Runa would never forget the first time she and Umbra stepped foot within the Night Court proper, arriving after travel from the Arma Mountains. She would never forget the sights, the sounds, the smells. Or the colors! Glorious and bright, flamboyant and stunning, the young maid was struck with such affinity and fondness for a place she had just met. Curious creatures wearing masks partaking in a masquerade pranced around merrily in pretty silks and shiny trinkets, and Runaveig’s wide golden eyes followed them about in childlike wonder. How beautiful they all looked, dancing about with their chosen partners. It was a sight she wanted to remember for the rest of her life, to capture it within ink or paint and imprint it forever upon a canvas. There were stalls aplenty stocked with beautiful wares; exotic silks, alluring floral perfumes, tasty sweet treats, shiny jewelry, and a plethora of other eccentric items that tickled the woman’s fancy. For the fun of it, she had Umbra try on a pink and lavender flower crown, and then giggled at the pygmy dragon’s displeasure. There were figures dancing, bards singing, and exuberant merriment all around. She felt both drastically out of place and at home at the very same time, waltzing with quick, nimble steps among the throngs of civilians eagerly participating in whatever festival she had found herself late to. Never before had she felt more grateful for the decorative floral mantles she wore and the silk shawl draped dramatically over her supple shoulders. It helped her feel as though she somewhat fit in, prancing about through the crowds with a jovial eagerness. The welcoming, festive atmosphere did not last, however, and seemed to come crashing down around their very ears. A shout, high with feminine desperation, pierced through the throng of celebration. A few individuals broke away from their chosen activities to weave their way through the streets of Denocte towards the voice. Runa hesitated for only a moment, uncertain if they should investigate, and then glanced upwards at Umbra. “Should we go, too?” The question was laced with worry. The black pygmy dragon gave a low grunt, swirling about in the air before coming to rest upon the colored unicorn’s back. ’Let’s. Something seems to have happened. Don’t worry; I’ll keep you safe.’ Umbra’s counsel was always a soothing boon, and Runa did not doubt him. He had been with her since her birth, and never once had he let her down. Giving the dragon a short nod, Runaveig turned about to follow the others who were summoned by the call, weaving her way through the crowds with elegant steps befitting a dancer. She knew when they arrived. Various individuals had conglomerated into one area, all looking towards a striking woman of fire red and burning gold. She was the one who had summoned them. There was something about her that commanded respect, and as others in the area began to speak, Runaveig was content to stand near the back of the group and listen, pretty ears pointed forward at attention. Upon her back, Umbra remained, the silent, stoic sentinel that he always was. |
