He had stood dumbfounded before those beautiful, horrible, glorious, wretched gates for what felt like a lifetime. For a lifetime and longer, he gazed at the painstakingly wrought metal, willing it to open, praying that it was all an elaborate joke - that The Crows would burst from the trees and bushes that lined that impenetrable portal with laughter and jibes aimed at Raglan’s bruised heart.
That didn’t happen. The gates stood silent and permanent, not even creaking in the desolate wind that carried the scents of home upon its back.
So accompanied by a soul heavy with grief and a heart laden with questions, the lad had spread his wings and repeated the actions of a year ago; Raglan left Denocte behind. Soaring through cloud ridden skies, the Crow fled to the Dusk, chasing the essence of a darkening sky and the comfort of Denocte’s sister city. Terrastella, for all it’s beauty and all it’s grace, and despite it’s kinship to the Court of Eventide, still felt unfamiliar - not quite right, like an ill fitting coat or a blanket that is too short. It wasn’t that the Dusk Kingdom was lesser, no, it was just... Not Denocte.
As he glided above the capitol proper, having traversed the wrathful winds of the Praistigia Cliffs, Raglan began to feel acutely weary. Spiraling into a series of wide, lazy circles as he descended, the Silvertongue couldn’t help but heave a grateful sigh as his cream colored hooves pressed against the firm soil of Dusk’s main courtyard. Folding burgundy wings at his side, the bloody bay blinked blearily (you like what I did there?) at his surroundings, suddenly struck with a sensation of aimlessness as strong as any he had ever felt.
Beneath a lavender sky, with the air smelling nothing of smoke or jasmine, Raglan felt a question fall from his lips and to the earth at his hooves.
It had become a home of sorts... a home away from home, at least. So long as Denocte had its gates closed, he would not go back. It pained him to do so, to separate himself from his mother and brother, but Cynix refused to become one of those trapped.
Wandering Terrastella had also become a sort of second nature to the painted lad, and his hooves led him at a lazy pace, clipping against the ground with a soft announcement on each step, and it wasn't until he heard a voice that he stopped, and blinked. It was... familiar? Strangely so, enough that his wings flapped and tucked against his head as he moved a little slower, a little more cautiously as he rounded a corner, and paused.
Pink eyes blinked several times, and he felt a tightening in his chest as he saw the figure before him, thin legged, long winged, bay and rich in color. "..Raglan...?" The name felt so strange on his tongue, heavy almost, and he wondered if he was dreaming. If this boy before him was real, like an image out of the depths of his mind walking upon the earth.
Cynix blinked again, almost too shy to approach, too wary that the other could simply up and disappear once more without a breath of where he had gone.
The grass between his hooves had become increasingly interesting as the moment ticked by, the shadows between each stalk and stem growing longer and deeper with every exhale from the horned boy’s lungs. Raglan was a child of Midnight, of wrapping himself and slinking though shadows of ink and oblivion. Watching Day grow weary and lay his great burning head in the lap of Dusk was not something that the Crow was accustomed to. Indeed, Raglan had adhered to his nocturnal habit even through his time away from Novus’ borders. What a strange thing, the waning of light as it gave way to darkness, the gentleness with which the sun was embraced by the horizon.
Raglan was never much for religion, but in that moment, he could admire - respect, even - the love between his sibling deities.
He wondered if he could beg them to open his gates, to lead him back home.
“...Raglan...?”
The male jolted out of his reverie, lean muscles tightening and the framework of his wings bunching as he blinked through his surprise. No one should have known his name, no one here in this kingdom of in-betweens and dreamless sleep. Yet, as opal eyes focused upon the amethyst splattered face from his past, Raglan felt a disbelieving smile spring to his lips. Raglan pressed one hoof forward, letting the soft press of his weight ground his body in the moment.
“Hello, Little Sinner,” The Crow’s voice had dipped lower in his absence, the single cycle that he spent away evident in the fading of boyishness from his features. Slowly - gods, ever so slowly - the Silvertongue was growing into himself. “Fancy seeing you here - I’ve noticed that our world has gotten a little shaken up in my absence.” The pegasus tried his best to keep the pain from his voice, and in this he was successful, but he could not erase the emotion from his expression.
Yet, he was glad to see the feathered male, even if the soft spoken Cynix no longer smelled of home, he was still someone that Raglan had shared memories with - as fleeting as they were. For a moment, the Crow let himself get lost in the andromeda of color splayed across Cynix’s skin, his mind drifting to kinder times in the presence of the ivory stag. Yes, Cynix was still a piece of Raglan’s fragmented home; and for the time being, that was more than enough.
