This particular evening, the wind was silent. Normally the peaceful way the wind would flow from one side of Denocte to the other brought a sense of peace to the Night Court. But not tonight. Tonight, there was an eerie silence that brought uneasiness to the warrior. She was restless, unable to sleep in the small home that she had made with Metaphor. Something was calling to her, tugging at her heart and it was a feeling that she could not ignore.
She leaves her bonded to watch over Metaphor, to ensure that this silence was not hiding something that could harm him. Should she lose her lover again, then she would never be able to forgive herself. And so, she assures Finnick that she is fine, that she can defend herself against the wickedness of the world. His job is to watch over Metaphor when she cannot. Reluctantly, her bonded agrees and keeps his watchful eyes over Metaphor as he sleeps.
Steps take her deep into the mountains, a place in Denocte that she feels safe. It’s ironic, really, that just a place offers her sanctuary. Most would not find solace in the cold bitter air of the higher altitude, the denseness of the forest, or the constant fear that someone might be lurking within the shadows. And yet, it doesn’t bother Katniss like it should. She feels alive within the mountains. She can hear the mountain’s heartbeat and she follows it as it leads her along a path she’s never been down before. But she is not ruled by fear.
The moonlight catches on something up ahead and Katniss slows her progression as she comes around the corner. The moonlight has illuminated a white temple made of what appears to be marble. But as she comes up to the steps, she cannot help but wonder if marble is truly what the stone is. Surely the gods have constructed it of some sort of material not found in Novus. Perhaps she puts too much faith in the gods. Perhaps it is just a plain white marble.
Regardless, she begins to ascend the stairs when she hears that she is not alone. She can hear the footsteps of another, a stranger. She can smell him up ahead, his scent musty and strong. It’s a smell that she has not encountered before. Cautiously, she steps forward, towards the other. She careful about where she steps, stepping on dead, fallen leaves to mask the echo her hooves make against the stone flooring. And then she sees him. He’s dark, blending into the night. Eyes follow his figure, learning his color, his horns, his everything. “What has drawn you to the mountain?” She’s seen him before, from a distance. He’s a Night Court soldier, someone she should know better than she does. Perhaps it’s time they try to form some sort of bond. With all that was happening in Novus, one could not be too careful.
She comes to settle closer to him, her tall form looking out at the markings etched into the stone. She feels at home here, and she’s unsure of why. “My name is Katniss, by the way.” They should at least formally introduce each other. At least perhaps then they might could build on some sort of working relationship. Time would tell if friendship would blossom or if it would remain plutonic.
@Erasmus
