ISORATH
There is no denying the nostalgic pang in his chest, beneath the wounds that had marked the story so intimately, for the halls of his homeland. Despite his insatiable appetite for lands and adventures beyond that which was his own, and the sour tang of consequences on his tongue, he had loved the marbled halls of his youth. His life had been filled with memories that burned as warmly as the sun in summer, undeterred by sea breeze and clouded skies, rather than the bitter chill of sorrow. The roaring laughter of his brother, and the sigh of mock exasperation his sister often followed him with. Aesthia's silent yet powerful presence, the unmovable mountain with fierce love in her gaze.
Yet, it had been inevitable, a tapestry woven by time and many hands, that one would grow restless. Bound by chains that bore no physical weight, that did not scar his body as he chafed and rubbed himself raw within their hold. Isorath didn't miss the subtle curl of Reichenbach's lip at his words. "It was not so bad." He offered, an attempt to gently pry the furrow which marred the Sovereign's face. Perhaps the God's had seen it a kind blessing, to have scrubbed his body clean of the scars he had once worn, when he had appeared before them broken and smouldering, his essence crying out into the cosmos to let him begin again. They had washed over him, wiping away the physical marks of a life that would of made him a husk, so that he could look in the mirror and not see the story so deeply written.
Silver glittered brightly against the porcelain of his tines, Isorath's gaze lingered upon it's delicate countenance from beneath starlit hair and snow lashes. Perhaps a line had been crossed, though the myriad of emotions those rose and fell in a squall of moondust and embers would not let him settle on just one. Instead, the demanded him focus on the stallion in front of him, and the gift that shimmered proudly upon his frame.
Stunning.
He can feel the heat beneath his skin spike.
Now no matter where you go, you will take a piece of Calligo and her night sky with you.
And the thorns in his chest constrict around his ribs and his lungs, dressed in gold coins.
"And a reminder that Calligo's realm is a second home, one I'm loathed to ever leave." The sage sighed, a weight settling in his stomach. Leaving seemed impossible, even if it was his duty, there is an end already written in this story. He had promised to go from Court to Court, a wandering star in the night. He hadn't thought of the complexities of emotions, or how each Court might effect him. Calligo and her children had enraptured him, welcomed him — their King cloaked in crow feathers and coins.
Silence radiated comfortably from the Kirin as he listened to Reichenbach, both ears pressed forward as if they would miss the words if they were not. It is his turn to wear the bitter curve on his lips, pulled downward at the idea that once upon a time the stallion beside him had no one. Not the family of crows nor the love of his court. Alone. Skittering along the cobbled pathways and sheltered from the rain in archways.
"I find that hard to believe, I imagine you were so very charming, even as a colt, charming enough to enchant the gold out of noble ears." Isorath quipped with his own musical note of amusement, there one moment and gone the next in time for the next chapter of the story. He's not surprised, after all, it was fitting of Calligo's children to care for one another — her royal chosen more so. "So you not only did you make something for yourself, but others too. A Crow with a heart of gold." If he noticed the darkened aura of the other, it didn't show.
He could see the army training on him, a life on the streets would not have sculpted the Night King in such a way now. No, Warriors were forged in harder stuff, fire and the cold bite of steel. It was sweat and tasting the dirt beneath your hooves, it was choosing to get back up and reignite. Isorath wanted to ask what happened to the merchant and his son, but he hesitated. Were they still around? Or was it just the King and his court of Crows, the warmth of the kind family a distant but fond memory.
Pulled from his spiraling thoughts by the roguish grin and risen brow, as lilac pools flicked from the handsome features to glance over his frame at the mention of scars, over sculpted neck and muscular shoulders before they settled on the flicked ear with a mixture of curiosity and amusement.
Two slits in the ear for stealing, though they'd have taken more if they'd had a chance.
"The King of Thieves caught, I imagine they found themselves quite smug. A good story for the taverns, I imagine." Isorath hummed with a wry grin, head tilted as he eyed the gilded rings for a moment longer, fighting the urge to reach out with his telekenesis and touch them. "It would of been a shame if they had managed to take more, I'm sure many others agree." His mischievous look flashed across his features, wicked and sharp across his scaled visage.
