![[Image: s03P8Yq.png]](http://i.imgur.com/s03P8Yq.png)
LIKE ICARUS LOVED THE SUN -
Like a moth to a flame Reichenbach was drawn to the sunlight that bathed the Steppe in gold, his mahogany coat gleaming and slick in the hazy afternoon light. It seemed all of the courts had been drawn into action by Solterra's flurry of activity - the announcement of new Sovereigns echoing throughout all of Novus as if in competition. Of all Denocte's more suited politicians, it had been he, he, that had gained the honour of serving Denocte and the Night Court as it's reigning Sovereign. In all the madness and mess Reichenbach had slipped away for some peace, the blood thrumming hot and thick through his burning veins. He'd never really been made for Court life - not in the traditional sense of the word. He was made for chill nights under shining stars, for embers and flame and wildness, for life and love... and in all that he was, Reichenbach had finally discovered that he could create a Court of Dreams to serve the people he adored. His people.
A pleased sigh slipped from between his relaxed lips, lashes brushing his cheekbones as he opened his eyes and blinked a few times to adjust to the bright, fat sunbeams that haloed him. He had been hoping there might be someone else at the Steppe, another who craved some exercise, some bruising and bloodiness, just to bring himself back to reality. Alas there had been nobody when he arrived, nobody but the birds and a single rabbit that had bounded away as soon as his black knees had been brushed by the edges of too-long grass. Reich glanced at the arena, it's downtrodden earth compact and no doubt holding more history than he could fathom, countless warriors blood had watered that earth, and no doubt even Kings had done warfare here... Kings. Sovereigns. The huff of a disbelieving laugh left his throat as he was once again brought back to his current situation. He rolled his shoulders, wanting a release from the weight that had slowly gathered there.
Though he would never shirk the responsibility to his people, the weight of a whole courts wellbeing weighed like a brick upon him - this was why he had arrived at the Steppe with fire in his eyes and a brightness that was all too difficult to dim. He thrummed with energy, with power and muscle, the need to fight and release, to spit blood and throw punches - and the battleground stood silent and empty, save for those infuriating birds.
@Maxence
