![[Image: rhosheader.jpg]](https://image.ibb.co/ikNXOm/rhosheader.jpg)
Rhoswen ►
Sleep had been playing games with her. It was an infuriatingly elusive thread that slipped all too quickly from her grasp, tracing gossamer circles over and over again until the sunlit woman could lay in her bedchamber no longer. Air billowed from her lungs, balmy against the bite of a winter eve, and she watched absently as the clouds of her breath bloomed into the aphotic radiance of night. From behind grey, moonlike eyes Rhoswen glanced about her room, feeling small beside such an enormous silence. Memories of a childhood bathed in eye-wrinkling smiles and booming laughter came hurtling through the floodgates of her mind; oh, nostalgia was a deceptive star - glittering brighter in death than it ever had in life - for it was all too easy to forget the bleaker segments of ones past when looking back upon it. Still, there had been fragments of a stainless happiness here that, to the red-haired girl, seemed to have outrun her ever since. How could Denocte have been both a haven and a prison? She shuddered, burying her intrinsic disorientation six feet under, again. What hands did it posses to claw back up to the surface with?
With a shake of her long auburn curls, and a lifting of cheekbones carved from ruby glass, Solis' daughter slipped out into the halls of Caligo's castle. It was not often she elected to traverse the night, preferring instead to avoid it with a burning resentment and Rhos could not help but curse Raum for besetting her with a reason to keep her from the sweet embrace of dream. Scoffing, she pictured his satisfaction glimmering behind a smooth grin - he could have wanted for nothing more.
Up stairs and along corridors she meandered, pausing every so often to peer out of the windows which soared great heights up to higher ceilings. The moon smiled at Rhoswen, but Rhoswen did not smile back. They were not friends, not now. The woman wondered what her brother was up to; after their meeting the day prior he had disappeared off into the shadows, and had not been seen since. Reich had changed, startlingly so. Rhos recalled a boy with a mischievous chuckle and swift hands, all the better for poking her in the ribs with. Her brothers hadn't been soft on her, and she had loved them for it - a girl with a heart so blisteringly lupine could never have been treated any less. Now, however, that impish gypsy boy seemed quite suddenly timeworn as though the crown had aged him a thousand years. Different, different.
Rhos continued on, with a head that swam with fatigue and a shade of blue she could not seem to shake. It was as the Solterran paused at the top of a grandiose flight of stairs leading down to Denocte's great hall that she spied her: a woman with milk-tipped edges and skin the colour of a starlit bruise. Stormborne eyes narrowed as she tried to recall just who this winged Denoctian should be; the name evading her, holding hands with the sleep which danced, also, out of her reach. Rhoswen frowned, frustrated and tired, as every pregnant woman just happens to be. Down, down, down she called with a voice that echoed deftly into the darkness - "I'd say good evening, but so far it has been anything but." Slowly, Rhos descended the stone steps until she levelled beside the blue-eyed beauty, glancing her over once more.
With a shake of her long auburn curls, and a lifting of cheekbones carved from ruby glass, Solis' daughter slipped out into the halls of Caligo's castle. It was not often she elected to traverse the night, preferring instead to avoid it with a burning resentment and Rhos could not help but curse Raum for besetting her with a reason to keep her from the sweet embrace of dream. Scoffing, she pictured his satisfaction glimmering behind a smooth grin - he could have wanted for nothing more.
Up stairs and along corridors she meandered, pausing every so often to peer out of the windows which soared great heights up to higher ceilings. The moon smiled at Rhoswen, but Rhoswen did not smile back. They were not friends, not now. The woman wondered what her brother was up to; after their meeting the day prior he had disappeared off into the shadows, and had not been seen since. Reich had changed, startlingly so. Rhos recalled a boy with a mischievous chuckle and swift hands, all the better for poking her in the ribs with. Her brothers hadn't been soft on her, and she had loved them for it - a girl with a heart so blisteringly lupine could never have been treated any less. Now, however, that impish gypsy boy seemed quite suddenly timeworn as though the crown had aged him a thousand years. Different, different.
Rhos continued on, with a head that swam with fatigue and a shade of blue she could not seem to shake. It was as the Solterran paused at the top of a grandiose flight of stairs leading down to Denocte's great hall that she spied her: a woman with milk-tipped edges and skin the colour of a starlit bruise. Stormborne eyes narrowed as she tried to recall just who this winged Denoctian should be; the name evading her, holding hands with the sleep which danced, also, out of her reach. Rhoswen frowned, frustrated and tired, as every pregnant woman just happens to be. Down, down, down she called with a voice that echoed deftly into the darkness - "I'd say good evening, but so far it has been anything but." Slowly, Rhos descended the stone steps until she levelled beside the blue-eyed beauty, glancing her over once more.
@Aislinn ~loves~ (P.S: I don't think Rhos knew of Ash when she was in the court, I believe she might have left before Ash joined)
