STRANGENESS AND CHARM After the Court meeting, Corrdelia felt hollow inside. She had gotten to know Asterion better than Florentine or Lysander, but Terrastella still felt lonely without the three. The lingering emotions from her Court still clung to her. It's a mix of sadness, anxiety and some frustration, like the stages of grief in their own way. It makes her feel everything at once and it's a bit overwhelming.
Back at her home afterwards, she had sat down and started to craft. Hāsta looked on at her curiously as she wove some string and wire, wrapping stones and feathers together into a necklace. It almost resembled her own, but with different stones and no skulls. This necklace had a different purpose and would not be for her. In the end it still looked fairly crude as she wasn't the best at this type of work, but the thought would still count.
She carries this necklace with her today as she makes her way back towards the Court keep with Hāsta flying overhead. Corr has a good feeling about it and being able to find Marisol somewhere here. The woman is bringing the necklace as a small gift since it's the least she can do to try and help. As much as she wishes her magic was stronger, it doesn't quite have the capability of changing someone's emotions just yet. She's still working on that, so for now, gifts are all she knows.
When she makes her way toward the citadel, she can see the cliffs in the background, reminding her just how beautiful this land is. The sun continues to shine down, still in its strange not-setting state. It certainly makes the summer even stronger with the bright light and heat, so she left her cloak at home to keep cool. Thankfully, there is decent shade inside and the stone walls provide a sense of coolness.
As Corr suspected, she sees the figure of Marisol a little further down at a window. She does not know the woman too well yet, but perhaps this will be a good a time as any.
"Marisol," she calls, trotting over to the newly appointed Sovereign. The gift necklace hangs around her neck over her own and the stones make a clacking noise while she moves. Hāsta perches above them on a light post, deciding not to be very involved.
"How are you doing, dear?" she asks and offers a warm smile to the other mare. Corr figures she'd check on her first before giving her a gift in case it turns out not to be an appropriate time. Either way she hopes the woman isn't feeling too overwhelmed today.
Marisol’s heart still beats, but it feels… pointless. Empty.
As if something deep inside of it has gone missing.
She had held in her crying until she made it to the barracks, and thank Vespera for that; what kind of start would that be, bursting into stupid tears in front of the entire court at once? Her head is cloudy with grief. Filled to the ears with cotton. And the day goes on, one lonely hour at a time, and Mari realizes with a start there is not much more time to waste.
With the sun high in the sky, she crawls out of her office. The sky is too-bright outside and the air too-hot. But she rolls the kinks out of her shoulders and blinks the salt-crust from her eyes, and at a determined trot sets off down the street, passed the buildings with their shuttered windows, through the streets that are heavy with sun. People are quiet. The whole city is, really. She can’t blame them. If staying in to sulk were an option for her, she would surely be doing the same.
There is work to be done, though. Forms to be filed. Councilmen (women) to be picked. She pores over Asterion’s writings and the census of the Court, running the names over her head and across her tongue. Trying to think: who goes where? Which ones am I supposed to trust?
There is a sound of clattering, rocks and hooves. Mari looks up with wide eyes, muscles a little tense, but at the sight of Corrdelia she visibly relaxes, a ghost of a smile on her face. Something trying to be happy. “Corrdelia. It’s a pleasure to see you.” Her voice is a little awkward from disuse, but the warmth inside it is genuine. She beckons the mare forward with a nod of her head. “I’m—fine. As well as can be expected.”
Which is to say, not all too well, but she’s sure Corrdelia knows that. “And how are you? Alright enough, I hope.”
There is no good, she knows, not here, not now. Not for anyone who knows or loves Terrastella. But eventually there will be. Must be.
STRANGENESS AND CHARM As Corr approaches the woman, she notices the mess of papers in front of her and looks on curiously. She hadn't spent much time with Asterion to know the ins and outs of the sovereign role, but she can imagine it's a lot of work. The mare claims she's fine, but Corr can feel the waves of tension coming from her. Hopefully being around the crow witch will help ease that anxiety.
She didn't know Asterion as well as others, but it still feels like a piece of her heart is missing. Really, it feels like a piece of Terrastella itself is missing. With Florentine and Lysander gone as well, it seems much emptier. They were all a light in their own way. She knows this Court has been through a lot and is sure that they will be able to stay strong.
"Hanging in there," Corr replies honestly, glancing at her companion above. "At least I have Hāsta to keep me on the edge of my hooves."
