She watches as the others begin to show up. She can’t help but take note that she is the first to respond. She doesn’t believe in Gods or Goddesses. None of that has any bearing on her. If this individual was a god as he claimed to be, then he looked like a pathetic one. His posture was solemn and sunken, his posture void of anything regal. There are others that have gathered that look far more God-like than he does. But she says nothing on this. She’s curious about what he has to say…so see if perhaps it might of use to her. If it’s not, she’ll make her merry little way away form the gathering. Why else would she need to stay? She doesn’t really know anyone gathered anyway.
He speaks up then, addressing the people of Delumine, the court. Was she a member? Hell, she’d barely met anyone. She’d met a few here and there amongst the fires, but did that make her a member? She’s unsure if this speech applies to her, but for once, she’s silence as she listens. She’s towards the back of the gathered crowd, not wanting to be front and center. She wants to watch, to study, to figure out if this is supposed to be important to her.
He speaks of the wildfires caused by unnatural things. She knows this to be true. She’d seen the way the squirrel had lit a fire in its wake. But should she speak up? Should she tell others what she knew? She didn’t owe anything to this court. What would it benefit her?
She sees the female she met in the caves and she simply smirks. She can see how much the mare is worked up, how much she demands of this deity. It’s interesting to see the relationships between this so-called god and his children. So far, it only seems like one is devoted to him. But she says nothing of this matter, simply watches. She still has not determined if it’s beneficial to her to speak up. If this land was going to eat itself, why not let it?
Somnus’ words were all he needed to know that the one standing before them, bedrazzled and ashen just like the rest of them, was the very deity said to rule these lands - Oriens, as he recalled Somnus saying once.
The Warden stands and listens, his features weary and his eyes, while still alight with determination to save and salvage what they still had, were dim with fatigue. His mind painted a picture of the night he had spotted the fire, seeming to meld into existence rather than being started by any one thing in particular. Its origin had bothered him a great deal in the beginning, but as the days passed and their chances of stopping it diminished, Ulric would be a liar to say he’d given anymore thought on how it came to be.
His ears ticked back in thought, but he remains silent as Somnus and Pavetta speak their own thoughts first. Somnus is eloquent as ever, even in the face of disaster and tragedy, but his deliberations are wise. Pavetta wonders if there might be another, a God that could perhaps be the root of the problem, and Ulric loathes the sinking feeling that she may be on to something.
“Or a creature,” he offers, “Maybe one that feels slighted by something, or someone. Or is a trickster of some kind.” It was impossible to say, and it was even more improbable that Delumine could have wronged some beast capable of such power. He was not as well read as many, but as far as he knew, Delumine had always been a gentle land of peace.
“But, we can’t estimate where the next fire will start. When one goes out, two more begin. We can’t be everywhere at once.”
"Speaking."
HISTORY HAS ITS EYES ON YOU ➳ allcontact is permitted and encouraged
10-06-2018, 08:58 AM - This post was last modified: 10-06-2018, 08:59 AM by Ulric
"I am the one thing in life I can control. I am inimitable, I am an original."
Wise One.
He had heard his father speak of him numerous times, and despite his age, Regis knew precisely who he was, at least now. Oriens was the one who stood before them, the patron God of their home who watched over and protected them. His name had been uttered on the lips of those huddled together inside the citadel, and although it had taken time, he had finally come to answer those hushed prayers for salvation.
But, because he is so young, smart though he may be, the sickly child couldn’t comprehend what might truly be happening around them, nor the cause of it. All that he did know were the fantastical stories he’d been told since before he could even formulate a word of his own.
His lips drew back in a thoughtful manner, taking a quick glance around those gathered, and the moment his uncle had finished speaking, the dun took a small, but brave step closer and spoke up. “I bet it was a dragon, Mister Oriens,” he insisted, ”Cause they can breathe fire, an’ Uncle Ulric says they’re big bullies, too.”
Being Regent demands a certain ability to focus - a quality Ipomoea has never been very good at. Be it due to his nature and the way he was born, or nurture and the many times he was moved around as a child, he was prone to boredom and wanderlust. Meetings were especially challenging, but he liked to think he was getting better at honing his patience.
Today, however, there was no hope for him.
The open fields surrounding the Dawn Court capitol ever called to him, singing a near irresistible song that promised him clear skies and flowers and clouds to make shapes out of. He tugged at his flower crown absentmindedly, pulling it from his brow to remove a delicate blossom from the woven circlet, re-braiding it so that the remaining flowers would fill the gap he created. And when he returned his crown to its proper place, he kept his stolen flower firmly within his telekinetic grasp, all the better to admire it while he waited for something more interesting to take place.
