[AW] Pendulum

[Noctiilucent]

She could not keep her promises no matter how flooded by emotion she was. No matter how determined she was. Noctii had been absent in the court, unable to face the masses after promising Isra that she would. The unicorn splashed with the golden hues of the sun and stars wandered listlessly through the swarms of bodies in the streets. Her appearance was haphazard, and there was an obvious lack of care for herself in her once pristine features. Noctii could not forgive herself for her failures, she had been meant to be a warrior, and now she hid and wallowed in her pity. Her blue gaze drifted over the sea of faces as their bodies passed her by. These were her first contacts with others since Isra's subsequent acceptance of the thone. She had torn her heart out and shown it to the new Empress, and her promises rang hollow as the husks of the strange cotton plants in fall. Her body felt weighted, and cold as she moved through the crowds. Vendors lined the streets, and she couldn't imagine why she wandered here. 

The former daughter of Reth came to a halt out of the way of the stream of bodies and watched them wander by. Many seemed in jubilant spirits and chattered amongst themselves and the groups that had come to enjoy this place. She stood beside a very ancient looking wooden vendor's stall with a strangely exotic woman. Her voice was husky, and she appeared as though her heritage carried Arabian blood, but her hair was wild and curly. Her eyes a bright green, and were the first thing that Noctii noticed against the vendor's bay pelt. A strange churning of attraction floated up within her, one she had fought off for most her life. She couldn't possibly be attracted to fellow vixens, could she? What would Xamis think of her to give in to such temptation? 

The vendor addressed Noctii, dispelling her thoughts on attraction, but their words were lost in the clamor of the crowd. A collection of strange veils seemed to hang from the ancient wooden stall. Noctii just shook her head and gave a shrug as she pushed herself against the current of equines bombarding her. It felt much like the weights she so frequently worried about. She only had time to sit in her worries, and disappointment in her inability to do anything. Would this ceaseless feeling always plague her? Noctii peered with her face contorted in anxiety, somewhat hoping for a familiar face in the crowd to ease her anxiousness. To give her purpose.

 "Speech" Thoughts

"Speech"
Notes: First post in awhile, I'm sorry it's absolute garbage.
Tags: @Isra /Open
Words: xxx

Hold onto Me

When you think you're sinking

[Isra]

Isra the night huntress

“I'm not ashamed of heroic ambitions."


Tonight it was Fable that wanted to go to the markets.

Isra, unable to deny him a thing, soon found herself wandering through the press of bodies and the veils of smoke. The whispers dance around her, awe and wonder, fear and loathing. When a whisper rises to a angry pitch she always pauses to look behind her for a flash of white. It stills feel strange to her, to be the hunter and watch the darkness with eyes unafraid and angry. Even Fable feels the tightness of this night through his hunger and his swooping joy as he twists and twines in strange patterns with the pygmy dragons.

Can we go to the sea after? Fable asks, diving low to brush his wings across Isra's mane. Through the bond she can feel a little of his sharp hunger and her own stomach moans in echo.

Of course. Isra looks away from the darkness only long enough to trace his serpent curves fondly. Tonight even Fable cannot keep her from staring a little harder in the places between market stalls and faded silks. She's so distracted by her hunting (how strange, she thinks, that she is a unicorn that hunts) that she doesn't even notice the golden glow of Noctiilucent until they are brushing shoulder-to-shoulder.

Like two dark ships passing in the night--

“Oh!” Isra startles, at once fearful and brave to feel the brush of skin against her shoulders so soon after the attack. “Noctiilucent, it's wonderful to see you again.” It feels like a blessing, to breathe deep and settle her skin. And for the first time of the night, as Fable lands across her back, Isra stops her hunting.

This time when she  softly sighs, into the silence between them, it rings with contentment instead of fear and sadness.



