Israfel
Funny for someone who hated the swamps to be spending so much time in them.
Solaris fluttered ahead of her sulking charge, her massive golden frame gliding elegantly above the stagnant waters and the twisted, gnarled trees. The Phoenix had little care for Israfel’s opinion of this place; a mystical beast as she was, Solaris understood the ancient prowess and history of a seemingly lackluster location. There was something alive within this land, something ancient and surreal, nestled within every bubbling breath of swamp water or passing breeze that caressed the peat moss and muck. A magic, hidden away and forgotten was tucked beneath the very soil, within the trees, on the very sigh and groan of the world around them. Solaris could only assume that it was awakening, this long forgotten world, and the magic of this place whispered a single word within the Phoenix’s mind.
Ilati.
That word again.
Florentine had said it surreptitiously at the meeting, whispered and shaped like a warning, like prayer, the meeting of which had been hosted in this very place only recently. Solaris remembered, and she knew that Israfel did, as well. It was hard not to. That meeting had been a turning point within Terrastella, and surely they would feel the weight of its damnation for weeks, if not months, to come.
Tempers had flared like the very flames that Solaris could summon. Biting words had been exchanged, reasoning ignored. The Phoenix did not know where she stood in regards to the drama, but she knew very well the damage that it had wrought down upon her godly charge. Israfel had not quite been the same since the meeting, since the departure of Jude, who, presumably, had left them to follow the trail of Isorath.
”How many more of our own must we lose to this?” Israfel had begged her in the safety and seclusion of her own chambers within the Dusk citadel, her normally stalwart and proud charge nearly rendered to tears upon the conclusion of the meeting. ”We’re tearing each other down and ripping each other apart.” Solaris had wanted to curse them, but she was mute to the ears of the Court.
’Let them squabble,’ the Phoenix had stated, violet eyes peering keenly, knowingly, at her charge, ’Do your duty. Follow your path. Let them make their own.’ It was all easier said than done.
“You’re quiet,” Israfel’s voice carried over the silence of the swamp, and Solaris glanced over her gilded wings to realize that the demi-Goddess had caught up to her, vermilion depths curious and concerned, “That’s unlike you, Solaris.” The meeting had done its damage, yes, but Israfel was trying to overcome it. Loss was painful, no matter what form, and she would always struggle with it… But at least she had Solaris at her side. The ivory and gold Phoenix gave a harrumph, feathered breast heaving. The mighty beast turned and glided about a tree etched with peculiar carvings before twisting in the air and returning to her charge, wings flapping as she took purchase upon Israfel’s croup.
’Please. I’m merely remembering… The Ilati. Their magic still coats these waters and breathes among the trees. I can feel it.’ The Warden of Terrastella frowned, narrowing her gaze at her companion, before letting her eyes wander to explore the scenery around them.
It was true. Israfel cared little for the Tinea Swamp. It stank, the humidity was cloying and cumbersome on the best of days, and the energy of the place was just odd. Perhaps that was why she had never truly been comfortable here. “I know little of them. To be honest, I knew nothing of them until Florentine mentioned them in the meeting. They’re still rather a mystery to me, but…” The Sun Daughter trailed off, vermilion eyes growing alert as a shadow seemed to move up ahead, across a pool of stagnant water and moss. A ghost? No, no. It was too solid, to real. A creature, black as night and scaled like a Kirin, was busy carving etchings into a tree, seemingly paying her no mind. The scaled one replaced their knife before pulling out a small pot, beginning to paint the carvings with white ink, and Israfel found herself entranced. What in the world…?
“… What are you doing?” Okay, so, it might not have been Israfel’s finest moment, calling out loudly across the swamp water. Her voice echoed, head tilting curiously, but the Warden held her ground as she waited for the mysterious stranger to acknowledge her. Upon her back, Solaris’ piercing violet eyes regarded the ebony stranger with an expression mixed of caution and awe. Again, the whispers sang to the mystic bird, a chorus that praised only one word;
Ilati.
