I imagine death so much
it feels more like a memory
Something is wrong. It hangs heavy in the air, oppressive and unrelenting. Kratos doesn’t know the cause of it, but as he traversed through this strange, new, foreign land, he knows that time reveals all. He’s a patient creature, but he is not content with the unknown.
The mountaintops are a treacherous place to traverse when the sun has fallen beyond the horizon and only a sliver of the moon remains to guide the way. Every step is taken with a dose of caution, every winding path carefully inspected as the pair gradually descended, but never did they falter with fear. Where he was going or even where he currently was could be anyone’s guess, and as far as he was concerned, he didn’t necessarily care so long as they made it there soon. The wind was bitter and numbing as they carried on through the night, but with seemingly each step that carried them further south, the more eager Pryna grew and the more powerful the inexplicable pull became. The feeling itself was bizarre and unlike anything he could remember feeling, yet somehow, it felt wretchedly familiar – and that was perhaps what kept him moving through the night more than anything.
“How much further?” The nebulous man asked aloud, ears twisting and laying closer to the crest of his neck as another gust blasted against his side, tousling his mane from one side to another in a wild mess that was sure to be fixed as soon as was possible. Until then, he would just be thankful that Pryna was the only witness to his disheveled state.
Flitting about in the blustering winds, Pryna was noticeably struggling to maintain her position as the wind continued to pick up. She was a resilient little thing, though, and with only minor difficulty did she turn around and make it back to Kratos, finding purchase on one of his curling, twisted horns. ”Maybe a couple more hours,” she proffered, ”But maybe not.”
His features creased, mostly from the harrowing breeze but partially over his companion’s unhelpful statement. “Maybe?” He repeated, scoffing softly and resisting the urge to roll his eyes. The dragon wouldn’t see it, but he knew she’d know he had done it anyway. “We can’t even be sure there’s anything beyond these mountains. What makes you so certain there is?”
Settling down closer against her bonded to ward off the chill, Pryna wrapped her tail about his horn. “Because,” she stated matter-of-factly, “I can feel it. We’re meant to be here.”
The stars were close enough to touch, here on the mountain where the sky met the earth. It was here that Azrael first came to the Night Court, traveling with the other shed-stars in a caravan from Caligo’s highest peaks. He’d come at night – a night much like this one, with stardust dotting the sky and dappled clouds pushing lazily across a sickle moon. His turquoise eyes had sought the stars, as they do now, counting them as old friends and reciting the constellations in his mind, as he had a hundred times before. Aquarius. Andromeda. Lacerta. As their names sting his lips, he smiles and remembers that night, the night when the autumn moon had shown him the way.
Tonight – it shows him another path.
He is adept in the darkness, a soft green glow emitting from his body, echoed in the talisman at his breast. There is an ethereal look to him, something otherworldly, something wild and untouched. As he moved upward toward the heavens, his step is light and careful, feet falling in a way that suggests he knows the way (though he had never been this far before) – and Azrael presses onward, driven toward the strange temple in the mount without any true awareness of the why or what.
He nears Kratos and the dragon, not immediately hearing or seeing them, not knowing that they sought the same prize along their journey. Perhaps the only thing which would signal him to the presence of another is the quiet beating of Pryna’s wings, but that too he does not hear. Instead, he simply presses forward with the stars lighting his path, drawn forth like a puppet on a string that led him straight to Kratos – straight to the mountaintop and to the temple it hid behind a veil of trees.
Only when he is nearly upon the dark stallion does he finally take notice, seafoam eyes falling on the stranger as he stands like an aurora in the stillness of night. For a moment, Azrael is silent, taking in the sight of Kratos’ curved horns and winged companion – but he does not blink in a way that suggests he is phased by the strange pairing. Instead, the shed-star simply offers a nod, and a quiet voice that sounds with old world elegance. Do you also seek what lies beyond the shadow of stars?
I imagine death so much
it feels more like a memory
Pryna was the first to notice that they were not alone. The crunch of snow behind them wasn’t what tipped her off to the approach of the unfamiliar stallion, but rather a cursory glance over her shoulder. The gentle green glow was unsettling to see when one considered their location, and when it only continued to draw closer, a soft, rumbling growl permeated the air just loud enough for Kratos to hear.
Craning his neck in a way that caused his mane to whip out of his eyes and give him a clearer view, the man of nebulous hues tipped his ears backward to signal his wariness. Nothing about the approaching stallion was outright unsettling aside from his sudden appearance, seeming to materialize from the darkness behind them. How long had he been trailing along behind them, just out of view and beyond their field of perception? Kratos was cautious, Pryna even more so, but the young stallion’s features harbored no fear.
Turning to face the stranger and ever mindful the location of the ledge, Kratos strained to get a better look at him. The stars are not kind to them this night, sheltered behind a blanket of patchy clouds that effectively obscure the moon at most times. The tender green glow of the amulet hanging from his neck was more helpful than anything, yet still it was difficult to discern his features in quality. By now Pryna had quieted, gazing through cautious but curious eyes from atop her companion’s horn.