@Noctiilucent

[Noctiilucent]

A familiar form drifted through the figurative smoke that shrouded her. It was Isra, the very reason for her anguish. No, she was the reason for it. Her inactivity had spurned her self-loathing this time, every time. Noctiilucent would never blame her sovereign for such matters, and yet she still craved the affection and companionship of Isra, while she herself was inadequate. The two had exchanged heartfelt words many days ago, months even. Isra's exclamation of a greeting made her wince internally, but she donned a quiet smile to appease her Queen. The doubt and hateful thoughts spread across her mind like an infection. It was virulent. The anxieties dissipated in the presence of Isra, instead, they shifted to self-criticism.  "Isra." Noctiilucent greeted her gently, but her words were loud enough to reach her Sovereign. "It's always a delight to see you. How have you been?" As the words flooded from her ivory kissers the instant regret for them sank into the pit of her stomach. Why won't I ever be good enough? She'd never consider a friendship with the likes of you. The vitriol poured across the intricate webs of anguish in her mind.

What a fine daughter of Xamis she was. Not that it mattered any longer, she was now a Daughter of Denocte. The opposite of her once beloved sun, but the moon could not burn her in the same ways.  "Can we get out of here? I've been suffocated by so many bodies these last few hours, I'd like a chance to chat with you if you two are up for it?" Noctiilucent offered to her Sovereign with another quiet smile. The way her mood shifted like the tides made her uneasy these days. Though there was a great shame that permeated her very core for her lack of participation, there was still a part of her that hoped Isra would not lose faith in her.  "I'm so sorry I've been absent." Noctii admitted to Isra quickly, not wanting to drag this out in the middle of writhing masses.

The sigh that escaped from Isra's lips had Noctii on edge quite abruptly. Her anxieties flooded through the gates, and nearly spilled out into a dramatic scene. Isra did not seem perturbed, but rather she seemed almost happy. Effortless. She felt captivated by her Sovereign once more, just as she had the first day she had met Isra.

 "Speech" Thoughts

"Speech"
Notes: I dunno what's going on rn :') I'm sorry for the awful writing.
Tags: @Isra /Open

And I thought

Maybe we could save ourselves

[Isra]

Isra before the crooked door

“It is a terrible magic in this world to ask for exactly the thing you want."


If there is anything Isra is good at spotting it's the uncertainty of horses in their skin. And if the ghost was an uncertain sort of villain she would have spotted him as easily as she could pick out constellations from the night sky. Instead Isra can only see the flash of something in the golden mare's gaze and the shadows pooling between the teeth of their sad smiles.

This is what she's familiar with.

Isra closes the distance between them and the stones at her hooves turn to sweet, soft grass and blooms of white-flower that taint the smoke and spice air with tendrils of sugar-smell. The sweetness taints her lips as she reaches to brush them across Noctillucent's shoulder, her cheek. In her own gaze there is nothing but empathy. There is no forgiveness because none is needed.

When she breaks the heavy, full of sorrow, silence her voice is whisper thin as she swallows up a hundred little lies. “I've been well enough.” Isra wonders if the other mare can taste the taint of bitterness in her words, the way it rots the sweet sugar and smoke around them. Between them one of the flowers starts to wilt and return back to black stone and dust.

Fable presses his nose to the tender place behind her ear and when he hums it sounds to her like the sound a conch shell makes when she listens to it ache for the sea. It sounds like waves and surf and sand song. In the song he sends her a image and this time when she smiles there is no sorrow and her gaze sparks with something that almost looks impish.

“I know just the place.” Isra laughs and turns to press her way through the crowd. Fable rises from her back and with a soft spurt of sea-water from his lips he leads the way. The water tastes like salted rain when Isra lifts her gaze and kicks her heels up into a slow trot. “Follow me.” Each stride takes them further from the center of the markets and each ringing fall of her hooves on stone leaves behind pearl and gold instead of slate.

