By the light of candles and starsong, the world shifts and dances like the flames licking the walls in their sconces. High above they watch like sentient shadows that never leave these isles. Ah, and among the dust motes and forgotten passages she moves, she sways, she breathes into the stillness and exhales life with every step. Broken wings can be mended, but broken souls are much harder to fix. Isra is a gallant Empress, and the sun-blessed girl is determined to help in any way possible.
Of course, that does not mean she cannot have a reprieve. Retreating into the ancient corners long since abandoned in the library halls, she rests in a pile of books on a nest of old scarves, tattered remnants of drapes long since fallen, and who knows what other horrors beneath her. It is almost as cozy as the chaise from the Estate...it almost feels like home.
So much happened in the previous days, the phoenix did not expect to hear from any outside of the Night Court's borders other than Dusk. Bodies were funneling into the streets to fill them with life (if not weary beings) once more after the disasters. While joy soars in her heart, there is also trepidation and weariness. Not meant for the crowds, the many faces peering at her, leering at her, whispering at every corner of the horrors that this gypsy home might hold, she seeks to help them from a distance. Buried within the books on plants of this land, creatures who could hold cures, and much lighter novels on prominent figures in the Courts, Moira Tonnerre does not expect the tapping at the window. It is all but drowned out with the low humming that fills the candlelit area. All too soon the crow is on the table she should be at, glaring at her with an adamancy that demands she respond.
Delight sparks in those honey eyes as she looks over him. Not as large as the others, and only a single eye, but a fine creature nonetheless. There is spirit in him, she can feel it with every chirrup. Shaking out sore muscles, the woman rises from her nest to join him. A small smile rests on carmine lips as she listens and listens, only letting out the sigh as silence rings true once more. "I wish I could understand you, my friend. What stories you must know from other places !" With that, she graciously accepts the letter and lays it upon the table.
Hungry are the eyes that read it; soon they turn into a soft, simmering amber that shimmers with unshed tears and unspoken joy. Immediately she turns, looking to the crow while nearly prancing out of her skin.
"I must reply at once, of course. Please... Please wait here while I fetch supplies and food for you." Bounding down the isle, a great wave of dust stirs from the ground as she leaves.
Within minutes Moira returns, a small parcel of bread and bowl of water float to the table where the messenger sits, and opposite him her paper falls with ink and quill at the ready.
Pacing but a moment, she begins to write...
My dearest Eik,
Supplies are low here, have you heard of the waters that threatened to drown us? We're safe, mostly, and the wounded have been cared for. Those that are still healing hurt dearly for all we have lost, but we are strong and will rebuild. May I send you jasmine when we have recovered? Knowing you sleep poorly is heavy on the mind, but knowing you think of me so fondly is a blessing that helps ease it.
I have not been outside of the Court since before the storms and disasters, what's befallen Solterra? Are you alright?
I send this with you at the forefront of my mind, and in hopes that you rest easy knowing I am as well as can be. Tell me where to meet you, and I'll go as soon as possible.
Or you could come to Denocte ! We are not so broken that your charming company would be unwelcome. Send word with your decision when convenient.
With love,
Moira Tonnerre.
Blowing on it until dry, she smiles at the words on the page and pulls the flowers he sent near to smell them. They are delicious and nothing like what grows in Denocte - delicate, yet hardier than those she's seen here. Quickly the letter is sealed and she looks to the crow. "Rest for the night if you wish, there is room for many in these ancient halls, I do not think I would mind the company. When you are ready, my friend, would you deliver this to the man that sent you?" And with that, she ties the parcel about the crow's ankle, returns to her pile of blankets, and gently nudges a smaller area for the crow to join if he wishes.
@Eik ; you slay me <3
Of course, that does not mean she cannot have a reprieve. Retreating into the ancient corners long since abandoned in the library halls, she rests in a pile of books on a nest of old scarves, tattered remnants of drapes long since fallen, and who knows what other horrors beneath her. It is almost as cozy as the chaise from the Estate...it almost feels like home.
So much happened in the previous days, the phoenix did not expect to hear from any outside of the Night Court's borders other than Dusk. Bodies were funneling into the streets to fill them with life (if not weary beings) once more after the disasters. While joy soars in her heart, there is also trepidation and weariness. Not meant for the crowds, the many faces peering at her, leering at her, whispering at every corner of the horrors that this gypsy home might hold, she seeks to help them from a distance. Buried within the books on plants of this land, creatures who could hold cures, and much lighter novels on prominent figures in the Courts, Moira Tonnerre does not expect the tapping at the window. It is all but drowned out with the low humming that fills the candlelit area. All too soon the crow is on the table she should be at, glaring at her with an adamancy that demands she respond.
Delight sparks in those honey eyes as she looks over him. Not as large as the others, and only a single eye, but a fine creature nonetheless. There is spirit in him, she can feel it with every chirrup. Shaking out sore muscles, the woman rises from her nest to join him. A small smile rests on carmine lips as she listens and listens, only letting out the sigh as silence rings true once more. "I wish I could understand you, my friend. What stories you must know from other places !" With that, she graciously accepts the letter and lays it upon the table.
Hungry are the eyes that read it; soon they turn into a soft, simmering amber that shimmers with unshed tears and unspoken joy. Immediately she turns, looking to the crow while nearly prancing out of her skin.
"I must reply at once, of course. Please... Please wait here while I fetch supplies and food for you." Bounding down the isle, a great wave of dust stirs from the ground as she leaves.
Within minutes Moira returns, a small parcel of bread and bowl of water float to the table where the messenger sits, and opposite him her paper falls with ink and quill at the ready.
Pacing but a moment, she begins to write...
Supplies are low here, have you heard of the waters that threatened to drown us? We're safe, mostly, and the wounded have been cared for. Those that are still healing hurt dearly for all we have lost, but we are strong and will rebuild. May I send you jasmine when we have recovered? Knowing you sleep poorly is heavy on the mind, but knowing you think of me so fondly is a blessing that helps ease it.
I have not been outside of the Court since before the storms and disasters, what's befallen Solterra? Are you alright?
I send this with you at the forefront of my mind, and in hopes that you rest easy knowing I am as well as can be. Tell me where to meet you, and I'll go as soon as possible.
Or you could come to Denocte ! We are not so broken that your charming company would be unwelcome. Send word with your decision when convenient.
With love,
Moira Tonnerre.
Blowing on it until dry, she smiles at the words on the page and pulls the flowers he sent near to smell them. They are delicious and nothing like what grows in Denocte - delicate, yet hardier than those she's seen here. Quickly the letter is sealed and she looks to the crow. "Rest for the night if you wish, there is room for many in these ancient halls, I do not think I would mind the company. When you are ready, my friend, would you deliver this to the man that sent you?" And with that, she ties the parcel about the crow's ankle, returns to her pile of blankets, and gently nudges a smaller area for the crow to join if he wishes.
@
