it's dark, there's no need for lights
when the fire in his eyes burns so bright
He had been at the meeting all along — swallowed by shadows in the dingiest of nooks, his eyes flicking between every speaker. They were not happy... he'd warned Aislinn and Isorath that freedom was what mattered to Denoctians and that they would not take kindly to being trapped. He felt it himself.. that tightening of his heart, the edge that suddenly appeared in every movement he made. Every word he'd uttered, every promise about freedom, every welcome to Denocte, where you can be free... All now turned to ash in his mouth, lies.
As always, his keen eyes picked up every detail — Isorath carried himself like a cold flame, his eyes sharper even perhaps than Reich's own. He looked unsurprisingly comfortable underneath the weight of fury levelled at him... him, not Aislinn. Poised despite the uncouth remarks made, the slitting of Isorath's feline eyes was the only revelation that his own fury was growing.
One by one Reichenbach felt his people damn him, each one striking his black heart blacker with their cries of YOU! YOU! YOU!
He could feel the burden of them all, the aching of their fierce hearts at being held — and he dare not say it's for the best. It had not been his choice, to close the gates.. He had been overruled by his Regime.
But he would not abandon them while so many bore down upon them, would not sneer and spit at their feet with the others of the crowd — Aislinn Stormsinger was gypsy born and bred, Denoctian born with that Rahilah blood running through her veins. The Rahilah run through your blood too, came a gentle reminder. Yet Ash had served as her tribes Maiden, their warrior, and she rarely made the rash decisions he had come to be famous for.
Isorath, too, was heralded for his diplomacy... or had been, until he had been stained black by Reichenbach's own hands. He came from a long line of rulers and had lived through Courtly politics and dramas for most of his life — his experience did not count for naught. There was so much ire, so much distrust, so much blame. All placed upon the wrong heads.
Reichenbach had vast shoulders — what more would a little extra damning hurt?
Raum's svelte voice faded from the electric air, an unhappy buzzing emanating from the crowd gathered.. his people, some of them welcomed only weeks ago.
He slipped from his nook, moving through the crowd, decorated by writhing shadows that reflected the churning turbulence within his own wary chest. This had not been his meeting to announce.. he had, quite petulantly, refused to be seen supporting it.
.. but he could not stand idly by and see his Regime torn to ribbons.
Silence fell as he made his way to the dais, muscles rolling easily underneath his dark skin. His coins jingled quietly as he found his place before the people of Denocte — their elected ruler, whom had been called many things. Brother, friend, lover, father-figure, heart-breaker, King. His long lashed gaze swept through his people, their words collected and repeating within his inky curled head.
At last, the melodic baritone they had been waiting for:
"I did not close the gates."
A hush, glances thrown this way and that.
"But — " his gaze became pointed, "I trust that our Regime — my family, has made an educated choice."
"It is well known that the fault and the blame for inter-Court discord can be laid solely upon my shoulders." If Raum hadn't been in Solterra on his orders, there would have been no incident with Bexley Briar.. and had he kept his roaming eyes settled upon honeyed skin and not porcelain and gold, there would be no conflict with Dusk. It was possible he was not good at making rational choices, and that the big decisions... like closing that Gods-damned Gate, should be left to minds more suited to politics and strategy.
"Rostislav is right — if you seek someone to blame, you may blame me. But I would pose the same question to you, WARDEN."
It was his turn to be angry now, to spit at the feet of the man who thought to throw blame when he had let down their Court various times over. When he had vanished, time and time again, when he spent most of his life drunk and disorderly, providing nothing to the Court that had offered him refuge against Maxence. He had been granted the position of Warden — for what?
"How do you think yourself fit to slander a Regime that has been here. YOU are our Warden — or have you forgotten? What have you done to further Denocte and her people, Rostislav? To throw insult at us is to reveal your own misdoings."
A deadly gleam had entered his argent eyes, a trace of disgust curling his black lip. It was easy to throw words and blame everybody else — especially the Regime. If they'd had an attentive Warden, perhaps things would have been different. If they'd had a Warden that had any input at all.
Reichenbach shook his curled head, and still came another invisible tremor as he revolted against the idea of being held. It would not be permanent — he would see to it. He'd visit each Court and make amends, if that changed things.
It likely wouldn't, but he could try.
"The closing of the Gates will not be permanent." Now he looked to Aislinn and Isorath, daring them to say otherwise. He would get written letters from each Court stating their goodwill, if that was what was required — in fact, he would open the Gates himself if he thought the danger of harm had passed. There was reason behind their choices, and care, it was easy to see despite the verbal attack being laid upon them.
He looked to Lyra, his Champion of Community — her job was about to get a whole lot harder, and a whole lot busier. He had no doubt she would be inundated with requests and questions about the Gates once their meeting had finished, and so he would seek her out later and sit with her while she was approached. For solidarity, to show his people that they were not ruled by a highly King in a golden throne, but a gypsy thief that had grown up in their streets.
"I must ask for your patience in this matter — Remember, Aislinn was born in our own forests, she has lived and grown and served in Denocte her whole life. Isorath has given all of himself to our city, to our Country, despite previous ties."
And he's getting destroyed for it up here.
"I have seen mercy, and happiness, and the undying loyalty of a people who refuse to be anything but themselves. I see passion and flame, and love for our Country. We come from different backgrounds, different lives.. sometimes different worlds — and yet we live together in harmony." A small smile cracked his black lips, "Most of the time."