Isra doesn't stop until the brightness of the markets fade, until the smoke and spice on her tongue turns to dust and rot and age. She only stops when the crooked door of an old building looms before her, covered in cobwebs. “There is no need to apologize.” She offers belatedly, knowing that perhaps guilt chased the two mares as much as their own shadows did.

And when Isra walks to the door and taps it with her horn it turns into curtains of sea-weed that cling hungrily to her skin as she walks into the darkness of the old, ancient building.



@Noctiilucent

[Noctiilucent]

Isra is sweet in her approach and the gentle brush of her lips against the golden dappled shoulders sends a shiver down her spine. Again her muzzle brushes her porcelain cheek, and Noctii cants her head the opposite direction of Isra, but she leans into the touch. Her Sovereign was effortless, and the breath of the night court. Noctii felt a hot flush abruptly enter her frame in the absence of Isra's touch. How was it she could find an attraction to someone without knowing them well? She tried to stifle the feelings and prepare for the conversation ahead. Suddenly sweet scents wafted up from their feet, something that the former Rethian noticed although her eyes had closed momentarily. Her gaze returned to look upon the frame of Isra. There is a small twitch in her expression that begged Noctii to consider if this was her honest response or not. Noctii decided that her Queen did not need to justify nor open herself up so freely. But the bitter undertones are noticed, though Noctii is not sure that she wanted to comment on it. It was not a conversation for the night markets. Isra's companion presses their muzzle to her ear, and it seemed to spark inspiration within the Night Lady. Isra informed her that she knew just the place and began to drift toward the edges of the swarms of bodies shifting.

They traveled beneath the sky that was growing darker, and more stars began to litter the sky. Noctii had stolen glances skyward as they walked, the silence between them was not uncomfortable. Though her worries did not subside. The golden and ivory maiden wondered with some frustration whether or not she'd always feel like this, or if this was simply a chapter of her life that she had to move on from. Before she realized, they came upon an ancient looking building. It looked as though it could breathe and inform those of the history that had long since passed. Her jaw hung agape momentarily as she stared at the grand structure, and was only jarred back to reality by Isra's reassurance that her apology was unnecessary. Isra disappeared through a curtain of seaweed, it clung to her effortless frame with a voracious hunger. Noctiilucent moved to join her without hesitation, and old parts of who she once was rekindled. It was like a spark of fire that had jolted her out of her strange funk. "Isra, are you truly well? Or do you wish to keep the truth off the table for another time?" 

The words flowed out almost haphazardly, and far more delayed than Isra's reassurance. "How do you face the changes that you find most difficult?" Noctii prompted suddenly, while admiring the strange interior they now found themselves in. She wandered almost idly beside Isra, and at times fell behind. Is this how I learn to integrate myself from a daughter of the sun to a daughter of the night? She wondered to herself as she waited to find what Isra would give for her answer. "How do you leave behind an old identity to embrace a new one? Have I told you of my homeland yet, Isra? I was to tell Reichenbach, but he is gone." The bitterness flowed into her words, not it was her turn to relish in her disappointment. "Would you be the friend I tell, and hold the most dear?"





 "Speech" Thoughts

Notes: <3
Tags: @Isra /Open

And I thought

Maybe we could save ourselves

[Isra]

Isra who might shape a world

"She carefully unfolded the stirring that she had so tightly packed away."


Outside, Fable curls himself up on an overhang. His tail sways in the summer wind like the flag of a pirate ship. Hunger still sends sharp pains through the walls of his belly; he's yet to eat triple his weight in fish tonight (and the sea still calls to him like a siren song). But he remembers from Isra's nightmare how dangerous these dark alleys can be and so he remains watching the single pathway to this building.  In his face his eyes shine sharp and almost vicious and he imagines himself to be a wolf instead of a young dragon.

Inside the building Isra has already forgotten (for tonight) how dangerous the darkness of her kingdom can be.

