[P] between the bottom of the climb and the summit

[Elena]

It's always a matter, isn't it, of waiting for the world to come unraveled? When things hold together, it's always only temporary

A

cool spring breeze whirls its was through the trees of their home, causing branches overhead to rattle against one another as emerald leaves rustle subtly with the moving currents that carried it with the exciting variety of scents that filled the little riverside valley they called home in such a way that it was neither overwhelming or so faint that it was nonexistent. She could smell the fresh water that constantly changes and flows as it makes its way through the valley where her grandmother had been born. Where Royal Legacy, her great grandfather had ruled with a gentle, but firm hand. And then there was that calming, pure scent that Elaina so associated to Murmuring Rivers that even now when she smelled it the golden girl was immediately transported back. That scent could only be identified as the sweet lavender that grew rampant in the fields. The sights, sounds, and smells that could only be associated with Murmuring Rivers.

She moves along at a brisk trot along one of the many trails that her own grandmother once frolicked along that wound and weaved through the tall grasses and aspen trees that encircled the open field of the ancient realm that her blood ran deep within. She catches the sweet and enticing smell of wild raspberries that grew along the water’s edge that sometimes she snack on when Marcelo and Ori were not looking (but, lets be honest, Ori typically joined her in this snacking endeavor.) She pauses a time or two, nose lowered to the ground as lanky golden limbs adorned with a touch of a white sock on each carry her off the trail for a moment only for her to reappear and continue on her own pleasant way. Some would think maybe she was looking for the honeysuckle Marcelo had told her about, but the task at hand was certainly not flower searching.

She was hunting. Golden ears twitch and flitter about the top of her head amidst growing locks of cumulus, sunlight warming her sunflower skin in light as it cascaded down, enlighten the ancient lands. Eyes of amber, so much like her father’s, look around every tree, in every shadow cast, and when she spots a bush nearby that seems to be rustling, there is a pause in her forward stride and a silly little grin tugs at the corner of her ash dusted lips. She stands there on the path for a moment, watching the bush with an intensity as though if she stared long enough it might just wave at her. Suddenly, it moves and this time she can just barely make out the smallest, faintest note of laughter. She is hardly able to restrain a chiming giggle yet somehow manages, and suddenly she lunges forward. “Gotcha!” She squeals in a high pitched, girlish voice. She laughs as she collides with a crimson form, playfully reaching out to nip at red strands of her hair.

Quickly, she untangles herself from her cousin before pivoting on her heels and playfully taunting her. “Last one to the river has to kiss a fish!” She yells before leaping forward into a wild gallop. The afternoon of the youngest residents of Murmuring Rivers far from over. Their joyous laughter, a sign of their already deep friendship, the afternoon Frostbane had cornered them only plaguing the back of their minds, fills the valley.

The day is beautiful.
Lilli and Elaina need only each other to keep it so.

She wishes Lilli were here now.

Instead she is surrounded by kings.

Ira is the first. And he smiles, and it settle Elena, even as she picks at his emotions, but she can hardly read any ill will. She nods in response to his question. “I found it strangely vague,” she says honestly, narrowing her blue eyes slightly in concentration. It is only the mention of her home that manages to snap Elena’s attention away from such strange questions floating in her mind. “I would love nothing more than to have you as my guest. Terrastella is stunning,” she says, in a way that is clearly biased.

Andras. He announces with his arrival with the single word, his name. “Long time,” Elena says, even if it has not been, not for an immortal anyway. She wonders how much they know, about the transfer of power in Dusk. Elena has kept Marisol’s injury as secret as possible, as should be for Elena is still her doctor (in truth, she does not think she could ever view herself as Marisol’s sovereign).

Then, it is Adonai. Something like distrust strikes at the back of her throat. So it was true, the frail, golden man had risen to power in the land of sands once held by Orestes, once an ally of Terrastella. Elena cannot help but wonder if that alliance still holds true. Though, the more she looks upon Adonai, the less certain she feels. He was so ill the last time she had seen him. Yet here he is, with a crown upon his head no less. “No apology needed, we only have just arrived,” she says, at least in her case and Andras’s. She is unsure how long Ira has been here.

Silence barely has a moment to settle before Ira steps forward, uncloaked from shadows as he speaks. Elena simply shakes her head in response, stealing glances as the the kings surrounding her. “Perhaps from your view or within your own court,” Elena comments, desperate to keep Marisol’s condition hidden. She would not let the other lands be so informed that their commander’s condition was…compromised. “Dusk merely experienced a simple transfer of power,” she says, blue eyes shifting towards them all. “Though, regardless, we are all new leaders,” she concludes. “And whatever circumstances brought us to now are in the past, lets think to the future of our Courts,” she says with a smile, even if behind it, she aches for the kings and queens of old that she once knew. “There is nothing to be done about it now but press onwards.”

@Ira @Andras @Adonai
hey, boys <3
Code by rallidae
picture by cannon