“I wish to get off of this mountain,” he replied at last, honest, simple and to the point, “Though I do not know what lies beyond them. My friend seems confident that we’re near something, however.” He quirked a brow then, gesturing with a minute turn of his head back the way he had been going. “Do you know if that’s true?”
The shed-star laughs, his voice warm and inviting like a banked fire on a cold winter’s night. There is a twinkle in his eye as he watches the horned stranger and his dragon companion, considering Kratos’ question a valid reason to stop his climb toward the summit, drawn in by more than a mild curiosity. That depends on where you wish to go, I suppose. Down the mountain you will find Caligo’s court… but up… up the mountain is nothing but stardust and mystery.
Long ago, Azrael had come from the mountains, or rather, from what lie beyond them. Drawn by some inexplicable force, he and the others had made their way to this place in a large caravan. Kissed by the heavens and blessed by Caligo herself, the shed-stars both delighted and entranced, with starshine upon them and hints of the night sky painted along their backs. As they had come to the Night Court, they had scattered, most of them of a personality that marked them as a loner. Azrael was different though. He missed the company of others, drawn toward the herd with a curious heart and a yearning to know all there was to know. Hence, his own journey toward the strange temple in the clouds.
It had been hidden for some time, according to legend, thought lost to the wilds of Denocte. Thought he didn’t know the purposes of such a structure, he had seen it hinting in the sunlight in his wanderings, showing as the leaves from autumn fell and the thick foliage exposed the once-grand halls to civilization once more. If you truly wish to get off the mountain, you can follow the path I forged… for down is where I came from. But should you wish to join me, there is something much more interesting above. Curious to see? Stepping past them, he offered a smile once more, stepping toward the temple while flicking a single glance back to see if Kratos would follow or descend.
I imagine death so much
it feels more like a memory
While stardust and mystery wasn’t entirely out of the realm of Krato’s desires, it wasn’t terribly high on his list of priorities at this moment in time. No – he wanted to be someone warm and out of the wind, somewhere he could stop and figure out the next step in his uncertain journey, the next move Felume had written in his unending destiny. He wasn’t sure who Calligo was, but if they had a court somewhere down the mountain, then that sounded like as good a place to head than any.
But, if he were understanding this stranger of soft dapples and ethereal blue, the way there was back the way he had just come from. His ears tipped back in the slightest sign of annoyance, not aimed at the other man himself but rather the situation as a whole. Felume would not let him fall so easily, but what if the path going back down was not as easy as it had been coming up? He heaved a breath of disdain, and he swore he could feel Pryna inch slowly backward as though he might not notice.
Casting his cerulean gaze back to the elder stallion, Kratos gave a shake of his head, and Pryna looked apologetically toward Azrael from her perch. “Sorry, friend, but perhaps another time. I have some things I need to attend to before anything else.” Beneath him, his feet stirred with the intention to head on down the mountain without so much as another word, but Kratos stopped himself before it was too late. “… Wait. Before I go – who is Calligo? Is the court known to be hostile toward outsiders?”
If Azrael was impatient at being delayed in his quest, he did not show it. Instead, there is a patience about him that hints at a wisdom far beyond his years. The borealis stallion is far from bothered by the questions, instead, he takes delight in the opportunity to speak praises of his goddess and court. Though he hadn’t been in Denocte long, Azrael was descended from a long lineage of Caligo’s followers, so it was only natural that he would follow their caravan across the mountains and into her kingdom.
It was a pity that the man hadn’t time for the stars, but Azrael would not hold it against him, and rather than chastise him for making the wrong decision, the shed star simply nodded stoically to the stranger. With the final question came a tip of a smile to his lips, and the dappled stallion thought carefully of what words he would use to describe their goddess. Caligo is mother of the night sky – it is said she is born from the stars themselves, and she is the deity whom all of Denocte worships. It was, perhaps, the simplest way he could answer the query.
You have come at something of a tempestuous time for our Court, but Denocte is a haven to any who seek asylum. You will be welcome at the Night Court, so long as you have not come to bring destruction in your wake. There had been too much of such things lately, but Azrael did not dwell on what had come to pass. Instead, he leaves the warning as more of a cautionary tale. Turning to continue upwards toward the heavens, he looks back only once, offering the stranger a parting goodbye. I am called Azrael, should we meet again.
And he leaves Kratos and his dragon to their journey, pressing upward toward the stars once more.
I imagine death so much
it feels more like a memory
All of Denocte paid tribute to a single God? It was an odd concept, at least for him, who had grown up in a community where everyone freely worshipped whoever they wanted. If he were to become a resident of Denocte, then let him be the odd one out. His allegiance would always lay with that of Felume, and there wasn’t a thing in the world that would ever cause his loyalty to waver. At least he wouldn’t have to worry about the threat of being chased out, if everything this man was claiming was true.
Azrael, as he had just called himself, turned as soon as the warning rolled off his tongue. Kratos hummed thoughtfully to himself, eyes lingering on the man for just a little while longer before he, too, turned to continue further down the path to the so-called safe haven that Denocte apparently was. “I never do on purpose,” was his only response as he moved on, ignoring the swat of Pryna’s tail against his cheek in clear disapproval of what she’d perceived as rude behavior from him.