Her steps echo against the empty walls and her hooves leave delicate half-moon in the thick dust coating the wood floor. Books are piled on a half rotted desk and Isra drags her nose gently across the bindings, already half gone in the musty smell of lonely words that haven't been read for years.
Part of her has already slipped away from Noctiilucent and all the fear and uncertainty that must run like acid in their veins.

Only the other mare's words draw her back to the reality and when she lifts her head from the desk there is a coating of dust on her lips like sugar. She sneezes and that makes her laugh a little before she turns back towards Noctiilucent and recalls that tonight there is more in her world than stories and books.

“Another time,” The words are gentle and Isra battles to keep any hint of dismissal from them. Tonight she doesn't want to burn with violence and rage, tonight she wants to remember how to be gentle and emphatic again. “Tonight is for you.” She says and her voice washes out into the dark shadows of this place as she returns close enough to Notctiilucent that their shoulders brush when she cocks a hoof and settles in to listen.

All story-tellers can listen as well as they can imagine other words from the hollowness of silence.

“I used to not face them at all. I used to run from the terrifying parts of life and from the strangeness I felt at no longer being who I once was.” At her back her tail flicks uneasily and puffs of dust rise up like clouds around them. “I was like this building, dusty and almost dead. Every window of me where light could have pooled in was crusted black with soot.” Isra brushes her nose across a golden shoulder and tugs sweetly at the mane rippling down the mare's sides. “But then I decided that I would try being brave and that each day I would change something small, both in myself and in the world around me. I decided that if I did not like who I was or how the world was I would remake it.”

When Noctiilucent brings up the older king Isra can't help the stutter in her lungs when she recalls how a forest burned and how her skin still aches when she looks at the bonfires. Tonight, she has to remind herself, is not for rage, and so she blinks back her bitterness and smiles as gently as a distant star might shine though a black sky.

“I would be honored to be your friend and hear your story, Noctiilucent.”  She whispers, because tonight is for old dusty words and brittle pages.

Tonight is for remaking the world.


@Noctiilucent

[Noctiilucent]

Noctii does not bother Isra as she wanders from her side, her sovereign drifted like a ghost between these crumbling walls. Instead, the golden mare admires the whimsical nature that seems to follow, and embrace Isra when it is given the chance. The admiration stirring inside soon turned to fondness, and her bitterness was swept away in the tides that Isra brought with her. Noctiilucent suddenly realizes that she is staring at Isra, with a smile upon her face. She is quick to hide this fact when Isra turned to face her again, lips coated in the dust of ruin. A sneeze erupted from the bay mare and she joins Isra in her laughter. Their laughter soon floods the forgotten walls, and Noctii wonders if their laughter would remind the walls what warmth felt like. It was useless to get sentimental about such things, but places like this made her sad. It bothers her, that these walls sit, and rot with time. They were sinking stones or an ancient relics in the oceans of life that surrounded them.  Isra speaks gently to her, but she still feels a pang of rejection ring through her. Perhaps that is what happens to those who spill themselves out into pools. Eventually, they will not reach the edges of the space they exist within. Noctiilucent smiles to her and gives her a gentle nod, turning her head as Isra approaches her. 

The warmth of Isra soothes the sting of her rejection, no matter how small it is. Noctii smiles as Isra tugs her mane and reminds herself in the silence that she was not rejected for all. Her Queen would not have humored her approach if she was unwelcome. This sadness that permeated her existence was a familiar demon, but it was not like her to be so crippled by it. Once she had been a warrior, so what was she now? Isra poured her own struggles with her past, though vague it provided the answers that she had asked for. Noctii couldn't keep running and expecting anything to change, she would have to shape her world as Isra suggested. It came as no surprise that the dreamy bay had encountered similar struggles to herself. They were one and the same to an extent. Noctii felt in her bones that she would relate to no one here. They would not understand Reth, nor how she could do the things she did. Noctii ignores the bitterness that overtakes Isra for a few moments, and although she is curious, she does not press the issue.  "I never used to be this way. Or perhaps I did and was just too distracted to realize it. I fear that if I try to shape my own world or destiny that I will surely crumble all that was built around me. That I will destroy all who support me. I was born a disease, and for that, I have paid greatly." Noctii explains to Isra, but her words do not flow from pity, the flow from the pain of experience.