One day, he decided to himself, he would invite Reichenbach to Vectaeryn. Let him marvel in their markets and blend in the shadows beneath their aurora painted sky, watch the handsome lines of his face react to the dragons which danced over the waves. Pearl hooves clicked along in a harmonious song to the strides of the powerful man beside him, eyes dancing to and from stalls and their wears, beguiled by the sweet scent of perfume and the soft looking fabrics on their rolls. He was looking, but not for tea and incense.
Your family...what were their names?
"I have a lot of family, answering that question may take awhile." Isorath mused, the corner of his lips twitched upward. "My elder brother is named Thalsian, after our Great-Great-Grandfather, who burned half of Lohiran when their King kidnapped his daughter. Then there is my younger sister Sabine, she's quite the potions and poisons master and my mother King Aesthia...and then you have all my cousins." The last part is uttered with a pleasant but exasperated laugh. "There is Vaella, Cetaphina, Sethius, Solvarin, Danarius, Tessaria and Valhail. Our home was never quiet, not between all of us and the dragons. We would dive off the towers to pass the time, and sneak away into the city rather than take our lessons. Our carers spent most of their times looking for us than anything else." His eyes glittered as he listed them, a hundred memories coming and going with each name tenderly spoken. "I miss them."
At last, he spied the stall he had glimpsed in passing as he'd hurried back to the comfort of the Court's high walls and roaring fires. Familiarity poured out of each of the wares, and pointedly he ignored the gaze of the merchant who stared at the Kirin in a mixture of awe and something else he'd rather not linger on, but his discomfort raised the glimmering scales on his back, made his skin itch rather than flush. Eventually he spied what he was looking for, teke grasping at the delicate earring to turn it in his delicate hold. Shaped in the motif of a dragon, with bright silver eyes. "Your coins...where did you get them? I have never not seen them upon you."
TAG: @Reichenbach — now it's my turn to definitely be late on a reply. IM SO SORRY <3
There is no denying the nostalgic pang in his chest, beneath the wounds that had marked the story so intimately, for the halls of his homeland. Despite his insatiable appetite for lands and adventures beyond that which was his own, and the sour tang of consequences on his tongue, he had loved the marbled halls of his youth. His life had been filled with memories that burned as warmly as the sun in summer, undeterred by sea breeze and clouded skies, rather than the bitter chill of sorrow. The roaring laughter of his brother, and the sigh of mock exasperation his sister often followed him with. Aesthia's silent yet powerful presence, the unmovable mountain with fierce love in her gaze.
Yet, it had been inevitable, a tapestry woven by time and many hands, that one would grow restless. Bound by chains that bore no physical weight, that did not scar his body as he chafed and rubbed himself raw within their hold. Isorath didn't miss the subtle curl of Reichenbach's lip at his words. "It was not so bad." He offered, an attempt to gently pry the furrow which marred the Sovereign's face. Perhaps the God's had seen it a kind blessing, to have scrubbed his body clean of the scars he had once worn, when he had appeared before them broken and smouldering, his essence crying out into the cosmos to let him begin again. They had washed over him, wiping away the physical marks of a life that would of made him a husk, so that he could look in the mirror and not see the story so deeply written.
Silver glittered brightly against the porcelain of his tines, Isorath's gaze lingered upon it's delicate countenance from beneath starlit hair and snow lashes. Perhaps a line had been crossed, though the myriad of emotions those rose and fell in a squall of moondust and embers would not let him settle on just one. Instead, the demanded him focus on the stallion in front of him, and the gift that shimmered proudly upon his frame.
Stunning.
He can feel the heat beneath his skin spike.
Now no matter where you go, you will take a piece of Calligo and her night sky with you.
And the thorns in his chest constrict around his ribs and his lungs, dressed in gold coins.
