every time we get this close it's always pulling us apart
Whispers spread faster than fire, rumors of truth are gleaned in empty halls where a meeting should have been but is not. All too quickly it happens, the maze begins to melt as the stars scream in the sky. The Queen is gone, she's been stolen. Even the air of Denocte rings in defiance, carrying fast to the newly anointed Emissary's ears all that has happened. A maid saw a man dressed in silver and a young boy helping to haul the unicorn coated in blood and blossoming flowers into the night, into the arms of the Arma Mountains where she might be spirited away.
All that talk of a world to be, of the glass spire that whispers brightness where all is falling and drowning and crashing in a world of damnation and ruination, it turns to sparkling diamond dust in the midst of Isra being stolen away. Within sparks the fire of a phoenix, ignites about her more brightly than the candles she demands to be lit in every window of the castle, from the ashes of her soul a new heart is born - a cracking and mending and never-ending lighting bursting forth until the Pegasus nearly shines with her righteous rage and fury.
In the night the woman strides through the halls of the palace where so many had lain while their queen was slipping away, warnings are set up in watch towers so freshly rebuilt from their previous disaster. Her steps are the tolling of funeral bells, loud and heavy and demanding those who hear come, come and listen.
The Tonnerre woman would tell you she did not ask to be queen this time; once, when Caligo was in want for a champion and Denocte needed healing, once she'd raised her hand for the throne. Now... When her dearest friend who is family but not blood is taken, all she feels is ice running through her veins, so cold it burns. Ice from before the world was born, before the sun ever knew how to blink and radiate and shine, from something colder and far more dangerous than any living fire ever could be.
She reaches the antechamber, sweeps through it like a storm, leaves the kitchen-staff she's come to adore gaping. Like that the woman is through the foyer and on the front steps of the castle as the court awakens before dawn ever lays eyes upon the lot. The phoenix can recall a night like this, a night when Isra was crowned and called forth her court. That day, music came from the chains about her ankles as sweetly as the words came from her lips; it was a siren's song that had called them all to the steps of the great castle that held strong through many a night worse than this.
Now, as the bells ring over all of their realms, one warning after another, it is not so sweet an awakening that her Court will be given. "Brothers, sisters, friends and loved ones. Come, come fast to the arms of the castle. Tonight," she cries out with sorrow on her tongue and defiance in those honeyed eyes, "a great wrong has been committed ! I call you forth to aid all of Denocte !"
Moira Tonnerre is not one for grand speeches to address a crowd, but she knows it is not yet time to tell them Isra is gone, not until all are gathered. Then, only once her court is here at last can she weave starlight into their souls and give them tonics for courage and brightness for their hearts. Only then may she tell them their queen is stolen, and war-games will come at last where she wished them never to be.
All NC members, Moira calls you forth now so we can start our
The maze is collapsing and Acton's body is the only thing to lie among the rubble as it falls, whispers are about that a silver man was seen spiriting away our beloved Isra under unknown conditions, and you may or may not have heard of this. Let us come together now to right these wrongs and keep the tenuous peace from shattering.
