"give grief to me. i'm a woman, i know her. as she is.
draped in cornflower. blue & warm & bitter. she is a lovely girl.
missing you feels like doing something impossible. swimming in my sleep.
gone body, ghost river. that's us."
draped in cornflower. blue & warm & bitter. she is a lovely girl.
missing you feels like doing something impossible. swimming in my sleep.
gone body, ghost river. that's us."
Knock-knock-knock.
Blearily, Bexley opens one eye. One ear swivels forward.
Knock-knock-knock.
Her sleepiness is slowly chased out by interest: a growing sense of ominous expectation that sits, rock-heavy, in the bottom of her stomach..
Knock-knock-knock.
Finally, Bexley sits up in her pile of cushions.
Knock-knock-knock—she leans toward the sound, head rising to look outside. And Bexley realizes, with a sense of terror, that the noise is the rhythmic tapping of a vulture’s nail-hard beak on her window.
It sits perched on the windowsill outside. It is unnaturally huge, as still and terrible as a church gargoyle. Dust sits around its bald head like an anti-halo. Its once-white feathers are now dusty-red with blood; its beady black eyes glitter with unintelligent malice. It looks at her with its head tilted like a wild dog’s.
And then its beak opens. It scrapes its black-hole mouth over the windowpane, and the torturously slow drag of its beak on the glass makes a noise so shrill and apocalyptic that Bexley flinches—ears flattening against her neck, heart jumping suddenly in her chest, so much blood rushing to her head that it turns her vision briefly black.
Then: silence. The world stops. It unfolds around her; it opens up on every side, like the petals of a flower.
There is so much to look at—the walls falling down, the desert roiling outside like a storm, the empty throne with its jewels already picked over. But Bexley cannot look away from the vulture, who sits and stares back at her with its neck curved into a giant question, wearing a sharp, hollow grin like an empty omen.
And she knows she has to follow it.
Out here, the world is as stunningly gold as anyone could ever paint it: gold sand, gold sun, gold sky. Golden girl gone traipsing through the desert.
Solterra was made for summer. The oasis glimmers on the horizon, a jewel-bright spot of blue carved into the never-ending desert. In some spots, the sun is so strong it makes the sand ripple in a mirage, promising treasures it cannot possibly give. The light of the sun bleaches Bexley’s vision a hazy white. Sun sparkles in the curl of her eyelashes; she cannot see anything but the pedestal that rises against the horizon, a monolith in the blurry distance while the rest of the world fades away.
But she doesn’t need to. If Bexley is anything, she is stubborn. And if the vulture overhead is flying to that pedestal (it is—she can see it wheeling lazy circles in the cloudless sky), well, then—she will follow it.
A few other Solterrans pass her on the way there. They blow past in tides of sand, making no attempt to save their strength. Their bodies are sleek and scarless; they are the bodies of children, almost—bodies that have never known any damage. (Solis will not like that.) She doesn’t recognize any of them past a fleeting recollection of crossing paths in this church or that market, but from the arrogant flounce in their step and the swan-like arch of their necks, Bexley knows they are native.
She knows, too, that they will not survive. Their vast overconfidence will be their downfall; they will trip over their own egos and drown in the sand that fills their throats. She knows this because she was them, once. Years ago she spat at the feet of a god who might have killed her, but did much worse: took her magic. Killed her husband. Crowned her daughter with devil horns made of pure white light.
For all her faults, Bexley has never been one to make the same mistake twice.
The sky is still a sweet, clear blue. The air is filled with the sound of rushing wind; Bexley hears the beating of wings as the vulture soars down to sit behind her, still watching with those beady dark eyes.
Solterra’s golden girl comes sliding to a stop in the sun-warmed sand. The pedestal rises sharply in front of her; at its base the desert swirls and churns like Charybdis, throwing up huge waves of golden sand. Flecks of fire dance over the stone. More than once, she catches the bleach-white glint of a bone soaring through the air.
But the area itself is empty. There are no other bodies here, dead or alive.
Solis does not have to love her. Neither does the desert (Diana might be the only one the desert ever really loves). But they respect her—this she knows for a fact. And in Solterra, that is the highest given praise.
Crackling with pure white light, Bexley Briar steps into the sun.
About the RPer
RB!
19 :)
Indeed! I’ve had Mari as Sovereign of Dusk for the past RL year ~ish, and a few years of experience on another site as a herd leader. It’s a big responsibility to keep things interesting for all members of the court with varied events and incentives, and it can be hard to come to decisions about filling certain positions; but overall, holding a PoP has always been enjoyable and inspiring for me. I really adore organizing new events & lore and getting the opportunity to work alongside other members (rather than “on top of”) to develop our court.
Yes!
As someone who’s been here since (almost) the beginning, it has been an absolute pleasure to see Novus’ culture, lore, and adopts grow so much further than just what’s in the guidebook. Of course the lore surrounding the gods themselves & Novus’ creation is wonderful, but I am always so proud of & impressed by the amount of love and creativity our members have poured into expanding this world, and I think it’s a testament to how much we adore the site.
Sovereign Questions
Bex’s loyalty to Solterra is extraordinary and unwavering. Even after seeing the Court change hands a number of times, and personally passing in and out of Solterran positions of power, she is still fiercely defensive of and passionate about her court. Since arriving in Novus she’s gone through many changes, yet her most innate traits remain fundamentally Solterran: prideful, extroverted, unflinchingly honest, and unafraid of a challenge.
Bexley’s experience navigating the politics of Novus and her connections in each court would make her an incredibly effective leader. Solterra may be known as the nation of hot-headed soldiers, but our population also contains nobles (hi Ieshans!), ex-Davkes, a dream-walker, a sociopathic doctor, and a number of other incredibly unique and well-written characters that deserve the spotlight. I think increasing the weight that diplomacy holds in Solterran life would allow everyone more equal representation & opportunities. While Bexley would never try to sanitize Solterra’s violent tendencies, I think the focus that she would bring to political dialogue, both inter- and intra-court, would be a fun change and provide more scope for potential lore, events, and adopts.
If she were to rule, I think Bex would strike the perfect balance between acknowledging Solterra’s cutthroat roots and improving its reputation in the eyes of the other courts. Her political experience, alongside her genuine love for Solterra and its citizens, make her a perfect candidate for leadership.
I would love to decide this alongside other court members to choose something that inspires everyone, but I think Solterra could really benefit from seasonal/annual gatherings hosted by the noble houses or other subgroup leaders. Our incredible turnout for the Winter party shows that these would be a great way to encourage Court members who might not otherwise interact organically to thread with each other, as well bring in guests from other kingdoms! I also would love to get some more religious lore & adopts going, since I think that’s something Solterra in particular lacks. Bex would also want to organize regular spars, which would strengthen Solterra’s military power IC and provide a great opportunity to gain exp OOCly; and incentivize ranks that are currently sparse (e.g. medics) through a combination of IC glory and signos or item rewards. Overall, Bexley’s goal as Sovereign is to make everyone see Solterra like she does: a vibrant, culturally diverse community that just so happens to be the life of the party.
Here's your chance to add anything else at all!
