a falling star fell from your heart,
and landed in my eyes
and landed in my eyes
There was a sickening quality to the night, something cloyingly sweet, like sugar syrup. A heaviness on the tongue, it made Kassandra’s head light. It seemed like days since she had bedded down to sleep, long hours of trekking through this diseased, black nothing; in reality, only a few hours had passed. She was, in fact, dreaming, but it was an empty sort of dream, quite unlike the explosions of color and chaos that Kass was used to having. The dream was simple-- it was night, and she was walking forward; but the dark air around her felt like walls and everything was too hot, too close, and her destination was too far away.
A panic wells in her throat, bitter and hard, and for a moment she has trouble breathing. She pauses, nares flaring, as the muscles in her neck strain to work oxygen into her lungs; her graceless bulk stumbles forward and she’s pitching down a slope. Two bumps and she’s dropping through empty air, night-black all around, pushing hard, pushing close, legs flailing in the nothing. No stars, no lights, no gentle, distant hum of Caligo’s presence-- there’s no atmosphere and too much, all at once. No air rushing in her ears but some growing loudness, like she’s dropping off the edge of a roaring waterfall--
--there’s a squeeze against her pelt like she’s fall through, broken through something, an invisible barrier in the blackness-- and then she’s frozen in midair. She is surrounded by stars-- clouds of luminescent orange dust float by her; clouds of pink and purple gasses hover in vast emptiness; scattered pinpricks of white light dance and shift from all directions.
From one of these objects, a singular beam strikes through the sky; she follows it’s trail like a guide, and it leads her eyes to a perfectly black spot, empty and devoid of light or matter. It is shaped, oddly enough, like an equine, laid down to sleep. She gets the feeling space in this single spot in the universe has been worn away over vast periods of time. There is an intense wrongness in its emptiness, the kind of anomalous event that sends shivers down your spine, like footsteps in an otherwise empty room, or a gust of wind in an underground tomb.
Around the spot the colors weave and glimmer, golds and blues and bursts of green. It is something magical, something regal, all forming into a spot fit for a queen.
Kassandra swallows, and realizes. This is why she has not been dreaming.
This is Caligo’s seat. Her bed.
Caligo sends her her dreams.
And she is not here.
The realization hits her like lightning with a crash just as loud and she jumps from her sleep with an ear-piercing scream. Oculos, her bonded, is startled awake with a yelp. Kassandra stumbles forward, sucking air into her lungs.
what’s wrong? Oculos asks, watching Kassandra struggle as though she’s fighting with an invisible opponent. He repeats himself, ears pinned with fear, until eventually she calms down enough to stand still, though she is still shaking.
“It’s all wrong,” Kassandra moans, caught betwixt fear from her lingering nightmare, and the heart-stopping feeling of standing up too quickly. She inhales. “She’s here.” Exhale. “She’s here.”
Oculos tries to ask who she’s talking about but before he can get the words out she’s off, launching across the earth as fast as her stout legs can carry her. Her silver tresses fly behind her like banners in the wind. And she doesn’t really know where she’s going, but her body does, and soon she sees it-- looming out of the darkness, the great stone Denoctian keep. The torches that light its baileys have an odd hue to them, like the light from the flame itself is subdued.
There’s a gathering of curious onlookers as Kassandra continues to charge her way into the castle proper; under the lifted iron gates, she forces aside would-be watchers with no care for her own personal safety-- the ‘excuse me’s’ and ‘pardon’s’ she offers are covered by her heaving breaths.
Only when she lays eyes on her and her exquisite onyx form does she still. Silver hair is sweat-stuck to her neck; she is panting, open-mouthed, with eyes glowing slightly with wonder. Seeing Caligo makes all the jumbled bits of her fall into place. All the visions, all the long nights and thrashing dreams; all the injuries sustained running in her sleep. Everything she’s meant to do, to be.
Kassandra walks forward, nervous, but more sure of this than anything in her life. “Mother of the Night,” she calls, her voice hoarse from running, but melodious, and unshaking, “it has taken me long nights to answer the questions that plague me. I know, now. The dreams. They come from you.” She holds her head up, no longer a child, no longer a bird in a cage. She is a chosen of Caligo, now. She feels this in every fiber of her star-painted being. "I'm ready for this course you've set me upon. Let me provide what I can for your people, as you have done for me.”
Even if it was just snippets of images of the chaos of the future, Kassandra was ready to bear it.
A panic wells in her throat, bitter and hard, and for a moment she has trouble breathing. She pauses, nares flaring, as the muscles in her neck strain to work oxygen into her lungs; her graceless bulk stumbles forward and she’s pitching down a slope. Two bumps and she’s dropping through empty air, night-black all around, pushing hard, pushing close, legs flailing in the nothing. No stars, no lights, no gentle, distant hum of Caligo’s presence-- there’s no atmosphere and too much, all at once. No air rushing in her ears but some growing loudness, like she’s dropping off the edge of a roaring waterfall--
--there’s a squeeze against her pelt like she’s fall through, broken through something, an invisible barrier in the blackness-- and then she’s frozen in midair. She is surrounded by stars-- clouds of luminescent orange dust float by her; clouds of pink and purple gasses hover in vast emptiness; scattered pinpricks of white light dance and shift from all directions.