Isra invites her to share her story, and she feels relief and hesitation rush through her. This will not allow her to go back, and hide who she was. Noctii wants nothing more than to be free from her chains of burden, they only hold her back from embracing her new life here.  "Thank you, Isra. I'd gladly share any night with you. But it is an honour to call you my friend. To know that you are not just my leader." She speaks quite fondly, and her features soften as she peers a the bay.  "I am a daughter of Reth. If you have heard of my homeland, I won't be surprised. The reputation of Reth extends to many domains, as they hark they are the Children of the Sun. I used to think the gods were dead, that they deserved no thought or care. But they are very real, and they are very dangerous. I was given a great many gifts upon my birth by Solomnus. He painted me 'with the beauty of the sun, and a love that burns like fire' they said." She pauses, as the information she was about to thrust upon Isra would be great.  "I am one of the few who have met any god from Reth. There have only been four like me in the history of my homeland. I met the very god who created me, Solomnus came to me in a time where my anguish threatened to consume me. Our Sun was Xamis, the father of all our deities. He killed my only and closest friend to punish me for my hatred. I ruined much, destroyed so many things. I tainted and corrupted once happy families in my youth. For I too was consumed with such rage. I was blessed by these gods as much as I was cursed by them. I had no control over my emotions, and it was said to trouble even Xamis." Noctii pauses again, trying to catch her breath to weave the tale of her horrible history.

 "Xamis set me on the path to redemption, and I was comforted only by Cydphy, the goddess of Spring. Solomnus was the only one to visit me during my punishment. I had earned the scorn and contempt of many gods. There were few who supported me. I became the Ashes of the Sun in title the day that I earned the punishment of the Sun. I could not bear the pressure, and the sadness consumed me. It chased me here, to Denocte. I still cannot forgive the gods for taking the life of a dear and precious friend. He had been our King, and I had nearly brought ruin to Reth. I am not proud, I brought great shame to my family. I once was a warrior, and now I can only breath from the bones of my former shell. I don't know who I am without them, those gods. I hate them. I hate the demands of all the gods. It wasn't I who begged for creation, but my existence was meant to serve them. " She breaths heavily now and the struggle of sharing this tale is obvious. It strains her, and the shame is so apparent in her frame. It hangs around her like a cloud bloated with rain. The bitter pain she feels seeps back in, and tears flow from her lids. She blinks harshly to clear her vision, but she cannot forget the pain of losing her closest friend.  "I still feel too much, but it is passion that rivals that of Xamis. Or so I am told. Perhaps this is a curse those gods gave to me. I still fear they will arrive here, with the fury of the sun burning across Denocte. I fear that my sister will follow close on my heels, her title is the Wrath of the Sun for good reason. If you are unfamiliar with Reth, they are a heavily militaristic society. I still feel the white-hot rage of my youth, but I have nowhere to channel it but myself. I am so sick of moping around, I just want to mean something to anyone."




 "Speech" Thoughts

Notes: Sorry for the novel! If you'd like for Isra to know about Reth I'm 100% on board with that <3
Tags: @Isra /Open

And I thought

Maybe we could save ourselves

[Isra]

Isra of the silver wrath 

“And there is nothing more dangerous in this world, in any world, than someone calm, clear and angry.”


For a moment Isra does not want to be a unicorn. She wants to be a bit of fire and a fleck of ash shaken loose from the wings of a phoenix. She wants float on the cool air between these dusty, once dead walls. She wants to swim through the rivers of blood in Noctiilucent and burn out all the traces of hatred and poison left to drag her down into the dark mire of sadness.

