K A I S A R Too many were often sucked up in the whirling vortex that was could of, should of, would of. The ones that were survivors of their misfortune and mistakes were stronger for it, they understood that it was merely the price to pay for wisdom in this life, for strength and humility. No cost was too high, to have your skin reforged and bones clad in steel. If only those broken by it could understand, he'd stood there too often, at the hooves of the broken and weak. They wailed into the night's silence begging for second chances and do-overs, begged Time to listen to them. How they deserved it. They did not deserve it, he had muttered to them on occasion, judging them with the glacial blue of his right eye. There was no sympathy or honeyed words for them, only the swift judgement of the jury whom watched the guilty with veiled interest. He batted away their dagger like stares with a distinterested flick of his ear, their acid barbs with an apathetic lance of ice. To be tested, and fail — if you did not get up, you were lost. To welcome defeat, or to beg for one last chance was submission to eternal obscurity. They were an interesting pair, side by side. The volatility of the earth's lifeblood against the ethereal veiled essence of the moon on her throne. There were many tales of the Sun & the Moon, their story was much more cosmic in design, fated to the eternal duty of divine immortality. There were always comparisons made to them, but what of the Earth and the Moon? Each had secrets, the moon had her velvet cloak pulled tight, and the Earth had his deep places untouched by light. Romance was not needed in those tales, no sugared and carefully woven words spoken from wistful lips and reflected in doe eyes. Kaisar made sure the pace was leisured, a stroll through the grounds as though they had been there since time began, each hoof that caressed the stone having done so for countless nights and even more years than grains in the hourglass. "There are many ranks, if you do not wish to simply enjoy the fruits of our Court." There is an appraising glint in his eye, while he did not judge harshly those who preferred to let others take the World on their shoulders, there always had to be the commonfolk to serve, there was undeniable favoritism to those who took up the mantle. "There are four paths currently, our Sages often converge in the library tower, writing our stories into history and uncovering those lost, they are lead by our champion, Araxes." Deliberately pausing to let it sink in before he continued. "Next we have our champion of battle, Aislinn, who leads the Warriors and the defense of our lands. Seree, is the one who teaches the way of the healing arts and finally, there is Lyra, who sees to the day to day lives of the rest." He could see her as a Sage, surrounded by leather bound tomes inked with foreign words, the sweet smell of incense clinging to her coat — or a Healer. Brightly coloured potions glinting in the moonlight at her side, the rich and bitter smell of herbs floating after her. Unless she was a warrioress at heart, those scars she wore in subtle strokes gained in battle rather than misfortune, the angel turned valkyrie. "The pleasure is mine." His eyes followed hers as she glanced around their home, how different was it from her old one? Had it been totally barren, untouched by master crafters and their grand designs? At her comment of his warrior roots being obvious, he uttered a laugh. "I was not always solely a Warrior." The stallion admitted with a flick of his tail. "Before this I was an advisor in my nephew's court, and my brother before him. These scars have been gotten at the expanse of another's wounded pride trying to repair itself, not many like being outplayed." Kaisar admitted with a sly smirk, he had lost track of how many had shattered beneath his carefully laid plans, scrambling and screaming to reclaim some of that lost pride. Do you have a patron deity? "Calligo. Goddess of the Night." While his tone is mostly neutral, there is a hint of fondness there. Who could not love the divine underdog, who had endured and eventually broke under the scrunity of her purer equals. "She is a demi-god, born to a mortal mother. Her siblings were not so fond of that, or her domain — and they paid for it. Their prejudice and bias tore apart the godly pantheon." He stilled in front of one of the osidian statues glinting in the fires, the pale diamonds glinting like stars. "Our Sages know more of the Stories many details, as well as the other Gods. There is another Sage visiting from the Dusk Court who can tell you more of their Goddess if you want to delve deeper into the other courts." Kaisar explained with a roll of a muscular shoulder. "We are in the Great Hall, here is where most of us hold Court with Reichenbach, as well as hold our parties. To the left," he punctuated with a nod of his crowned head, "is the stairs that will lead to the library, and the right, toward the apartments which house some of us." Grand indeed, the thick tapestries which hung from the wall were woven luxuriously, and the faint scent of incense from foreign lands lingered in the air. There was a warmth to it, a familial kind which radiated despite the darkness that the light did not chase away. "Those are the two most important, which would you like to see first? We can view the Gardens, Kitchens and Dungeons if you prefer afterward." "kaisar talks" TAG: @ |
