“The only true borders lie between day and night, between life and death, between hope and loss.”
Time comes for more than one in Denocte.
The night before Caligo awakes, Ira's father dies. Tempus, in his own right, had been knocking—and the old man of Time does not wait for anyone. The eve before Caligo summons her Court of worshipers, Ira rests at his father bedside. He listens as the old man’s breaths grow heavier, and heavier, and then so heavy the breaths cease to rise.
Ira had known this was coming. He had known, the way one knows winter will come or the sun will rise. He had known.
But the knowing did not prevent the sorrow, or the complicated rise of emotions the death brings. The emotions that he, in this moment, refuses to acknowledge.
The day before Caligo descends, Ira burns his father’s body on the beach facing east, where they had sailed from. The headwind blows the ashes out into the sea. Ira imagines that they are blowing much further, back to their homeland.
Not their homeland.
Ira’s father’s homeland.
He closes his eyes, and he breathes. The wind comes in, and he listens to the trees beyond the coast, the way they whisper. The Arma Mountains overshadow this cove beyond Denocte’s docks; and once the fire has all died, and the tide comes in to wash the pyre’s remains away, Ira leaves to return to his city.
(He tries not to acknowledge the relief that overcomes him. The relief that, at last, at last, he might live his life as he wanted to. Not his father’s son, the heir to his legacy—but as Ira, Ira, Ira).
— — —
Ira could not know when Caligo dropped from the sky. He could not know when her statues melted from stone to flesh and blood; or the way that she stood so tall she might have well touched the sky again. Caligo did not descend; she only rose.
He could not know any of these things.
But he could know the way his heart stirred in his breast, that incomprehensible sixth sense everyone feels at some point in their lives. Ira feels this often, in the woods; when there is a particular path he ought to follow, or ought to avoid.
He feels this tingling apprehension again, now. But he feels it in Denocte, walking down the cobblestone streets.
The child of dread, and elation.
He becomes the marionette to the puppeteer of fate. His legs move, almost without his control. Ira finds his way to the Court’s center, to hear the boom of Caligo’s voice. Denoctians, Morrighan is no more. The sound of her voice makes him feel closer to, to--to being more.
Ira does not express surprise, despite the shock that fills him. Perhaps he is too overcome by awe; to stare at the goddess nearly makes him blind. She has been killed, and I cannot tell you how or why. What I must ask you instead: who will step up and prove themselves worthy to fill the void left by her?
First, Cicatrix steps forward. Their words are heartfelt; they speak of home, and Ira echos those sentiments in his own mind. Then, Araxes, a face he has seen many times. Next, a foreigner he does not know, who offers to serve. Finally, Renwick steps forward: and the words he speaks remind Ira, inexplicably, of his father. There will be a time, he knows, to speak with them all; and somewhere he understands there can only be one. He feels no disdain for them, no sense of competition; only a hope that they might all strive toward a common goal.
Ira waits for the rise of voices to die down, for the speakers to pause. He waits in the silence between breaths, and then he steps forward as well. He comes from the rear of the crowd, quietly and with care.
“Goddess, you offered me sanctuary when I was only a boy. I remember little of my home before; only Denocte, and I owe this Court everything.” Ira glances at those who stand besides him; he takes careful note of all those within the crowd. He turns, then, to face them fully. To face not their goddess, but the citizens he has shared his live with.
“I would pledge to do the same for Denocte. To return what has been given to me: opportunity. For growth. For strength. For progress.”
Ira realizes, with his heart beating strangely in his ears, the strange duality between this moment and his father’s dreams for him.
“If we had stayed—if we had stayed, you would have kept your birth name. Kierlan Shayscer. You would have been brave, and bright—and you would have stepped forward to be a leader of men. If only—if only the war hadn’t come. If only everything hadn’t changed.”
He had always resented his father, for that. For his refusal to accept the change, to see it for the blessing it was: and Ira turns back to Caligo now, with eyes bright as moonstones.
"Let me help rebuild, goddess."
The night before Caligo awakes, Ira's father dies. Tempus, in his own right, had been knocking—and the old man of Time does not wait for anyone. The eve before Caligo summons her Court of worshipers, Ira rests at his father bedside. He listens as the old man’s breaths grow heavier, and heavier, and then so heavy the breaths cease to rise.
Ira had known this was coming. He had known, the way one knows winter will come or the sun will rise. He had known.
But the knowing did not prevent the sorrow, or the complicated rise of emotions the death brings. The emotions that he, in this moment, refuses to acknowledge.
The day before Caligo descends, Ira burns his father’s body on the beach facing east, where they had sailed from. The headwind blows the ashes out into the sea. Ira imagines that they are blowing much further, back to their homeland.
Not their homeland.
Ira’s father’s homeland.
He closes his eyes, and he breathes. The wind comes in, and he listens to the trees beyond the coast, the way they whisper. The Arma Mountains overshadow this cove beyond Denocte’s docks; and once the fire has all died, and the tide comes in to wash the pyre’s remains away, Ira leaves to return to his city.
