Nighttime in Sideralis Prairie reminded the red stallion of the big sky country in which he'd spent his formative years. The sky stretched overhead, an uninterrupted and unpolluted dome of glittering splendor as its countless stars winked and glistened like a spray of crushed diamonds. He was a worldly creature, hooves planted firmly on the ground in more than just the physical sense, but such vastness awoke in him the very same awe so readily claimed by the more religious majority. Here on the prairie, Raymond remembered his smallness as readily as he remembered the path that had brought him across the leagues to this place and this moment.
Perhaps solitude had been a contrivance of his character, imposed out of bitter pragmatism rather than desire. Perhaps the part of him that had wanted so desperately for his dal'rend's dream to flourish had not died with his followers.
Ruth's presence, a distant yet overpowering weight alongside his own, shared her own view of the starlit sky from her nest deep in the Arma Mountains. Stars were scarce where she had weathered the tortuous millennium alone on a dead world, and here - freed or at least shielded by their connection from the most destructive elements of her Tarrasque nature - even the clouded mountains provided an endless cornucopia of things upon which she could feast her eyes.
An indistinct image pressed itself through the link like a drawing pressed against frosted glass and the red stallion's eyes focused more intently on the skies above. Several minutes passed in silent regard, until he caught sight of the familiar shape in the stars. Recognition flooded back through the link with the image, and Ruth answered with a deep prrum that Raymond need not be present to feel.
He had not played such an innocent game in a very, very long time.
Content to steal this moment from the night amidst the crushing weight of more substantial concerns, Raymond stood alone and apart amidst the softly rolling hills of Sideralis Prairie, his coat painted silver with moonlight and his eyes fixed upon the stars laid out overhead with a fixation better suited to the truly faithful.
***
Raymond
And at his feet they'll cast their golden crowns
When the man comes around.
Any night court citizen welcome!
aut viam inveniam aut faciam
07-19-2018, 12:14 AM - This post was last modified: 07-19-2018, 12:09 PM by Raymond
A soft lullaby of crickets and rustling grass drifts across the prairie. The night is clear and deep, dazzling all in the subtle silver splendor of the land’s goddess. The star show above though, wasn’t why he was here. Crowned gold slipped across the flat lands, his body rolling in a lengthened jog, letting muscles stretch and pull. Night air, cool and crisp wisps across his back and lifts his mane (growing long down his shoulder) off his neck. He was feeling good, and for others in his path, that was a dangerous thing.
So he wasn’t here to worship the goddess of the night (not being the most devout of worshippers, even given his loyalty), what was he here for? The answer lay in a shadow already a few miles away from him, also slipping across the land. Her smile, satisfied, secretive, and wicked matched his. Not that she let it get far, but that didn’t seem to be what he wanted anyway. Her smile was brighter than the stars because of the way he’d spoke, the heat that seemed to wrap around her when she got near, and his words. She wasn’t a saint herself, but the gold’s gilded tongue had her looking back multiple times at his shrinking gold form when they parted. Her smile grew, parted with a promise to see each other again.
He didn’t intend to honor that promise though. Though the gold supposed it was actually probable given he was intending to stay here in the lands of this court. It was not one of the positives of the decision to remain… but then she had been a pretty thing. Not that he had sought to push the line further. Satisfaction for the gold always came from the power. Her sigh of pleasure, her laughter, her twitch of electricity that arced in the touch of their skin. Each move she gave away more, with each sign of her pleasure she gave him his. A twisted low chuckle tumbles out as he shakes out his head and moves on. Ever heading to the Night Court, to his new keep.
So wrapped up in his satisfaction was the gold he nearly missed the creature. Moonlight flooded over the figure, catching his sight as he shook his head out. Head immediately jerks up as the gold’s gait choppily drops to a walk. The figure was alone though, all alone, staring up at the stars. Earth eyes watch, but find no reason to turn tail avoid. Besides, he was feeling far too good to not share the feeling…
Coming closer the gold’s tasseled tail curls and sweeps and he does nothing to hide the smile still playing on his lips. Still walking closer, but near enough for his voice to carry at his normal rolling rumble he speaks. “Star gazing?” It was light, still high from his earlier conquest. “Or have you been hypnotized by the lady of the land?” Head tilts as he finally comes to a stop, his lips still curled in that wicked grin with excitement. “I hear she’s quite a beauty, even puts the stars to shame.” Well he’d never seen her himself, but if the mare he’d just met was a normal lass of this place, then the goddess of it should certainly be hypnotizing. He’d have to put meeting her on his list.
And I heard, as it were, the noise of thunder
One of the four beasts saying, 'Come and see.' and I saw.
Raymond had a survivor's awareness. He knew long before he let on that he was no longer alone by the silhouette of pale moonwashed grey against the rolling hills. There was no need to stand guard when anything within a body's length of you was ripe for the reaping.
He tilted an ear toward the sound of Thranduil's voice, fielding a wordless question from his bonded as he signalled a pause in their peculiar game. Only then did he turn, grey eyes gone silver in the moonlight.
Raymond had seen Caligo before. He had seen many gods, of many shapes and sizes and creeds, and the look in his eye was not that of a man impressed by any of them. To him, beauty was at best a matter of happenstance and at worst an active contrivance meant to deceive - and the red stallion was neither impressed by coincidence nor won over by deceit. Show him a beautiful face and he'd describe to you its flaws in brutal detail.
Thus it was that the first impression Thranduil offered him was one of extreme shallowness. The lopsided shadow of a smirk that turned one corner of his mouth was more of a gift than a reaction, a participation trophy for being brave or foolhardy enough to walk up to an armed stranger and initiate conversation.
