds to consider in the world of politics, and she would be unwise to dismiss him... as tempting as the thought was.
The desert mare stepped out of his path to Solterra's fortress and motioned towards it. "Let us walk, then." She awaited his first step, peeling off with him once he did so - given that he would do so.
The walk was short and soon enough their hooves clattered against the great steps that led into winding, stone halls. Knowing so little of this reptilian stallion, Avdotya harboured minimal (if any) trust in him, and she made that fact quite clear in the deliberate adjustment of her spear in its holder. She would not hesitate to puncture a hole in his pretty white throat. "Your name?" She finally asked in the thick of their silence, casting him a sidelong glance as she did. For a moment, she wondered if he even had one.
His lie had come easily, thoughtless and natural, almost as though it were perhaps instead the whole truth of the matter. You, was a broad term in his mind. For the emissary had come seeking nobody in particular, only a member of the higher ranks in order to gauge a feel for what may come. Lo knew it was his job now to mediate, in kind, between the differing courts (oh, the irony for such a recluse) and what mediator would he be if he had not familiarised himself with Dawn, Day and Dusk. So, 'you' had been both a truth and a lie. Either way the regent was brazenly unimpressed; her hot eyes searing into his hide. Lothaire was unfazed, he had not come here to win affection or administer light entertainment; if he was boring her, it was a problem belonging to Avdotya and Avdotya alone. Lothaire was not flamboyant, nor silvertongued, and he did not flare at the slightest provocation; he wondered if she had expected something else, considering Night Court's famed ostentatious nature. The serpent simply continues to watch her, studying the fluctuations in her expression and the glittering light in her eyes. Her cologne bled strength and sweat, her stance exuded confidence. This was a women to watch, indeed.
They begin to walk, and he, of course, notes the handling of her spear pointed toward his throat. Lothaire knew if in the almost impossible chance he were to do anything to trigger the use of such spear, he would certainly deserve it. He drinks in the sight of the great Solterran fortress, old as the sand beneath their hooves. A magnificent place indeed. "Lothaire." He does not need to ask for her calling; he has heard, he has known. A more polite man might have done so anyway, but he doubts Avdotya cared much for niceties. As they glide into one of the larger stone halls, Lo rumbles, "time has not diminished such splendor," black eyes cast toward the warrior in the first flickerings of something other than nothing, "were you born within these walls, Avdotya?"
AVDOTYA
they have achieved nothing
altered nothing
and will die for n o t h i n g
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Her mind explored the range of possibilities for his purpose in the desert; arriving uninvited and without warning did not leave the mare thinking he was sent to extend an olive branch. The relationship between Night and Day already brandished subtle tension and it was bound to grow harsher as the sovereigns settled into their lavish thrones. Regardless of the reason, though, this was an opportunity to familiarize herself with those Reichenbach sought council from and that in itself was enough reason to continue walking with him.
While he admired the architecture, Avdotya's distaste for it all stayed hidden behind an expressionless facade. Had things been different in her past, she could have learned to appreciate it herself; however, the audacity of a boy-king and the things he did under the cover of these walls left the mare unmoved by its grandeur. She simply nodded in feigned agreement with Lothaire, remaining wordless until he had asked of her heritage. "No," she answered simply, "I was born to a nomadic group of desert dwellers. They've since vanished from existence." The regent did not delve any further, did not share the details of their slaughter. The only man who knew of her past was the gunmetal stallion, Velorca, and she intended for it to remain that way.
Her gaze found itself focused on Lothaire, now. "And you? Were you born to the plush life of a politician or did you find your way to it as I have?" She queried with an artful smile, perhaps the first flash of brightness their meeting had produced. By the look of him, Avdotya presumed that his story was not so simple- but perhaps, not unlike her, he had secrets of his own.
The emissary was not accustomed to such heat, even under the looming shade of the court he could feel Solis' scald and with a slow movement he turned his head toward the sky which streamed through wide windows; wondering, inquisitive. Did the God of solar and diurnality resent his presence here in the halls of his great palace? His amorphous gaze did not burn nor incinerate like Avdotya's, instead it hummed, lightless and cogent - rolling back to the woman's frame as she emptied syllables into the air. Nomadic tribes, ancient residents of the Mors. If Lothaire had possessed ordinary ears they might have twitched forward in cool interest, instead he can only lift his thickset skull, dark eyelashes grazing against the highset bone of his cheek. Her answer is brief, almost concealed - not that he had expected anything else from this warrior queen. She did not seem the type to unearth all the terrible ways her people had been decimated to a stranger, a stranger of Denocte no less. That did not curtail his morbid curiosity, mind.
He neglects to question her further, allowing instead for the regent to loose a query of her own. Avdotya pairs it with a smile that Lo observes impassively, knowing better than to take it for warmth. "I could never have imagined I would find myself in the position I determine today. Denocte is almost as foreign to me as it is to you." The serpentine man remembers the darkness, and the cold, he remembers his mother's bitterness until it was perhaps all that he could remember. Alone and perpetual he had existed - a child without name or design. "Such is life." Lothaire walks forward a pace, casting a sweeping iron stare around the Solterran hall before turning back to Avdotya so that his stare bores now into her. For a moment he is silent, wearing the ambiguity across his broad shoulders. When his speaks this time it is quieter, thicker. "Do you not find it suffocating here? In these hot stone walls?" Solterra's castle was, to Lothaire, just that. Though fiercely grand he could not shake the tightness around his throat, longing once more for the soft embrace of shadow and gloom. There was no insult in his tone, only an aloof regard for truth. He had come, perhaps not in the name of Night Court, but instead to serve his own calculating curiosity.
![[Image: lothaire_chibi2_by_outofthefurnace-dbkx9cu.png]](https://orig09.deviantart.net/50c2/f/2017/234/4/0/lothaire_chibi2_by_outofthefurnace-dbkx9cu.png)