This seems as good of a time as any, so she takes the necklace off her neck and holds it out to Marisol. "I made you this as a good luck charm. It's got malachite and black tourmaline crystals. I'm not sure if you're familiar with the properties of crystals but they all have their own 'uses' if you will. Black tourmaline is good for warding off negative energy and is very grounding, while malachite boosts strength and willpower. I thought this pairing might be helpful for you in your new role," Corr explains, hoping her new queen will appreciate the gift. "I figured if you're not into wearing jewelry, you could simply have it as a wall hanging."
The mare looks at her crafted piece and the way the light shines off the brilliant green of the malachite. Making these necklaces brings her back to her family in Astreas and learning about all the different stones. Her own necklace holds several pieces of amethyst and clear quartz, her go-to crystals. They are special to her and she wanted to share a part of that with Marisol. It seems like the least she could do.
"But I also came to offer my help. I know I said it at the meeting, but please, let me know if there's anything you need. Even if it's just a nice cup of tea," she adds, laughing. Besides her crafts, Corrdelia prides herself in her tea blends.
Mari looks up when the sound of wings comes to a stop. Hovering against the backdrop of frescoes on the ceiling is a bird she vaguely recognizes but has never realized is more than a visitor. Hasta. Her wings are inky blue-black, and so is the shine of her eyes; Marisol wonders what god might’ve chosen her out of billions of birds, or how anyone is supposed to know which one is which.
I made you this.
The sovereign’s eyes widen in grateful surprise. The heavy necklace that Corrdelia holds out toward her is studded with glinting pieces of smooth green stone and ridged points of black crystal, and it’s pretty in a way that Marisol has never really appreciate until this moment. The way of the Ilati, or more simply the way of seeing and believing. Mari’s eyes shine as she reaches for it. (She’s never worn a piece of jewelry in her life, but Corrdelia doesn’t have to know that.)
“Thank you, Corrdelia. I love it.” With an uncharacteristically wide beam, she slips the necklace over her head. The weight of it falling against her chest seems to bring her back to earth. Suddenly the tension in her muscles falls a little bit away, and she ducks her head to touch the cool stone with a brush of the soft skin on her muzzle. “And thank you for your help. Unfortunately, I…”
Her voice fades for a second, and the expression on her face cools from its smile. “I think most of this is my duty. Although—“ Marisol’s eyes brighten as she looks up. “Perhaps you’d like to help organize their vigil? I’m not the most experienced hostess.” Again she flashes a sheepish smile and tries to turn her mind to better things by shuffling the papers out of sight.
Of course she’ll have to come back to them soon, but for now… for now her people are grieving, and their needs always come first. There will be food and drink and flowers, graves dug and candles lit, and they can grieve—should grieve—without bearing the burden that Marisol is supposed be shouldering.
STRANGENESS AND CHARM Corrdelia watches the way Marisol's face lights up and it warms her heart. The woman puts the necklace on right away and Corr can't help but feel proud of her handiwork. There had been a wave of muddled emotion in the air that she sensed with her magic, but the moment the piece went over Marisol's head, the emotions settled. It was clear the right stones had been chosen.
The woman thanks her with a smile, but as she continues speaking, it fades. The stress of being newly sovereign is noticeable in her demeanor and paper shuffling. Corr listens patiently and offers a smile back. Said smile gets even bigger when she's asked to help organize the vigil. It had been suggested by Fiona during the meeting to do something for the three they had lost. It would be a great idea and could bring the Court together.
"Of course! I would love to," she replies excitedly. "Perhaps Fiona and I can both put it together since she had thought of it. I think it will be a wonderful event."
Although, as the crow witch got more into her thoughts, her own smile faded. Something still didn't seem right about their disappearance and she didn't believe that they had died. "Marisol," she says, her voice inquisitive but hesitant. "Do you know… what happened exactly? To those three, I mean, it just doesn't make sense. I had just spoken to Asterion days ago and he seemed… content."
Her mind always goes back to their brief adventure on the island and how she had gotten the man to laugh at her carefree attitude. Perhaps the island had been more dangerous than they thought. Had it swallowed them whole like it did for the other unfortunate souls? Had a strange creature gotten at them? They had talked about portals that day too; it seems there were many possibilities.
"I believe they're still alive. Somewhere," Corrdelia adds and turns to look out the window. They had to be okay. It was something in her gut telling her so (or maybe she's trying to tell herself that so it doesn't hurt so much).
For all the world’s pains, for all the ways it bites and burns, there is still good left. Beautiful sunsets and kind-hearted people. So often Marisol forgets that, while she’s in her haze of duty, or distracted by her dedication to the arts of war; so often the only thing on her mind is how to stop what has already started to unravel, and not what beauty might be entangled with the disaster.
Corrdelia is a reminder of that—to slow down, to look with clear eyes. There is no pain, she makes an effort to remind herself, without some pleasure to offset it. Some kindly god-smile. Believe, believe. “Thank you,” Marisol says again, both for the comforting weight of the necklace against her chest and the offer to assist with their vigil.
