f l o r e n t i n e
It was in Dawn’s new light, that the girl emerges from the forest. Before her the castle rises high, high into the sky, framed in the pinks and golds of a cresting sun.
The dusk girl had been to every kingdom thus far and met each at its most favoured time of day. There was no escaping that the dawn was finest here…
It is upon the precipice of the trees, that the dusk girl is tethered. Awe binds her limbs to the grassy banks of the river that curls sleepily around the foot of the castle.
Her limbs ache, satisfyingly so, for her trek had been a long one; through night and shadow with only starlight and moonlight to mark her path. It was only as she reached the edge of the woodland, as trees began to thin and the world began to creep back in, that she saw the first light, brightening the sky.
She wonders if the sage was here. Charlemagne, the boy of books and dust with whom she had, had her worst encounter since arriving in Novus… The fear of meeting him again would not sway the flower girl from her task to greet each Court and their sovereign. It helped that adventure eased the ache of her limbs and fuelled her eager heart.
High above the golden girl the trees begin to sigh, rousing from their slumber by the morning songs of birds. Clad in dirt and dust, strewn with petals and flowers, and bearing scraped knees and muddy feet, Florentine appears a natural part of this forest life.
The water calls and she does so long for a bath, if not to let the waters ease the dirt from her skin, then just to ease the ache of her muscles. Lavender petals fall forwards, loosened from her mane to drift upon the water’s surface. Is it warm? she asks as they float off towards the sea.
She does not hear their answer, nor even wait to see it one would ever come, for with a sigh and a flurry of wings, the dusk girl ascends the walls of the fort. She lands, light and nimble upon the other side, her amethyst eyes gleaming as she drinks in its towering parapets and lavish stonework.
It is so quiet in these early moments as the rest of the world still slumbers on. Yet if any land was to be awakening first, it would be the denizens of Delumine.
“Good Morning,” She says, her voice a melody to accompany the choir of birds, “I bring greetings from the Dusk Court and Queen Rannveig.”
@Kasil <3 @Charlemagne <3
this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart
The dusk girl had been to every kingdom thus far and met each at its most favoured time of day. There was no escaping that the dawn was finest here…
It is upon the precipice of the trees, that the dusk girl is tethered. Awe binds her limbs to the grassy banks of the river that curls sleepily around the foot of the castle.
Her limbs ache, satisfyingly so, for her trek had been a long one; through night and shadow with only starlight and moonlight to mark her path. It was only as she reached the edge of the woodland, as trees began to thin and the world began to creep back in, that she saw the first light, brightening the sky.
She wonders if the sage was here. Charlemagne, the boy of books and dust with whom she had, had her worst encounter since arriving in Novus… The fear of meeting him again would not sway the flower girl from her task to greet each Court and their sovereign. It helped that adventure eased the ache of her limbs and fuelled her eager heart.
High above the golden girl the trees begin to sigh, rousing from their slumber by the morning songs of birds. Clad in dirt and dust, strewn with petals and flowers, and bearing scraped knees and muddy feet, Florentine appears a natural part of this forest life.
The water calls and she does so long for a bath, if not to let the waters ease the dirt from her skin, then just to ease the ache of her muscles. Lavender petals fall forwards, loosened from her mane to drift upon the water’s surface. Is it warm? she asks as they float off towards the sea.
She does not hear their answer, nor even wait to see it one would ever come, for with a sigh and a flurry of wings, the dusk girl ascends the walls of the fort. She lands, light and nimble upon the other side, her amethyst eyes gleaming as she drinks in its towering parapets and lavish stonework.
It is so quiet in these early moments as the rest of the world still slumbers on. Yet if any land was to be awakening first, it would be the denizens of Delumine.
“Good Morning,” She says, her voice a melody to accompany the choir of birds, “I bring greetings from the Dusk Court and Queen Rannveig.”
@Kasil <3 @Charlemagne <3
★ She is clothed with strength and dignity,
and she laughs without fear of the future ★
