She remembered the night that her mother had come to say goodbye. Little had she known, it would be the beginning of her life -- nearly five years after her first breath. Azaiel had been as resplendent as she had always heard, a golden coat as warm as the sun. Her hair had been pale and long, falling into a pair of sad green eyes that mirrored her own. It never occurred to Inara that her mother might have been as trapped as she was.
The red roan mare lingered near the cliff edges, a breeze from the crashing waves below bellowing up to ruffle the dark auburn strands of her hair. She could not see the waves below, save for the gleams of light catching the water further out to sea under the moonlight. She was rooted to a single place, her crown twisted upward to the skies like a flower searching for the sunlight. Her gaze traced the tiny specks of cosmos, searching for familiarity amongst the constellations. She had often stared up at the skies, counting the stars as her only friends in the prison that had been her home.
She was always kept close to the center, a pair of mares serving as guards and keeping the world away from her; and her away from the world. Soon enough, no one tried to see her -- and she had no one to see, including her mother. She had merely been a child then, learning quickly what her place had been in her father’s world. A bargaining chip, a transferable good. Her weight shifted upon the rocks of the cliffs, scattering pebbles down to the watery depths below; drawing her back to the warm spring night.
She was quite close to the edge, knowing that one wrong move would send her plummeting down without feathered wings to save her -- but choosing to face the danger. For some reason it made her feel...alive. Her head was clear, and her stammering, nervous nature forgotten. She toyed with the muscles along her hind, knowing that one solid movement of them would send her flying out into the open, dark space. She could see it clearly in her mind’s eye, before reality snapped into place and she watched as she fell into the unforgiving waves, her body crushed against the cliffside.
The image forced her to step back, her ears pinned flat against her head as shook it; snorting loudly. Why would she imagine a horrible fate like that, when her life was finally beginning? Her soft green gaze wandered back to the sky, to the stars.
06-10-2017, 04:17 PM
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Jeanne [PM] Posts: 399 — Threads: 81 Signos: 100
There was something tranquil to the Dusk Court, something implacably quiet even when standing upon the crags overlooking the roaring sea – at night, she was especially careful to watch her step, though Seraphina had little fear of falling. (Perhaps it was more accurate to say that she had little fear of dying. Apathy, she’d learned, would do that to you. It crept into your bones and your heart and your soul before you even realized that it was upon you, and by the time that you realized it was there, you were too far gone. Impassive, distant, listless and dead behind the eyes; she was the law, she lived for the law, she lived for the law. But the law would live on without her. Would she live on without the law?) Starlight cast desaturated silver dappling across the shaggy grasses that were persistent enough to grow on the edge of the cliffs. She had been here before during the day, and the difference in hue was striking – vibrant green grew dull and ethereal in the grasp of the stars, little more than velveteen, salt-soaked remnants of daylight splendor. Seraphina, for her part, wandered the crags like some passing apparition, monochromatic coat ghostly beneath the stars.
She’d decided that her search for the relic would resume in the morning; tonight she would wander in what little comfort solitude provided, parse the landscape for a bit. Or so Seraphina had imagined – she had not been wandering long when her gaze caught on another mare. She stood so close to the edge that Seraphina wondered if she intended to jump off, then, abruptly, stumbled back as though she had been stung. She was a creature of reds and whites, hint of dark chocolate here and there, and elegant and solid in build. (Likely a radiant creature in the morning light, Seraphina decided. She could practically see the auburn of her hair caught in the first rays of dawn. It would gleam like fire.) Though she imagined that the mare had some fight in her, the disarray in her stance made Seraphina doubt that she was a threat, at least for the moment. The mare turned her gaze to the star-filled sky above, and Seraphina found herself following – she’d used stars to guide her way many a time in the desert, given its lack of distinguishing landmark. Shaking her head, she returned her gaze to the mare, and, keeping her distance so as not to startle her, offered a cool, “Greetings.”