Then she asks what happened, and all the comfort seeps out of her, replaced by a prickly, nauseating wave of pure cold.
“You might be right. I—well, I hope you’re right. For everyone’s sakes.” Her mouth twists into a trembling line, harden by the effort it takes not to cry. Every inch of her dark skin feels hot enough to melt right off. “But I don’t know. Truly. The last I’d heard they were all on the island, and then something… I don’t know. Destroyed them. Took them.”
The words stick in her throat like a bad sore. They hurt to hear, and even Mari’s ears are flickering as she speaks, as if she’s trying subconsciously not to hear. But there’s no unknowing. Not now, not ever. There is just life and what to do with it, responsibility and how to handle it, and right now the most pressing issue is the one closest in time.
“So.” Mari heavy-clears her throat. “Tell me. What are you thinking, for this vigil? I’ll help however I can.” Corrdelia must know this kind of thing has never been her strong suit; it must be obvious in the harsh, straight way she stands and the clean, unsympathetic crop of her mane. But there’s always things to be done and efforts to be made. And now, more than ever, memories to be honored.
STRANGENESS AND CHARM Suddenly, there is a wave of emotions. At first, it’s like the clouds have opened to a soft rain. Then it becomes heavier and heavier like a strong downpour. It turns into the rushing current of a river that pushes Corr aside for a moment. Her sense of calm dissipates and she is left sharing what she believes to be Marisol’s pain. Corr regrets bringing up the subject; she didn’t realize it hurt so much. Her eyes well up and a single tear runs down her cheek as she listens to the woman speak.
"The island…" she begins to say, but trails off into her thoughts. It had been such a strange place of what she believed to be magic and wonder, but it had its demons too. There were rumors of holes opening up in the ground and swallowing horses whole, but she had dismissed them for poppycock. Perhaps they hadn’t been rumors after all. Still, there is something in her gut that tells her they are not dead and still alive somewhere.
Unfortunately, that’s not the case with the island. She wants to suggest they go there and do a ritual to try and speak to the spirits of the land for guidance. Perhaps she can pick up on traces of auras left by the three, but the island is gone. It left just as it had arrived- with an earthquake and volcanic eruption. There had been nothing left but lava rock and ash and even that had been swallowed up by the sea. The most she can do is sit by the shore and hope the ocean has something to say. But, she does not have a connection with the water, not like Asterion did.
Marisol clears her throat and the subject is changed, which Corr finds herself thankful for. The Commander asks about her ideas for the vigil and the crow witch takes a moment to think. She would need to talk to Fiona to gather her thoughts, but it wouldn’t hurt to brainstorm some ideas.
"Back home with Astreas we would do funeral pyres under the stars and gather around with a great feast. It was… more of a celebration of life than mourning and helped us strengthen our bonds. We would also arrange crystal grids to the stars and set out mementos to remember them by," she begins to explain, her heart hurting as she becomes homesick. "I'd want to see what Fiona thinks, but we could do that or…" she pauses, thinking of the sea again. She did not know Florentine or Lysander very well, but Asterion had his own special magic. "It might be more appropriate to do something at the ocean. We could set up mini boats with flowers, crystals, candles, you name it, for each of them, then set them off to sail at sea. Almost like we are freeing their bodies and spirit to the sea, but in a more symbolic way." The topic does not make Corr feel any happier, but it would be good to do something in the trio’s honor. Either idea she feels would suffice.
"Maybe," she adds, "we can put a note just in case it reaches them. Or a letter. Whatever we would wish to say to them and maybe they’ll get it wherever they are." It’s a long shot, but she is always one to keep her hopes up. The world is a magical place full of so many unknowns, so there could be that small chance they were out there and would know their court missed them. If anything it could provide closer for many.
She looks to Marisol with a heavy heart and wonders what the woman’s thoughts would be to her ideas. She offers a warm smile and places her wing on her shoulder. "We’ll get through this together."
Marisol is always surprised to hear people talk of their homelands. Born and raised in Terrastella, she is prone to forgetting that the world extends beyond their shores, that over the leagues of the ocean there are places with different mountains, different languages, different gods. No Vespera. No blessed rivers, no cross-shaped clouds. She is prone to forgetting because to think about it is difficult: it is the only real promise that what they believe here might, after all, be disputable.
What do these people know that Novus doesn’t? And how can it ever be known who is right?
