we're two kids
just trying to start a fight
just trying to start a fight
A
ll the bonfires in the world cannot match the fire in her heart, the thundering of her blood, the seething monster lurking just beneath her skin. Ah, but how proud the shrieking phoenix is of the court that comes when they are beckoned, that raises their heads high to offer aid to their queen and her merry band that follows. Their hearts are strong, their courage true, and she feels as though this is what it would have been to be a parent, what it should have been at the Tonnerre Estate and was not. But now, now is not the time to dwell on the past and her family's many mistakes. The Pegasus sweeps through the halls, having called her people within the doors of the castle, within the walls where spying eyes and prying ears cannot find them and report back to monsters that dwell in the dark. She directs them to a room, a grand chamber with a table in the center for Pan's map, and then excuses herself for but a moment. There are items to be retrieved from her chambers, and Moira needs a steadying breath to cool the rising flames.
It is within the walls she finds the bird, chirping on her windowsill, and pulls the letter from his leg gently, floating a bowl of seeds up for his pleasure and work.
Brows furrow and she darkens.
Quickly a new parchment floats from a drawer, her quill already dipping in ink with only a hurried splatter or two upon the top corner as the only indication of the urgency. Stakes have risen now that beasts of more than flesh like her own prowl the grounds.
Regent of Dawn, Ipomoea,
I am afraid your letter has not found its mark, for our queen is gone. A blight upon our lands has come in the form of a silver man made of death and rebellion and bloodshed who calls himself Raum. I fear that I cannot tell you a happy ending, not like our sweet Isra can, but I can tell you only this:
Death stalks our lands and monsters in flesh are rising. One of our soldiers court has been slain by the silver beast, and then he fled like the coward he is with our Queen limp upon his back. Our forces are rallying and we will bring Isra home.
I know not of the beast that lurks in your lands, this nightmare that feasts on flesh. Were Isra here she might, but I will look through our library and return to you with any word of lore that my court can find.
Ipomoea, stay safe in these trying times. If Denocte can reach her star-kissed skies to shelter you and provide aid, if we can do any more than unearth legends in this brewing battle, send word.
Night Court Emissary, Acting Sovereign, Healer of All Peoples,
Moira Tonnerre
A single foot taps impatiently upon the stone floor as she watches the ink dry, watches wax drip upon the folded parchment as though in a dream, watches as she draws the Tonnerre Crest of an owl and maiden glaring, poised for attack, and delicate, spiraling T upon the cooling surface as it is sealed closed. At last, the phoenix turns to the beautiful owl and beckons him nearer. She whispers so sweetly in his ear, and with a flourish unleashes him into the air to fly quick and fly true back into the heart of Delumine once more.
@Moira | "speaks" | notes: @Ipomoea <3