@Inara
I'M IN A ROOM MADE OUT OF MIRRORSand there's no way to escape the violence of a girl against herself.☼please tag Sera! contact is encouraged, short of violence
Still, still I searched for the mysterious relic. What is a relic anyway? Some might say it is any old object from a previous time that has historic or sentimental interest. Some day it is the remains of some dead guy. So am I looking for like... a scaly egg? Or some dead guy's femur? A small, SO SMALL, grin spreads across my maw at the thought of finding a femur or tibia and carrying it back like a dog with his most prized possession. If only Damaris were here to see it... A sigh passes my lips, erasing the grin from my chapped lips. Damaris... where are you? Would I ever see my beloved companion again?
My head droops visibly at the thought and I meander south, searching for the southernmost part of the land to work my way back up and around. Eventually I figure I will reach some sort of geographical barrier that marked the edges of the realm. My tail tucked between my legs, I walk in silence, ignoring the chittering of small creatures around me. It's better if we ignore each other rather than fighting over who gets which acorn. I grunted in response to the breeze that picked up around me, lifting my mane and forelock and bringing a little more life to my recalcitrant muscles.
Not paying attention is going to get me in trouble - big trouble. For a clatter makes me glance at my hooves in surprise as rocks escape from beneath me off the cliff directly in front. Oh mother of.. SHIT. I jump back from the edge, tossing my head in the air as if the edge had leapt up at me in attack. I snap my teeth in irritation and turn to walk a safe distant along the edge. No use throwing myself off - not when there's hope that Damaris may be alive.
I'd love to say that I'm paying tons of attention, eyes searching continuously for this dead guy's leg.. but I'm not. At least, not very hard. But soon a voice gets my attention, and I walk in the direction of the noise, curious as to whom else might be up here on this ledge. Two others -- a roan painted thing and a silvery dame -- stood ahead of me. I've come too late to see anything interesting or hear any of their exchange. It's a chance to get in on the action, and I hope that I haven't come too late. "Ladies." The tiniest dip of my brow, moving on instinct rather than genuine respect. My brain isn't working well enough to do that. "How are you this evening?" For evening it was, though I had barely noticed as I ambled around. So much traveling, so much wandering and wondering with lost thoughts that tangle my mind and my heart. Please distract me gals!
Her gaze traced the constellations that she was unfamiliar with, as it seemed that Novus and the Dusk Court were completely different from her home. A quiet voice shook the mare from her thoughts, the slight despair that she was confronted with any time that she thought of home. The painted mare found that she was not alone in the slightest, as she beheld another mare. The hue of her coat was much cooler, blending better with the night air save for the glinting metal around her nape. Inara glanced back at the cliff edges and took a few more paces away, just to settle any worry that the other might hold.
“Greetings.” She returned in kind, her voice hardly above a whisper. “How f-fare thee t-this night?” She stammered, cursing internally at the quaver in her tone. Gods forbid she sound like anything but a frightened child! The lush green of her gaze met the startling contrast of blue and yellow, set in a dark face with a shock of pale hair. If she had been the type to deem things beautiful, she thought that this mare would have been quite so. She wondered idly, what daylight would have brought a mare like this...but the night complimented her so well. Inara was about to open her mouth to speak again, when another stumbled upon them, a thick male bustling in to join them.
Inara knew that she was openly staring, her eyes wide with wonder at the creature before her. He was unlike anything that she had seen before -- in her homeland the equines were quite plain, and found herself cautiously putting her head forward in order to have a better look at the horns that spiraled up out of his crown and along his face. Not to mention the thing whip of a tail. Oh the wonders of the world! She wondered if her mother had known such things, but surely she would have imparted that wisdom upon her only spawn before thrusting her out into it, guarded or not.
The female glanced at the other mare, seeking camaraderie from another of her own sex. Girls had to stick together, did they not? Her ears flickered back at the strangers, feeling a fluster begin to flutter in her chest. Panic was not what she needed, but it was all that she had to offer. Her nostrils flared wide, drawing in the scents around them -- determining that no others were about at that particular moment.
“I am well, s-s-stranger.” She managed, before glancing at the female who had been here first. “A-are the t-two of y-you in D-d-dusk Court?” She asked, pinning her ears back at the sound of her stuttering. Perhaps if she ever found that relic, that was what she would ask for...the gift of speech.