"Let us do that for a while longer."
@ALL THE PEOPLE
@Isorath @Aislinn @Lavinia @Lyra @Raum @Acton @Jezana @Eidolon @Rhoswen @Isra @Rostislav
Sorry if I've missed anything important, so much to reply to!! <3
As always, his keen eyes picked up every detail — Isorath carried himself like a cold flame, his eyes sharper even perhaps than Reich's own. He looked unsurprisingly comfortable underneath the weight of fury levelled at him... him, not Aislinn. Poised despite the uncouth remarks made, the slitting of Isorath's feline eyes was the only revelation that his own fury was growing.
One by one Reichenbach felt his people damn him, each one striking his black heart blacker with their cries of YOU! YOU! YOU!
He could feel the burden of them all, the aching of their fierce hearts at being held — and he dare not say it's for the best. It had not been his choice, to close the gates.. He had been overruled by his Regime.
But he would not abandon them while so many bore down upon them, would not sneer and spit at their feet with the others of the crowd — Aislinn Stormsinger was gypsy born and bred, Denoctian born with that Rahilah blood running through her veins. The Rahilah run through your blood too, came a gentle reminder. Yet Ash had served as her tribes Maiden, their warrior, and she rarely made the rash decisions he had come to be famous for.
Isorath, too, was heralded for his diplomacy... or had been, until he had been stained black by Reichenbach's own hands. He came from a long line of rulers and had lived through Courtly politics and dramas for most of his life — his experience did not count for naught. There was so much ire, so much distrust, so much blame. All placed upon the wrong heads.
Reichenbach had vast shoulders — what more would a little extra damning hurt?
Raum's svelte voice faded from the electric air, an unhappy buzzing emanating from the crowd gathered.. his people, some of them welcomed only weeks ago.
He slipped from his nook, moving through the crowd, decorated by writhing shadows that reflected the churning turbulence within his own wary chest. This had not been his meeting to announce.. he had, quite petulantly, refused to be seen supporting it.
.. but he could not stand idly by and see his Regime torn to ribbons.
Silence fell as he made his way to the dais, muscles rolling easily underneath his dark skin. His coins jingled quietly as he found his place before the people of Denocte — their elected ruler, whom had been called many things. Brother, friend, lover, father-figure, heart-breaker, King. His long lashed gaze swept through his people, their words collected and repeating within his inky curled head.
At last, the melodic baritone they had been waiting for:
"I did not close the gates."
A hush, glances thrown this way and that.
"But — " his gaze became pointed, "I trust that our Regime — my family, has made an educated choice."
"It is well known that the fault and the blame for inter-Court discord can be laid solely upon my shoulders." If Raum hadn't been in Solterra on his orders, there would have been no incident with Bexley Briar.. and had he kept his roaming eyes settled upon honeyed skin and not porcelain and gold, there would be no conflict with Dusk. It was possible he was not good at making rational choices, and that the big decisions... like closing that Gods-damned Gate, should be left to minds more suited to politics and strategy.
"Rostislav is right — if you seek someone to blame, you may blame me. But I would pose the same question to you, WARDEN."
It was his turn to be angry now, to spit at the feet of the man who thought to throw blame when he had let down their Court various times over. When he had vanished, time and time again, when he spent most of his life drunk and disorderly, providing nothing to the Court that had offered him refuge against Maxence. He had been granted the position of Warden — for what?
"How do you think yourself fit to slander a Regime that has been here. YOU are our Warden — or have you forgotten? What have you done to further Denocte and her people, Rostislav? To throw insult at us is to reveal your own misdoings."
A deadly gleam had entered his argent eyes, a trace of disgust curling his black lip. It was easy to throw words and blame everybody else — especially the Regime. If they'd had an attentive Warden, perhaps things would have been different. If they'd had a Warden that had any input at all.
Reichenbach shook his curled head, and still came another invisible tremor as he revolted against the idea of being held. It would not be permanent — he would see to it. He'd visit each Court and make amends, if that changed things.
It likely wouldn't, but he could try.
"The closing of the Gates will not be permanent." Now he looked to Aislinn and Isorath, daring them to say otherwise. He would get written letters from each Court stating their goodwill, if that was what was required — in fact, he would open the Gates himself if he thought the danger of harm had passed. There was reason behind their choices, and care, it was easy to see despite the verbal attack being laid upon them.
He looked to Lyra, his Champion of Community — her job was about to get a whole lot harder, and a whole lot busier. He had no doubt she would be inundated with requests and questions about the Gates once their meeting had finished, and so he would seek her out later and sit with her while she was approached. For solidarity, to show his people that they were not ruled by a highly King in a golden throne, but a gypsy thief that had grown up in their streets.
"I must ask for your patience in this matter — Remember, Aislinn was born in our own forests, she has lived and grown and served in Denocte her whole life. Isorath has given all of himself to our city, to our Country, despite previous ties."
And he's getting destroyed for it up here.
"I have seen mercy, and happiness, and the undying loyalty of a people who refuse to be anything but themselves. I see passion and flame, and love for our Country. We come from different backgrounds, different lives.. sometimes different worlds — and yet we live together in harmony." A small smile cracked his black lips, "Most of the time."
"Let us do that for a while longer."
@ALL THE PEOPLE
@Isorath @Aislinn @Lavinia @Lyra @Raum @Acton @Jezana @Eidolon @Rhoswen @Isra @Rostislav
Sorry if I've missed anything important, so much to reply to!! <3