Cyn had once been a boy of lanky legs and odd proportions but as Fall drew nearer, so did his birth date. He was grown now, filled in to his body rather nicely and standing at seventeen two, large, but still not as tall as Raglan. The boy of amethyst and ivory stood before the bay, and his ears flicked forward as his wings tucked against him, the breeze rustling about to dislodge a feather or two from the base of his tail. The long and elegant feather simply drifted away, dancing in the wind as it did, while pink eyes remained on Raglan.
The nickname was not lost on him, and it was strange to hear a change in voice from the other. Then again, his own voice was a deeper rumble, taking on a timbre that could be something near his father's depth.
Emotions danced between them, and Cyn carefully rested a hoof on its tip, the feathering ruffling as he tried to keep himself from surging toward the other. Once upon a time, he would have done just that, preening at feathers and smiling, laughing, overjoyed at seeing the other. Now, however, there was a weight in his chest and gut that matched what Raglan wore on his features.
"A little. Solterra and Denocte.. again." It was a subject that struck a little too close to home, and he knew that was what was weighing the heaviest on them, the age old conflict now. The one that haunted and dogged his every step. He was certain there were other factors, too, but things were so... tense, now.
The smaller movements of the daintily winged male did not go unnoticed by the Orphaned Crow; indeed, Raglan found his eyes drawn to every breath, blink, and shift performed by Cynix’s nebula and marble form. Pangs of bittersweet nostalgia yanked at the bloody bay’s chest as memories of laughter beneath blankets of stars flooded his mind’s eye. Was time so much of a rift? Was the loss of their home so deeply felt that the two colts that they were would grow into stallions so distanced by circumstance?
“A little. Solterra and Denocte.. again.”
While Cynix hid his emotions well, Raglan was no stranger to how close the enmity between the two opposing courts lay to the stallion’s heart. He recalled the way Cynix had drawn stares and sometimes outright glares from denizens of the Night Court - all due to the lad’s parents having fallen for one another across imaginary boundaries. Raglan had never understood such vehemence aimed toward his soft spoken friend. Denocte was supposed to stand for freedom from conformity, freedom from those little rules that directed equines into narrow, flavorless lives; it was supposed to be a place that allowed the freedom of falling in love with whomever your heart chose.
Lowering his head to Cynix’s level, the horned Crow took a few hesitant steps forward, closing the distance little by little until he stood a personable length from his friend. Offering a tentative smile that stood so opposite of Raglan’s usual jaunty bravado, the young stag shuffled his wings at his sides and resisted the urge to reach forward with darkened lips and preen at the delicate wings attached to the scholar’s skull.
Raglan pushed a halfway mirthful laugh from his belly.
“The games that Kings and Queens will play over invisible lines and pretend fences always pan out rather interesting for us, no?” Another step closer, sorrow pressing heavily into the lines about opal eyes, the Crow spoke softly as he dared, “They’ve been good to you here, right? They better have been good to you.”
Cynix was the last piece of home that Raglan knew, and he’d tear down the entire Capitol if his final remnant of Denocte had a single feather out of place.
Cynix had never thought this would happen again, the two of them speaking, Raglan returning. The rust bay boy had grown tall, even taller than himself, and Cynix felt like the bumbling long legged thing he had been the last time they had met. Nothing but awkward limbs and flapping wings that tried to generate enough force to send him flying whenever he got excited. He'd been a small thing then, curious about the world.
He was curious now, too, but it seemed to have matured with him over time, and he blinked pink eyes, shuffling his wings before they drooped slightly as the other approached. Once upon a time, he would have been eager and excited for his friend to come close, but they had both grown, had become different beings, hadn't they? Raglan with his bloody bay coloration and large wings, his long legs and long horns. Cynix with his feathering and painted body, growing in to long legs himself, though holding himself a bit bulkier. A gentle giant.
His chest swelled with warmth however at the laugh, and his eyes crinkled a little in the corners, a smile on his own lips before it flickered ever so gently.
"The Kings and Queens need to learn to stop hiding and playing like children when there are lives at stake like their peoples'." He drew in a sigh, and he allowed -- finally -- his head to tip and his lips to touch the gem on Raglan's forehead softly. "Yes. Terrastella is a peaceful sanctuary to me in these times. I've heard, however, that Delumine is hosting a festival... perhaps we could go there, and shed our misery for a while?"
The proximity of Cynix stirred something in Raglan that he couldn’t quite place; it was a warmth in his gut, comforting and familiar. It was the feeling of home, but more concentrated, more pure. The Crow could only guess that it was the yearning he felt for Denocte and his adopted family combined with the bittersweet presence of the small-winged male standing before him now. It was as if his soul was trying to cradle the essence of Cynix’s presence and hold it close enough to erase the reality of being locked out of Reichenbach’s Kingdom. So while the lad resisted pull of despair, he allowed himself to relax into the feeling of belonging that spread over him as he basked in the presence of his friend.