The fire-haired girl responded in a stumbling whisper that was scarcely audible above the crash of the waves and the gentle brush of night breeze; she’d stepped back from the edge almost self-consciously, great green eyes flittering across Seraphina in a panic that felt as stuttering as her voice. It seemed that the little mare was asking her how she was, from what she could make out of her soft voice. Seraphina wasn’t consciously concerned for the girl, but she had the distinct impression that, considering her proximity to the cliff’s edge, she should be the one asking her that. (How would she even go about it, though? “Were you thinking about jumping?” They were perfect strangers. Did she even care?) She fixed her with a stare that, while distinctly nonthreatening, was every bit as chilly as ever. “…I am fine,” was Seraphina’s quiet response, tones measured. “Are you?”
The mare had her mouth opened to say something else, but, before she could, a bulky stallion came bumbling into their field of view; he was shorter than Seraphina, but larger and more muscular, and laced with scars that gave her the distinct impression that he was a warrior, and, therefore, a threat. He was a mesh of copper tones, darkening down the legs, flecked with speckles of white; a leonine tail lashed behind him, and a pair of rather nasty looking horns on his skull, with a smaller spike near its center – they looked as though they could do some damage. His eyes caught her attention, though her own mismatched set barely lingered on his silver gaze, so distracted was she by the potential threat that he embodied. He greeted them rather loudly; she might have interpreted his gaze as slightly flirtatious, were she better at examining social signals. As it were, she offered a glance to the other mare, who seemed to be shrinking away. Seraphina edged to position herself just in front of the other mare, effectively putting herself into the position to shield her should things go south. It wasn’t exactly concern that motivated her – it was clear that only one of them was a warrior. “I’m fine,” She replied coolly; the other mare offered the same answer, then ventured to ask if they happened to be denizens of the Dawn Court. Seraphina offered a quick shake of her charcoal head, gaze returning to the other mare. “I am not – my travels have simply brought me here,” She said, eyes occasionally flitting to keep a stubborn, professional eye on the stallion. “I am Seraphina, warrior of the Day Court. Who are you?” It seemed the little mare was of the Dawn Court, and, for all she knew, the stallion could be as well – she glanced back at him to punctuate her statement, implying that her question was directed at the both of them.
@Inara @Rostislav - sorry this took so long; I've been really busy x.x
I'M IN A ROOM MADE OUT OF MIRRORSand there's no way to escape the violence of a girl against herself.☼please tag Sera! contact is encouraged, short of violence
It's clear that I've interrupted, but I don't much care. Happens all the time, doesn't it? The roan mare seems more fragile, and I wonder if it is a stutter that she has in all conversations or if she's just that nervous in front of strangers (for her words tell me she doesn't not know the silvery dame either). I cock my head, waiting for her to snap out of it, but she doesn't. Instead the other, bolder mare steps forward, her position protective of the stuttering one. She seems not intimidated by me (which is fine, I'm not here to intimidate). Instead she's defensive, maybe a little snarly even! Her speech is soft to the unnamed one, but Seraphina - as she introduces herself as - takes the offensive when it comes to me. I let a soft smile slip on to my face, remaining (intentionally or unintentionally) an open book. Why does it matter to me to keep this friendly and relaxed? Does it? I don't know. One of those unexplainable things, I suppose. "Seraphina, warrior of the Day Court." He repeats her words, nodding respectfully. "I am Rostislav, and I suppose I do not have any sort of home yet. I'm still exploring this land." Of course I mean all of Novus, not just Terrastella. "However, I am a warrior like yourself."
Again - does it matter? This Seraphina does not seem to take kindly to me, and I wonder if she plans to start something right here, right now. For the sake of my tired mind and legs, I hope she doesn't. As pointy as my head might be, I mean no harm. I look past her at the roan. The poor thing must be quite frightened by two WARRIORS (since that's like, a thing right now) who are all tough and gruff and posturing. My next words are directed toward her. "You do not seem like a warrior, which of course is fine. I'm guessing you ARE from the Dawn Court?"