(He tries not to acknowledge the relief that overcomes him. The relief that, at last, at last, he might live his life as he wanted to. Not his father’s son, the heir to his legacy—but as Ira, Ira, Ira).
Ira could not know when Caligo dropped from the sky. He could not know when her statues melted from stone to flesh and blood; or the way that she stood so tall she might have well touched the sky again. Caligo did not descend; she only rose.
He could not know any of these things.
But he could know the way his heart stirred in his breast, that incomprehensible sixth sense everyone feels at some point in their lives. Ira feels this often, in the woods; when there is a particular path he ought to follow, or ought to avoid.
He feels this tingling apprehension again, now. But he feels it in Denocte, walking down the cobblestone streets.
The child of dread, and elation.
He becomes the marionette to the puppeteer of fate. His legs move, almost without his control. Ira finds his way to the Court’s center, to hear the boom of Caligo’s voice. Denoctians, Morrighan is no more. The sound of her voice makes him feel closer to, to--to being more.
Ira does not express surprise, despite the shock that fills him. Perhaps he is too overcome by awe; to stare at the goddess nearly makes him blind. She has been killed, and I cannot tell you how or why. What I must ask you instead: who will step up and prove themselves worthy to fill the void left by her?
First, Cicatrix steps forward. Their words are heartfelt; they speak of home, and Ira echos those sentiments in his own mind. Then, Araxes, a face he has seen many times. Next, a foreigner he does not know, who offers to serve. Finally, Renwick steps forward: and the words he speaks remind Ira, inexplicably, of his father. There will be a time, he knows, to speak with them all; and somewhere he understands there can only be one. He feels no disdain for them, no sense of competition; only a hope that they might all strive toward a common goal.
Ira waits for the rise of voices to die down, for the speakers to pause. He waits in the silence between breaths, and then he steps forward as well. He comes from the rear of the crowd, quietly and with care.
“Goddess, you offered me sanctuary when I was only a boy. I remember little of my home before; only Denocte, and I owe this Court everything.” Ira glances at those who stand besides him; he takes careful note of all those within the crowd. He turns, then, to face them fully. To face not their goddess, but the citizens he has shared his live with.
“I would pledge to do the same for Denocte. To return what has been given to me: opportunity. For growth. For strength. For progress.”
Ira realizes, with his heart beating strangely in his ears, the strange duality between this moment and his father’s dreams for him.
“If we had stayed—if we had stayed, you would have kept your birth name. Kierlan Shayscer. You would have been brave, and bright—and you would have stepped forward to be a leader of men. If only—if only the war hadn’t come. If only everything hadn’t changed.”
He had always resented his father, for that. For his refusal to accept the change, to see it for the blessing it was: and Ira turns back to Caligo now, with eyes bright as moonstones.
"Let me help rebuild, goddess."
@tag / speaks / notes
About the RPer
Syndicate
23
Yes, I have! Both on and off site. Here, I was Solterra's Sovereign, and that's my most recent experience in a position of power. I loved the sense of community you get from being a Sovereign, and the ability you have to facilitate ideas and encourage members in your court. Unfortunately, the last time I was Sovereign I had a number of in real life issues come up and I simply could not dedicate the time or energy to the position. That said, I learned a tremendous amount about planning and prioritization.
Yes!
I have always loved Novus. This site, more than any other, has left a tremendous impact on me. There have been a lot of events recently that have been very difficult for everyone involved, and I feel an obligation (one I am very excited/motivated by) to help rebuild the Courts! That said, I am most excited (and will be forever excited) about the community and positivity found in Novus.
Sovereign Questions
Ira certainly needs developing, which I hope to achieve through gameplay with him! At the moment, however, he is juxtaposed between being a dutiful son and a young man who wishes to pursue his more true nature, which is wild, wistful, and a little impulsive. I think he demonstrates the ideals of Denocte in that he, like Caligo, was initially an outcast: he was persecuted at a young age in his homeland and found refuge in Novus. His father allowed him to "select" which Court to live in by telling him stories of all the Courts when he was a young boy; and Denocte was the one he returned to, again and again. He is a sensitive young man that hides this sensitivity behind austerity; but hopes to reveal more of it as he leads/progresses ICly. Additionally, I think it's a benefit he's a bit of a "blank slate" for both Denocte and myself, as that means he can invest himself more into the role of Sovereign and building a new identity for the Court moving forward!
I learned, from my last time as Sovereign, the importance of having a strong, active team around you. Ira's first goal as Sovereign would be to identify active members of the court and promote them. That said, a personal goal of mine would be to retire most of my other characters and focus almost solely on developing Ira. I would like for him to thread with every member of the Court, as well as Emissaries of other Courts, and make some fun plots ahead! This link depicts the outline of several ideas I have for IC, seasonal prompts as well as some new Denocte lore!
<3 I love you all