He was so absorbed in his flower and daydreams that he almost missed the god speaking. When he finally realized what was going on, he nearly dropped his flowers in his haste to listen - but he was still too slow to understand, and far too slow to add his voice to the fray. All at once they began to speak, Somnus and Pavetta and Ulric and even sweet Regis, and it was all Po could do to follow along.
’Someone is starting fires? Or something?’ he couldn’t believe it. ’Who would do such a thing?’ The word monster slipped through his mind, unbidden, unspoken, but present all the same. He couldn’t believe it, wouldn’t believe it, not without proof.
But then again, when was a god ever wrong?
Ipomoea shifted uncomfortably on his feet, looking around at all the familiar faces surrounding him. 'Could it be one of them?' The thought shamed him.
His voice was small - far smaller than a Regent's had any right to be - but it didn't stop him from raising his question to the god. "How, Oriens? How are we supposed to stop them?"
hearts are breaking
wars are raging on
you’ve got me nervous
i’m at the end of my rope
hey, man, we can’t all be like you
i wish we were all rose-colored too
my rose-colored boy
There’s a moment of silence, so profound Oriens can taste the anticipation - and then, seemingly all at once, they begin to speak. First Somnus, and Pavetta, and Ulric, all familiar faces and leaders within in the Court. He waits until the clamor of voices die down once more before he speaks.
“A dragon is certainly capable of starting fires, Regis,” and for once, a smile creases the corners of the god’s eyes, bringing a bit of warmth and life back into his features. “But this time, it isn’t a dragon starting the fires.”
“It’s not another god.” It’s a small consolation, but he hopes it can soothe the striped Emissary’s fears at least a little. “But I do know what it is. A creature indeed - several of them, in fact, with the unique ability to set fire to their surroundings, yet immune to the danger themselves.”
He would help them, if they let him; but the key to restoring their home’s balance was in their own hands and minds.
”In fact - I believe you’ve already encountered some of them, @Pavetta? @Sloane?” They may not have known it at the time, but they had come face to face with Delumine’s fire starters in the forest. Would they recognize them now, though? “What do you know of the squirrels you found in the forest?”
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Sloane remains quiet, listening to the others gathered. She feels like a stranger here, not at all knowing any of these people. Sure, she’s seen a couple here and there, but she doesn’t know them and they certainly do not know her. In fact, she still on the fence as to whether or not she should tell them of her encounter with the little squirrels that she saw in the forest. She doesn’t owe this court anything. They haven’t given her anything worth paying for, except perhaps a home – even though she’s not convinced that the home will come at no cost to her. Everything comes at a price.
She looks back to the one they deem a god. Sloane has never encountered a god before, not really knowing what distinguishes them from her. He looks mortal, more or less. There’s nothing there that would scream he is anything more than what she or the individual next to her is. And yet, he speaks as though he has a holding on these individuals, as if he is a king or perhaps a god they worship. Sloane has never worshiped anyone a day in her life and she certainly wasn’t about to start now.
She is just about to leave the gathering, not really caring to talk about the fires. What was the point? They could not stop the fires so why bother worrying about them? It was far easier to just accept what was happening than to try to alter the course of history. And yet, something stops her just as she is about to turn and leave.
The individual…the god…the Oriens has said something that causes her to pause. She’s slow to turn her head back towards the being. He speaks of creatures able to start fires and yet not get burned. She has seen a creature like these – those squirrels. But what has caused her to turn around is the way he identifies her by name – that he knows she has seen them.
Eyes settle on Oriens, her attitude altogether questioning. She has never seen this being before, so how does he know he name and how does he know she has seen the squirrels. “How do you know this?” She is skeptical, unwilling to believe that perhaps it truly is a god, that perhaps he truly is omniscient.
By now she has turned completely around to face Oriens. While she is still hesitant to divulge her information, she knows that Pavetta will. She wants to be the one who receives the glory for this knowledge. She is already slipping through the encounter undetected until now. Now she does not want to be undetected. She wants to show these people that she is not simply a fly on the wall. She does possess information…information that she’s willing to sell for a price. “They look like ordinary squirrels…and yet…” Her voice pauses a moment as she looks around the gathering, hoping that each set of eyes rests on herself. “When startled, fire ignites upon their back. They are able to maneuver through the underbrush, successfully igniting it in their wake. But they do not die. They do not burn. I am unsure how to kill them.” Kill was perhaps a strong word and yet, she does not want to leave these creatures a live. They are dangerous. If given the opportunity, they could ravage the whole world in fire. Yes, the squirrels needed to die.