From one of these objects, a singular beam strikes through the sky; she follows it’s trail like a guide, and it leads her eyes to a perfectly black spot, empty and devoid of light or matter. It is shaped, oddly enough, like an equine, laid down to sleep. She gets the feeling space in this single spot in the universe has been worn away over vast periods of time. There is an intense wrongness in its emptiness, the kind of anomalous event that sends shivers down your spine, like footsteps in an otherwise empty room, or a gust of wind in an underground tomb.
Around the spot the colors weave and glimmer, golds and blues and bursts of green. It is something magical, something regal, all forming into a spot fit for a queen.
Kassandra swallows, and realizes. This is why she has not been dreaming.
This is Caligo’s seat. Her bed.
Caligo sends her her dreams.
And she is not here.
The realization hits her like lightning with a crash just as loud and she jumps from her sleep with an ear-piercing scream. Oculos, her bonded, is startled awake with a yelp. Kassandra stumbles forward, sucking air into her lungs.
what’s wrong? Oculos asks, watching Kassandra struggle as though she’s fighting with an invisible opponent. He repeats himself, ears pinned with fear, until eventually she calms down enough to stand still, though she is still shaking.
“It’s all wrong,” Kassandra moans, caught betwixt fear from her lingering nightmare, and the heart-stopping feeling of standing up too quickly. She inhales. “She’s here.” Exhale. “She’s here.”
Oculos tries to ask who she’s talking about but before he can get the words out she’s off, launching across the earth as fast as her stout legs can carry her. Her silver tresses fly behind her like banners in the wind. And she doesn’t really know where she’s going, but her body does, and soon she sees it-- looming out of the darkness, the great stone Denoctian keep. The torches that light its baileys have an odd hue to them, like the light from the flame itself is subdued.
There’s a gathering of curious onlookers as Kassandra continues to charge her way into the castle proper; under the lifted iron gates, she forces aside would-be watchers with no care for her own personal safety-- the ‘excuse me’s’ and ‘pardon’s’ she offers are covered by her heaving breaths.
Only when she lays eyes on her and her exquisite onyx form does she still. Silver hair is sweat-stuck to her neck; she is panting, open-mouthed, with eyes glowing slightly with wonder. Seeing Caligo makes all the jumbled bits of her fall into place. All the visions, all the long nights and thrashing dreams; all the injuries sustained running in her sleep. Everything she’s meant to do, to be.
Kassandra walks forward, nervous, but more sure of this than anything in her life. “Mother of the Night,” she calls, her voice hoarse from running, but melodious, and unshaking, “it has taken me long nights to answer the questions that plague me. I know, now. The dreams. They come from you.” She holds her head up, no longer a child, no longer a bird in a cage. She is a chosen of Caligo, now. She feels this in every fiber of her star-painted being. "I'm ready for this course you've set me upon. Let me provide what I can for your people, as you have done for me.”
Even if it was just snippets of images of the chaos of the future, Kassandra was ready to bear it.
About the RPer
Sunny
24.... 24? 24.
Not officially! I was once part of like a 'limited edition' race on another site before, it was fun. Honestly I like playing characters of power because I like being involved and included! I like to matter. Specifically for Kassandra, she's very important to me, and I've been working so hard to kind of shoe-horn her into this pre-determined destiny that I had for her but it isn't working out that way at all. So we're really in a crossroads, her and I, where anything can happen.
Yes
I love my Novus peeps!
Sovereign Questions
Kassandra is, I think, more... peaceful and, like 'tame', than what one would normally expect for a Night sov. She's not openly warlike or aggressive and wants to make friends with everybody. I think what really makes her special is her... uncontrollable passion for everything, people included. She immediately wants to be best friends with everyone, and is innately NOT mistrusting of strangers, which, for a plot point, could be really interesting. In a position of leadership, having once been at the mercy of a Bad Leader, she would strive to protect and take care of everyone under her; she would want to uphold the prosperity and well-being of the Night Court to the best of her ability and she would be absolutely terrified of disappointing people.
She spent the first five years of her life locked in a silver box and now she wants to travel, and see, and experience everything; she's still quite young and has much to learn about the ways of the world. But it is this inexperience and this desire to experience that makes her so... EXCITED about living, and learning, and, just, being alive. She would bring this excitement and passion into her leadership.
Finally, Kassandra was sort of at her wits end with everything when she arrived in Novus and Denocte and it's people opened its arms for her, contrary to what they normally do, and welcomed her into the fold. This is extremely important to her because she's felt like she's been 'cursed' for her entire life so she sort of thinks the Denoctians have welcomed her in and agreed to-- to be around her despite the fact that she's (in her head) a danger to herself and everyone around her? So she loves her court and would put her life on the line to protect it.
Kassandra would definitely overhaul the court to make it... happier, less broody. She is a people pleaser and would literally run herself into the ground trying to make everyone happy. She knows Denocte is famed for the arts so she would probably throw even MORE parties and artistic celebrations because parties make people happy, right? There would definitely need to be the arranging of, like, a core team of advisors to guide her, like her Champions, and they would be consulted quite frequently because she will need some direction and also some mental health support.
love you novus please be nice to my baby.