"Your standards seem very low," he said blandly, the tone of his words explaining in no uncertain terms that he had seen the lady of the land and had found her beauty little to be remarked upon - but then he personally had no interest in beauty. Beauty fades. Beauty can be undone.
Gods can be forgotten or killed, however lovely they are.
"What brings you here?"
@Thranduil
and at his feet they'll cast their golden crowns
when the man comes around
Annoyance. Eye rolling. Exasperation. Bewilderment. Tolerance balancing upon the edge of a knife. All reactions the gold could say he was quite familiar with. Though he always kept his coat clean, he was never put off by mud slung from a stranger’s eyes. Not that this was all he was greeted with. One hark twists back as the other still leans curiously forward at the accompanying curl of the lip. Amusement. Cockiness. A line begging to lash back at him. All also, perfectly well received and normal. Don’t pity the gold though (if you are so heart struck to do so), he quite enjoyed every moment. Afterall, hadn’t he started the conversation.
Of course what wasn’t normal, was a creature with a scythe nestled in their tail. The hard edge catches the moonlight and the gold holds a breath, looking back over the silver lined companion. No flaw in his mask, though he stops perhaps a little sooner than he might an unarmed damsel. The gold wanted to continue the night of revelry and deviant behavior, not invite another to slit his own throat. That would might make for a messy evening and he really wouldn’t feel like cleaning that mess up in the morning.
The silence breaks from the other with low rumble of words, even lower than the gold could manage, and it tilts his crowned head, drawing out from him a half laugh. “I wouldn’t let her catch you saying that.” The gold was no child, gods, no matter how immortal or high could bleed, but chances are, you’d bleed out first. Besides, sometimes beauty wasn’t simply worn on the skin, sometimes it came from within. Now, now, get your head out of fairytales. It comes from power, manner, and titles.
Now, what brought him here, wasn’t exactly why he was here. Perhaps best to just keep it simple. If the other wasn’t going to take the bait, the gold wouldn’t waste it. “I seek the Night Court, I intend to join its ranks.” The humored was lessened in the words of truth, but ever his eyes watched in curiosity, and his lips hold a humored grin.
And I heard, as it were, the noise of thunder
One of the four beasts saying,
'Come and see.' and I saw.
***
I wouldn't let her catch you saying that, the golden stranger fired back. Raymond's lip twitched up at one corner, flashing a lopsided smile that didn't bother with the pretense of rising to the other stallion's laughter.
If he wasted even a moment of his life showing unearned preferential treatment to a god's ego, he'd have greater punishments on his mind than divine retribution.
No, he was not at all worried about Caligo's vanity. If she was at all deserving of his attention, she would know at a glance or for the asking that Raymond was not one to be impressed by flashy displays and sultry looks. He had never been particularly lustful, and lusty maidens weren't really his type. He did not relish in the conquest of others' bodies, nor in imagining what it would be like to hold them to himself. He preferred to be the termites in the rotted-out beams of a church roof, gnawing away its last vestiges of resistance as the predatory priest prepares his Sunday sermon. He preferred to be the water seeping into thick castle walls in the height of a winter's day, breaking it before the waiting rebels outside through the grips of a hard midnight freeze.
He preferred a woman of storms and fury, eyes bright as starfire and body coiled as tightly as a stalking panther. What use had he for ogling the night mother's body, when his soul was already complete? And, knowing that, if Caligo still took umbrage at his indifference to her godly wiles, why the hell would he ever want to serve her anyway?
The stranger didn't belabor the point, though the flicker of his gaze perhaps belabored the point of Raymond's tail blade readily enough. Whether it was that or Raymond's subversion of his attempts to banter that reined in the yellow stallion's mood didn't particularly matter to him. Ruth, on the other hand.... She tugged at a distant edge of his consciousness like a child at her father's shirt sleeve, innocent selfishness making her rude.
Raymond studied him incisively as he spoke. There were hardly any ranks left within Denocte to speak of: Reichenbach and his pets had done a good job of bleeding the place dry before their cowardice bade them flee. Nearly that remained were drunken, washed-up veterans and frightened commonfolk. For a climber, if climber he was, it was delightfully fertile ground if one knew how to turn the soil. But climbers had gotten the night kingdom into this mess by the sound of things.
"What about the ranks of Denocte in particular captured your interest? You must have passed a fair few other opportunities to have arrived here."
His tone betrayed nothing beyond polite, active interest. It was not in the red stallion's nature to telegraph suspicion even if he felt it, and conversation came as easily to him as breathing.
***
Raymond
And at his feet they'll cast their golden crowns
When the man comes around.
Thranduil offered no explanation, but then Raymond doubted he would have felt obligated to do so in his place either. He hardly said much about himself or his motivations to those he would count among his friends, much less a complete stranger in a strange land.
Knowledge is both a weapon and a weakness. The golden stallion was probably justified in feeling unforthcoming.
"Ah, well," he said at length, when it became apparent that the stranger wouldn't answer, "the Night Court is that way." A loose gesture with his bladed tail indicated a vague direction in which he knew the castle to be, though it wasn't visible from this particular vantage point. "Maybe you'll find what you're looking for there."
With that he broke away, indicating to Ruth that their game could now continue.
Raymond. and at his feet they'll cast their golden crowns
when the man comes around
Closing this thread as it's woefully out of date. If you want to thread Thrandy with Ray they can reconvene during/post disaster plot!