Isra wants to be whatever it is that will save her friend.

And so perhaps her touch turns a little hotter when she tucks it against the other mare's neck, a little more like steel instead of warm skin.  Each of the spoken words sinks into her bones, her soul, her heart. She can feel them all like old scars and aches of battles that she knows nothing of how to fight. All she knows is suffering and that she can relate too, she knows the darkness and how to whisper to it of drowning.

It's not until the story is done that she pulls her nose from Noctiilicent's crest. She brushes her across the mare's dark cheek and wishes again to be fire instead of a unicorn who is a queen. Each tear she tastes bring something dark and dangerous to the surface of her heart. Her magic rises towards those aches and that part of her is all fire and nothing of unicorn sweetness. “You are safe from all of them here. Here you can heal from all your regrets and become whoever it is that you decide to be.” Each of her words is a promise and a bond that she would die before severing.

The last tear is soon wiped away by her touch. “This house is yours. I think it needs you as much as you need it.” At her hooves a once old carpet blooms into bright purples and reds and the broken wool becomes silk. It is the last thing her magic does before it sinks deeper and deeper into that dark thing blooming on the surface of her heart.

Isra thinks of teeth then, of rage and of monsters brave enough to wait outside her walls.

She thinks of fury.

“But if they do come,” Isra licks the tears from her lips and pulls away to meet their gazes together like swords. “Your sister and your gods will find no welcome here. All they will find here is how much the moon can hate the sun and how very cold she can be.” Isra lifts her horn into a beam of moonlight shifting through the dark clouds and she welcomes that dark thing in her heart to burn and burn and burn like fire.

Outside Fable lifts his head towards the night sky. He roars until all the horses in the markets turn towards the sound and think to themselves that it's a blessing that their queen loves her citizens so very, very much.

“Perhaps,” Isra pauses, smiles and tries to make it look less cruel, less like something born from that blooming darkness. She tries to remember how much she once hated all the stories of war and tragic endings. Oh but she fails and even the flash of amusement in her eyes does little to hide how dangerous Isra craves to be. “Perhaps they will call me the Wrath of the Moon.”

And she can't help but think that fury feels so much better than sadness and despair.


@Noctiilucent

[Noctiilucent]

She leans into each touch Isra offers her, though the collision of their skin is absent of warmth. Her tears vanish beneath the gentle, bitter touch of her queen. There is a silence between them, almost as deep as the fury that has buried itself deep inside. When her voice drifts away like the receding tides, it is only then that Isra speaks. Isra promises the gilded maiden safety. She feels the rot and fury creeping up. Protection, for her, would only come upon the heels of fire and ash. Instead, she wants to trade ash for sin, and skin for bone. It comes tightly wound in the cloak that belongs to death. It comes only when her sister breathes no more. Shock trickles through her veins as her Queen speaks again. The maiden of ash wonders if the house has as many worlds in its wall as she did. This gracious gift is one she will forever cherish. "But will the moon love me as fiercely as the Sun? Will she look upon me as her own child? Or shall I live in her shadow, as she was forced to live in the shadow of the selfish Sun?" Noctii breathes to Isra, her doubts spill from her lips like ash. Her words are stained with the rot of corruption that has taken her identity hostage. "I don’t even know where to begin thanking you. I have little to offer you, though my admiration for you, in all your bitter reveries and wise words, will not cease. You have my ceaseless loyalty, for this is all that I can offer to you. I will have to return to you soon, for I also have a gift for you. It is another memory from my wild youth, for I robbed the temples of their gods, and I have taken something symbolically precious."
 