"And a reminder that Calligo's realm is a second home, one I'm loathed to ever leave." The sage sighed, a weight settling in his stomach. Leaving seemed impossible, even if it was his duty, there is an end already written in this story. He had promised to go from Court to Court, a wandering star in the night. He hadn't thought of the complexities of emotions, or how each Court might effect him. Calligo and her children had enraptured him, welcomed him — their King cloaked in crow feathers and coins.
Silence radiated comfortably from the Kirin as he listened to Reichenbach, both ears pressed forward as if they would miss the words if they were not. It is his turn to wear the bitter curve on his lips, pulled downward at the idea that once upon a time the stallion beside him had no one. Not the family of crows nor the love of his court. Alone. Skittering along the cobbled pathways and sheltered from the rain in archways.
"I find that hard to believe, I imagine you were so very charming, even as a colt, charming enough to enchant the gold out of noble ears." Isorath quipped with his own musical note of amusement, there one moment and gone the next in time for the next chapter of the story. He's not surprised, after all, it was fitting of Calligo's children to care for one another — her royal chosen more so. "So you not only did you make something for yourself, but others too. A Crow with a heart of gold." If he noticed the darkened aura of the other, it didn't show.
He could see the army training on him, a life on the streets would not have sculpted the Night King in such a way now. No, Warriors were forged in harder stuff, fire and the cold bite of steel. It was sweat and tasting the dirt beneath your hooves, it was choosing to get back up and reignite. Isorath wanted to ask what happened to the merchant and his son, but he hesitated. Were they still around? Or was it just the King and his court of Crows, the warmth of the kind family a distant but fond memory.
Pulled from his spiraling thoughts by the roguish grin and risen brow, as lilac pools flicked from the handsome features to glance over his frame at the mention of scars, over sculpted neck and muscular shoulders before they settled on the flicked ear with a mixture of curiosity and amusement.
Two slits in the ear for stealing, though they'd have taken more if they'd had a chance.
"The King of Thieves caught, I imagine they found themselves quite smug. A good story for the taverns, I imagine." Isorath hummed with a wry grin, head tilted as he eyed the gilded rings for a moment longer, fighting the urge to reach out with his telekenesis and touch them. "It would of been a shame if they had managed to take more, I'm sure many others agree." His mischievous look flashed across his features, wicked and sharp across his scaled visage.
One day, he decided to himself, he would invite Reichenbach to Vectaeryn. Let him marvel in their markets and blend in the shadows beneath their aurora painted sky, watch the handsome lines of his face react to the dragons which danced over the waves. Pearl hooves clicked along in a harmonious song to the strides of the powerful man beside him, eyes dancing to and from stalls and their wears, beguiled by the sweet scent of perfume and the soft looking fabrics on their rolls. He was looking, but not for tea and incense.
Your family...what were their names?
"I have a lot of family, answering that question may take awhile." Isorath mused, the corner of his lips twitched upward. "My elder brother is named Thalsian, after our Great-Great-Grandfather, who burned half of Lohiran when their King kidnapped his daughter. Then there is my younger sister Sabine, she's quite the potions and poisons master and my mother King Aesthia...and then you have all my cousins." The last part is uttered with a pleasant but exasperated laugh. "There is Vaella, Cetaphina, Sethius, Solvarin, Danarius, Tessaria and Valhail. Our home was never quiet, not between all of us and the dragons. We would dive off the towers to pass the time, and sneak away into the city rather than take our lessons. Our carers spent most of their times looking for us than anything else." His eyes glittered as he listed them, a hundred memories coming and going with each name tenderly spoken. "I miss them."
At last, he spied the stall he had glimpsed in passing as he'd hurried back to the comfort of the Court's high walls and roaring fires. Familiarity poured out of each of the wares, and pointedly he ignored the gaze of the merchant who stared at the Kirin in a mixture of awe and something else he'd rather not linger on, but his discomfort raised the glimmering scales on his back, made his skin itch rather than flush. Eventually he spied what he was looking for, teke grasping at the delicate earring to turn it in his delicate hold. Shaped in the motif of a dragon, with bright silver eyes. "Your coins...where did you get them? I have never not seen them upon you."
TAG: @Reichenbach — now it's my turn to definitely be late on a reply. IM SO SORRY <3