"I am the one thing in life I can control. I am inimitable, I am an original."
The little Prince’s features grew pensive as Oriens addressed him, agreeing with his statement but assuring him that no dragons had been involved with the fires that raged through their Court. But if it wasn’t the fault of one of the dragons from his favorite stories, what else could it possibly be?
Dual-toned eyes followed the God’s gaze to one of Delumine’s other members, a newcomer of ebony and ivory that stood much taller than a majority of the rest. Now, his brows were furrowed and he looked positively puzzled; squirrels were to blame?
Looking between the dark one called Sloane and the familiar face of Pavetta, Regis shifted closer to his father with a frown, pressing his ribby side up against Somnus’ foreleg as he sought his comfort. They were going to have to kill the squirrels? Was there no other way? The thought of it soured his typically good mood and his ears flicked back, casting a pleading gaze up to his father and then to Oriens himself.
When Oriens stayed he knew the root of the problem, the thing that had been starting the fires and ravaging their land, his land, Ulric stood at attention and looked hard towards Delumine’s patron deity. How long had he known? Why wait so long to tell them, and why ask them if they knew the cause in the first place? A ripple of anger washed over the roan, but he did his best to shrug it off; it was best not to question a God, especially considering their current situation.
The hand of confusion slapped Ulric square in the face with what Oriens said next, however. These fires they had been fighting day after day, running themselves ragged in order to protect what was left of their home, they had all been caused by... squirrels? Perhaps if the thought weren’t so maddening and infuriating, it would be funny.
Gilded eyes fell to Sloane and Pavetta as the newcomer and the Emissary were addressed, listening closely to what knowledge they had to offer. They had seen squirrels capable of igniting themselves on fire, without bringing harm to themselves. Ulric’s dark lips drew back as he considered the unlikely and unexpected threat, and directed his gaze back to Oriens.
“How can they be stopped?” His voice lacked the annoyance he felt, heavy instead with exhaustion and little else. I’ve never heard of such a thing; is there something that caused their appearance here in the first place?” Or had they always been here?
"Speaking."
HISTORY HAS ITS EYES ON YOU ➳ allcontact is permitted and encouraged
Relief. It washes over her in a rush, a wave falling upon the beach. If it is not a rebellious, sinister god, then surely they could handle whatever might be causing this chaos. If a god was behind this…Pavetta was not so sure they even stood a chance.
Her ears flip forward at the sound of her name.
“Yes.” She frowned, brow furrowed. Lungs screaming, the smell of her own hair burning... Recalling the race for her life in the forest was not something she wanted to dwell on or even revisit. But Oriens insisted. And if it would help Dawn Court discover what was behind the Novus disasters, then she needed to speak up. “It is as Sloane says.”
She listened to the questions, the comments. Physically, she was here. Mentally…she was in that flaming forest, racing against flames, against death…against whatever might be behind this.
Squirrels? Surely the answer was not so simple.
a pearl in pigshit, a diamond on the finger of a rotting corpse,
creature in whom nothing, but nothing, remains of an elven woman ---
this is hideous but it's all i have in me at the moment ;_;
Squirrels? Ipomoea’s brow furrows, a frown tipping the corners of his lips as he listens. He couldn’t make sense of it in his mind - squirrels always looked so happy, he had fed several acorns and other tree nuts during his walks in Viride. The idea that those innocent woodland creatures were to blame - no, he couldn’t even think of it.
Perhaps they were wrong.
“Maybe we don’t have to kill them,” he said softly, echoing Regis’ sentiments. ’And if we do…’ Suffice to say, Ipomoea would not be involved in that particular process.
He looks to Ulric, his mind turning slowly, far too slowly for comfort. “There has to be a way to stop them,” he agreed. But how? His mind went back to the forest before the fires, the way the squirrels had danced along in his trail, gathering the nuts he scattered after him. A brave few had even taken the treats directly from his telekinetic grasp, chattering happily as they ran off with their prize. They had seemed so happy, so peaceful… Surely those furry, happy creatures hadn’t intended to cause so much destruction?
The scene replayed over and over again in his mind, drowning out his thoughts.
hearts are breaking
wars are raging on
you’ve got me nervous
i’m at the end of my rope
hey, man, we can’t all be like you
i wish we were all rose-colored too
my rose-colored boy
Wise One.