She tries desperately to pull her mind away from that unknown edge of the world, tries to focus on here, and now, and the words coming from Corrdelia’s mouth. Around them the citadel is dusty and quiet.Set them off to sail at sea. Marisol nods, though she can hardly focus. The sea—of course, it’s what she first thought of, too. It’s what Asterion loved and what he would have wanted. Florentine and Lysander she’s not so sure of; when Marisol thought of them she had always thought woods, flowers, deer. But now it’s too late to ask, isn’t it?
Corrdelia’s letter suggestion makes her shudder a little, though she tries to suppress it with her gritted teeth: you are fooling yourself, she aches to say, if you think they are coming back. But hadn’t she believed the same thing, just a few days ago? And hadn’t hope made her that much stronger, that much brighter? She cannot take that feeling away from her people. Not even if it’s delusional. Not even if it’s wrong. In times like these it must be better for the soul, Marisol thinks, to be wrong and happy than right and scared.
Tension has begun to build in her back and shoulders again; Mari can feel her stress regrowing as she glances around the disheveled office and thinks of all the things she has left to prepare. “That’s a lovely idea. Both, I mean, but especially the sea.” She plasters on a smile, genuine if a little strained, and when Corrdelia offers her shoulder and wing, Marisol finds herself leaning easily into the embrace, comforted by the witch’s sturdiness and warmth. She smells like home—like the prairie and the swamp, like potions and herbs. Mari closes her eyes and sighs.
“I have to get back to work,” she says finally, voice tinged by some combination of regret and disappointment that almost makes her throat hurt. “But thank you, Corrdelia, for everything. I promise I will check in soon about the vigil—if there’s anything you need, just tell me. Please.”
Mari presses her cheek to Corrdelia’s in a brief, intimate goodbye, and withholding her strained exhale begins to pick up the scattered papers again.
STRANGENESS AND CHARM A moment of tension washes over her, but as Corr attempts to comfort Marisol, it slowly fades away. Every day she is beginning to understand this magical ability of her's more and every day it slowly gets stronger. Soon she hopes she can more easily help others feel better and just happier.
For now, this will do and she feels like she's accomplished something. Even when the woman says she has to go back to work, seeing her wearing the necklace and hearing her slow exhale, she seems a little better. Corrdelia smiles as her Queen presses her cheek against hers and she closes her eyes. There is a hint of the sea in Marisol's scent, but it's mixed with Terrastella's wood and damp earth.
"Oh you're welcome, dear," she replies softly. "Don't be a stranger either. My door is always open."
With that, she leaves the Sovereign to her duties of paper shuffling and whatever it is that Sovereigns do. Hāsta moves from her perch and takes flight again by her companion's side. When the pair reach the door, Corr looks back one more time with a smile. It will be okay, they will be okay. Their Court is strong and Marisol is even stronger. Hopefully, she just doesn't feel like she has to hold it in for them. Corr hopes Marisol knows that they are all here to help each other and that she doesn't have to bottle things up so much.
Corr does not stand there much longer and finally opens the door. The two take flight and head back to their house in the swamp.
@Marisol just a quick closer <3 thank you for a lovely thread!
After the Court meeting, Corrdelia felt hollow inside. She had gotten to know Asterion better than Florentine or Lysander, but Terrastella still felt lonely without the three. The lingering emotions from her Court still clung to her. It's a mix of sadness, anxiety and some frustration, like the stages of grief in their own way. It makes her feel everything at once and it's a bit overwhelming.
![[Image: ddg6quy-9d15dab5-339c-4b09-8b57-20a99fda...jvUop12efQ]](https://images-wixmp-ed30a86b8c4ca887773594c2.wixmp.com/f/c175b84a-409b-40aa-8b86-49ed65b989ee/ddg6quy-9d15dab5-339c-4b09-8b57-20a99fda550e.png?token=eyJ0eXAiOiJKV1QiLCJhbGciOiJIUzI1NiJ9.eyJzdWIiOiJ1cm46YXBwOjdlMGQxODg5ODIyNjQzNzNhNWYwZDQxNWVhMGQyNmUwIiwiaXNzIjoidXJuOmFwcDo3ZTBkMTg4OTgyMjY0MzczYTVmMGQ0MTVlYTBkMjZlMCIsIm9iaiI6W1t7InBhdGgiOiJcL2ZcL2MxNzViODRhLTQwOWItNDBhYS04Yjg2LTQ5ZWQ2NWI5ODllZVwvZGRnNnF1eS05ZDE1ZGFiNS0zMzljLTRiMDktOGI1Ny0yMGE5OWZkYTU1MGUucG5nIn1dXSwiYXVkIjpbInVybjpzZXJ2aWNlOmZpbGUuZG93bmxvYWQiXX0.j-t9RuUsmMyaVL-O1rvZqbyyPYdOvtjHLjvUop12efQ)