Noctii is not proud, but there is still the fanfare of triumph hidden in her words. When Isra addresses the gods of Reth as hers, she shakes her head with a bitter laugh. Her laugh comes as cold as a clear winter night. As bitter as the promise that Isra makes to show them how cold the ire of the moon could be. "No, they are not my gods. They have been dead long before I came here, and they will remain in the ash and rot of their wrath and sins. Or I will bury them beneath my own rot and sin. We can show them how cold, and vicious a bite she has. They will know the cold fury that burns in my heart. Efphion is no sister of mine, and she will come. But she will find nothing for her here." Her words bled from the ink of her soul, and the true beast she was surfaced. Gone were her chains of sadness, exchanged for a gilded sword made of ire. It was made of the promises they made. It was forged before the audience that Isra had called. It was the dawn of a new era for the one who remained as the leftovers of the Sun’s fury.
 
The fury that was saved for her selfish, violent Sister. No, for the one who wore the disguise of a sister. What a bitter end for the former daughter of the Sun, now she was the daughter of Night. She will find favor with Caligo, just as she has found love for her Queen. Isra’s fury is cold when she next speaks. Her musing in title, the Wrath of the Moon. The smile she gives is not one that is absent of fury, but Noctii is still a wild and furious weapon. For too long she has wept and bled for the loss of her home. There is no more grief for her here, not with Isra’s blessing and friendship. "Perhaps, you will be the cold blade that strikes in the night. Wise, furious, and unforgiving. No, I don’t think you will just be the Wrath of the Moon, but the Blade of the Moon. Someone who is both beautiful, and dangerous. Someone who will teach this world just what fury really is. Not just someone, but you, Isra. Think of what the moon and the ashes can accomplish. We’ll bring this world to its knees, and they will weep and beg for mercy. This too I promise." Her own fury and resentment swims, but it is not for Isra. No, for she feels only a deep love for her Queen. "To dust and ashes with our enemies.”




 "Speech" Thoughts

Notes: Sorry for the novel! If you'd like for Isra to know about Reth I'm 100% on board with that <3
Tags: @Isra /Open

And I thought

Maybe we could save ourselves

[Isra]

Isra who could be cruel 

“I am the flail of god. Had you not created great sins, god would not have sent a punishment like me upon you.”


There is still that spark in her, licking at her teeth, that makes each place on Noctiilucent darker than the last. Her eyes see only night in the small spaces between them. Moonlight is there too, pooling through the windows and catching on their horns as if they are dream-catchers instead of bone. Isra wonders what dreams might linger there, in the cracks in their horns, and what stories that sharp tip of bone might whisper.

Isra wonders if her horn would tell stories of the sea. She wonders if it has seen god when she was drowning, drowning, dying.

Later she will wonder if it's the way her eyes snag on night and blackness more than moon-light that made her voice fierce as a whippoorwill in a storm. Or maybe it's the way Fable's roar rings and rings in her ears like a church-bell in a battlefield. “Of course the moon will love you.” And silently she adds, when she touches their shoulders together, forgive me, tonight I have forgotten how to be gentle.

“I don't think the moon was forced to hide at all. She has the stars in her sky. What does the sun have in his but empty space? Someday, I'll tell you the story of the moon.” Isra offers this as a olive branch and her touch is gentle as dove feathers as she stars to pull away. “You owe me nothing, your friendship is enough.” She smiles but it looks a little too bright when she takes that name Efphion and etches in her heart along with Raum.

Outisde Fable buries those names into the sea-foam and brine of his blood. He will not forget either. Dragons, like unicorns, forget nothing (both their love and their hate is eternal).

She's close to the door now and the path she's walked is bright and clean around her. With her she takes as much dust and decay as possible so that there is a little less left in the world around her. And just before she's about to fade back into the night with her dragon, she turns back to Noctiilucent and there is a war in her eyes.

“I only want the monsters of this world to fall to their knees, only those with hate in their heart and nothing else. But for those beasts of the world we will be moon-fire.” There is no forgiveness in her gaze now, only love for her friend and a little bit of trepidation for this fury pulling her under.

She does not know how to be cruel, but she's learning. Oh she's learning.



@Noctiilucent