KASIL
Where autumn’s wind had been a kiss, the winter chill that enveloped the lands was a bite. With each breath, he felt the sharp nips of icy teeth tear into his very soul and threatening to consume him because she was hungry for his warmth. Winter had stalked the lands like a wolf, her hunting song echoing in the dark just beyond their senses until the moment to strike became abundantly clear. Now it was far too late to escape her jaws. Frost clung to his lashes and the very tips of his golden-brown feathers, unable to be banished by the fading rays of sunlight that had begun to abandon the craggly rocks of the cliffs. The king of scrolls turned his eye towards the setting sun, as Terrastella welcomed home her namesake -- the vibrant hues of honey-mead, mulberry and sanguine basking over the cliffs and straight on to the stark column that marked the very center of the court. His breath was a curl of smoke from his nares, wafting away until it disappeared as silently as it had left him.
With a meticulousness, the Dawn King began to draw the stretched expanse of his wings back against his body as he looked away from the fading light. It had been so long since he had been here last, not a day since he had become a sovereign. It filled with with an unspeakable sadness to have been away so long, yet there was joy in finding that he had returned at all and that he had managed to make it just before the sun was passed into Caligo’s embrace for the evening. He took slow, mincing steps across the uneven surface of the cliffs -- the wind’s song whistling in his ear and drowning the roar of the crashing waves below. His mind turned idly to the cliffs, wondering just how long the would continue to stand against such an unrelenting foe like the sea. Far longer than he would, he supposed.
A rueful smile twisted his lips just as a large droplet of snow hurried across his path. He raised his amber gaze, the golden diadem catching the final glint of the sun’s rays. Snow? He pondered, wondering if it was a good or bad omen to have such fat flakes falling from the sky this early into the winter season. And on his day of birth, no less. The snow began to drop rapidly around him, dusting his thick mahogany coat with a blanket of ivory. The first few had melted against his skin, drawn in by the internal warmth of his body -- but it was falling so swiftly now that they began to build, conquering him. He chuckled, the sound low and melodious.
By the time that he arrived at Terrastella’s heart, he was completely covered in a thick blanket of the stuff. The citadel was bustling, no doubt in full swing for the festival. He had missed the autumnal festival of Dawn’s Court because of his pilgrimage to altars of the gods, so he was curious to see just how everyone was preparing. He shook the snow from his form just before the gates, his feet leaving the hard crunch of the snowy outside world and into the clear paths of the court. His head tilted in curiosity once he saw all of the finely crafted pottery, artists taking posts to paint various designs on the bodies of others. How curious, he thought, his scholarly instincts clicking in as he took steps closer still to investigate.
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