Cynix was a candle’s flame held against the dark, keeping the unknown at bay and offering solace where there was none.
Raglan did not miss the smile that lit the alabaster stallion’s pastel eyes - and what expressive eyes they were, catching the light of the fading sun and shining brilliantly amidst the deepening shadows. It did his heart good to see expressions of happiness from the somber stallion that his friend had grown into. It made the innocence of the past seen closer than it was, more tangible in a way that brought a lightness to the horned Crow’s chest.
Yet Cynix’s next words tore a painful path through Raglan’s newfound cheer - not because of the harsh nature of Cynix’s words, no, the words hurt because they held so much truth. Raglan was rife with disappointment and weighed down with a sensation of betrayal at the hands of his king. Reichenbach was supposed to take care of his people, he was supposed to protect his Crows. He was supposed to protect Raglan, not as a king, not as a monarch or mentor, but as a Crow. As the first Crow. He who had rescued the young and filthy from the cobbles of Denocte and brought them to unimaginable heights... only to abandon his first, his Silvertongue.
Right as the sorrow swelled enough to overtake the bloody bay, Cynix raised his lips to brush over the gem in Raglan’s forehead, a soothing salve to Raglan’s invisible wounds. Silvery eyes slid shut and a sigh escaped his chest, a peace spreading delicately over his lithe frame.
Delumine is hosting a festival... perhaps we could go there, and shed our misery for awhile?
A lopsided grin sprang to life on the Crow’s face at the thought of mischief and laughter and more memories shared with the feathered scholar. Opening his eyes and finding the soft coral gaze of his friend, Raglan nodded vigorously, nearly salivating at the potential of the evening. Stepping back so that he could sweep into a flourishing bow, Raglan winked up at the galaxy clad male before him, “Lead the way, Sweet Sinner, there is mischief afoot!”
Pink, purple, and white lips spread a little in to a soft smile, drawing away from the gem that rested on the forehead of the taller stallion. It's all he knows right now to do for something as simple as affection. At the moment, it's all he wants to give, too. Affection. He wants to wrap the bloody bay in it and keep it swathed around him in warmth.
The laugh bubbled in his throat at the bow, and he lowered his winged head in response, feeling the feathery appendages flutter near his ears and then tuck up against him once more. Easily, he lifts himself up out of the bow, walking near the lanky male just to brush their sides together as a grin slipped over his lips, warmth trickling through him.
It'd been a while since he'd been so... happy. It was a nice feeling, and one, he realized, he didn't want to let go of. "To the Dawn Court we go then," he offered. Part of him was more than happy that Raglan was walking with him, rather than flying off.
@Raglan || would this one and yours be considered closing posts? o:
The laugh that bubbled up from Cynix’s throat was a soothing balm to the Crow’s frayed nerves. The melodic chiming of it was a soothing sound - and, the pegasus noted absently, laughter looked even better than it sounded when joy was written over multicolored features. Opal eyes were drawn to the soft fluttering of his friend’s alabaster wings and Raglan marveled at the delicate limbs, a bittersweet pang tugging at his heart as memories of preening the porcelain feathers flashed within his mind. Soon, he was sure of it, soon they would be as close as they were, and there would be no more pain when he thought of the past.
A shiver shimmied its way over dark crimson skin as Cynix’s galaxy-clad side brushed against Raglan’s own and the stallion turned his head to watch the scholar move past. ”To the Dawn Court we go, then.” Came that purring baritone that had so quickly become so uniquely Cynix’s and the Crow couldn’t help but chuckle as his grin widened. Pivoting on a pale hoof to fall into step with his comrade’s leisurely pace, Raglan craned his neck and jovially bumped his nose against the corded muscle of his friend’s shoulder.
It felt good to be in the company of someone who held so much memory of home and who presented such potential for future happiness - it felt good to be secure again. For so long, in both his time away and in coming back to find Denocte closed off from the world, Raglan had felt aimless and lost, as if his soul was adrift in an endless sea. Yet, with an old friend as his anchor and he prospect of mischief held beneath a darkening sky as his sail, the Silvertongue felt himself again.
Cynix couldn't help the small bounce to his step, his body easing in to something more relaxed. Having Raglan back brought a warmth in his chest that he couldn't quite convey, and his steps were more eager to get them to the Dawn Court. A land he had never been to, but one he was eager to explore with his friend at his side.