Solaris fluttered ahead of her sulking charge, her massive golden frame gliding elegantly above the stagnant waters and the twisted, gnarled trees. The Phoenix had little care for Israfel’s opinion of this place; a mystical beast as she was, Solaris understood the ancient prowess and history of a seemingly lackluster location. There was something alive within this land, something ancient and surreal, nestled within every bubbling breath of swamp water or passing breeze that caressed the peat moss and muck. A magic, hidden away and forgotten was tucked beneath the very soil, within the trees, on the very sigh and groan of the world around them. Solaris could only assume that it was awakening, this long forgotten world, and the magic of this place whispered a single word within the Phoenix’s mind.
Ilati.
That word again.
Florentine had said it surreptitiously at the meeting, whispered and shaped like a warning, like prayer, the meeting of which had been hosted in this very place only recently. Solaris remembered, and she knew that Israfel did, as well. It was hard not to. That meeting had been a turning point within Terrastella, and surely they would feel the weight of its damnation for weeks, if not months, to come.
Tempers had flared like the very flames that Solaris could summon. Biting words had been exchanged, reasoning ignored. The Phoenix did not know where she stood in regards to the drama, but she knew very well the damage that it had wrought down upon her godly charge. Israfel had not quite been the same since the meeting, since the departure of Jude, who, presumably, had left them to follow the trail of Isorath.
”How many more of our own must we lose to this?” Israfel had begged her in the safety and seclusion of her own chambers within the Dusk citadel, her normally stalwart and proud charge nearly rendered to tears upon the conclusion of the meeting. ”We’re tearing each other down and ripping each other apart.” Solaris had wanted to curse them, but she was mute to the ears of the Court.
’Let them squabble,’ the Phoenix had stated, violet eyes peering keenly, knowingly, at her charge, ’Do your duty. Follow your path. Let them make their own.’ It was all easier said than done.
“You’re quiet,” Israfel’s voice carried over the silence of the swamp, and Solaris glanced over her gilded wings to realize that the demi-Goddess had caught up to her, vermilion depths curious and concerned, “That’s unlike you, Solaris.” The meeting had done its damage, yes, but Israfel was trying to overcome it. Loss was painful, no matter what form, and she would always struggle with it… But at least she had Solaris at her side. The ivory and gold Phoenix gave a harrumph, feathered breast heaving. The mighty beast turned and glided about a tree etched with peculiar carvings before twisting in the air and returning to her charge, wings flapping as she took purchase upon Israfel’s croup.
’Please. I’m merely remembering… The Ilati. Their magic still coats these waters and breathes among the trees. I can feel it.’ The Warden of Terrastella frowned, narrowing her gaze at her companion, before letting her eyes wander to explore the scenery around them.
It was true. Israfel cared little for the Tinea Swamp. It stank, the humidity was cloying and cumbersome on the best of days, and the energy of the place was just odd. Perhaps that was why she had never truly been comfortable here. “I know little of them. To be honest, I knew nothing of them until Florentine mentioned them in the meeting. They’re still rather a mystery to me, but…” The Sun Daughter trailed off, vermilion eyes growing alert as a shadow seemed to move up ahead, across a pool of stagnant water and moss. A ghost? No, no. It was too solid, to real. A creature, black as night and scaled like a Kirin, was busy carving etchings into a tree, seemingly paying her no mind. The scaled one replaced their knife before pulling out a small pot, beginning to paint the carvings with white ink, and Israfel found herself entranced. What in the world…?
“… What are you doing?” Okay, so, it might not have been Israfel’s finest moment, calling out loudly across the swamp water. Her voice echoed, head tilting curiously, but the Warden held her ground as she waited for the mysterious stranger to acknowledge her. Upon her back, Solaris’ piercing violet eyes regarded the ebony stranger with an expression mixed of caution and awe. Again, the whispers sang to the mystic bird, a chorus that praised only one word;
Ilati.
@Rhea - I could not resist. :|
