It wasn't often that Corr found herself outside of the Dusk Court lands, especially with the season newly changing to winter. Traveling became harder with the bitter cold temperatures and the snow on its way to gather on the ground. Her cloak didn't do a whole lot for the extreme cold, but she wore it around her today just in case. Thankfully the temperature didn't drop down too much yet so she could walk on without much trouble.
The moon lit their path as they left the comfort of the swamp. Her destination was unknown, but she had holed herself in her house for a few days straight and needed to get some fresh air. Surprisingly, Hāsta agreed and followed along a few feet above her, wings gently flapping in the wind. Maybe they could gather some extra supplies while they were out. After all, you could never have too much in the life of a healer.
Corr heard the caw before she saw it- Hāsta was drawing her attention to the steppe ahead. It took a moment for the mare to see what the bird saw, but when she did, her jaw dropped.
Something strange was happening. There was a field of flowers where they were headed and it was all right in the middle of the steppe.
"How could this be? It's the start of winter. It has to be some kind of special magic," she said, looking up at Hāsta. It was baffling.
"I don't trust it," the crow said through their telepathy. For once, her negativity was not out of line. This was a very mysterious and suspicious sight. They would need to be cautious.
"We should turn around," Hāsta suggested, her telepathic tone wavering.
"I don't think there's any harm in taking a quick look. There has to be a reason that this is all here, right? And don't you feel that?" Corr replied with a smile. This was indeed the work of magic, she could feel it and hear it all around her. This was the most energy she had found within the air since coming to Novus and the need to study it was overwhelming.
Though, there was always that saying that curiosity killed the cat. Now they would have to find out how it felt about a horse and a crow.
@Random Events (please oh please roll a 3 -prayer hands-)
***STAFF EDIT
@Corrdelia has rolled a 6! She has been awarded +150 signos for interacting with the flowers.
Autumn breezes toyed with the flowers, sending them in a melody of song as gemstones tinged together. It was a sound which was unlike anything this world had heard before, a symphony which echoed over Bellum Steppe with a curious sort of tone. It is not this sound though, which draws Azrael in. Instead, the shed-star had followed the northern star, far from his home in Denocte, far from Caligo’s watch and toward the strange phenomenon, rather unknowingly. Had he of known of such a glorious sight though, he would have found his way here, drawn toward it like a moth to the flame.
As he nears the field of sparkling flowers, he begins to see a shock of color on the hillside. Faceted faces rose to meet the sunlight, and it glowed from each blossom in an otherworldly light. Entranced, he had to know more, creeping closer until he found himself engulfed in the rainbow of flowers around him. Azrael was clearly delighted, a wide smile crossing his face as his lips brushed against the delicate blossoms, and he barely resisted the urge to drop to his knees and roll in the beautiful field. Holding back, he simply touched as many as possible, picking one delicate stem and weaving it into his mane for safekeeping, unable to resist.
For the rest of the day, the male stayed in the field, watching with pleasure as others arrived and stumbled onto the splendor much as he had. He watched the smiles and bright joy that crossed their faces, touched with a warmth that could only be brought on by the magic of this world. As the sun began to set, there is only a hint of sadness in him, as Azrael turned his face once more toward the stars and wished the world of flowers adieu, making his way back to Delumine with joy in his heart.
The battle field calls to her, it beckons her like a lost child in search of her mother. Her first experience upon the battlefield was not the outcome she had intended, but it had been practice for what she knew would come later. So many things had happened since her battle with Asterion. So many things were different and other things changing just as quickly as she breathes. And yet, the battlefield has always been a safe haven for Katniss, something that calms her spirits and eases her mind when she finds it hard to focus and think.
But as her steps draw closer to the Steppe, she can hear the soft calling of music. It is a strange sound to hear, almost as though there is a fanfare that is welcoming her. But Katniss is weary. Something doesn’t seem quite right and it causes her to be suspicious of what lies ahead.
As she steps onto the fields of battle, her eyes travel over a large patch of wild flowers that she doesn’t remember ever being there. They move and sway to the rhythm of the music and although it is soothing, she is cautious.
As the wild flowers engulf her legs, she can feel the way they harshly brush against her legs. They are hard, formed from a material that is not plant matter at all. Head dips lower and she eyes the flowers carefully and takes note of the way they appear. It is almost as if these flowers are diamonds, and emeralds, and amethysts. They come in all colors, of gemstones she does not recognize. These are unnatural. Magic is at play. And while she should welcome the feeling of magic, she cannot help but think that these flowers are a bad omen to come.
The traveler has left the Day Court in search of something more. It’s hot in the desert and the heat is suffocating. Perhaps what is more suffocating is the way the inhabitants cry for their fallen queen. The way they all lead with their emotions is something that has disgusted the mare from the moment she set foot in Solterra. The only breath of fresh air had been the new king. While she might not like to admit such a thing, she found him intriguing. And better yet, she found that his methods were appealing. HE was creating chaos and she was loving every minute of it.
And yet, she was searching for more.
She begins her exploration of this new land by heading south, beyond the southern boarders of the Day Court. She travels through the mountains until she comes upon the Steppe. It is here that she sees the figure of several others who have come to pay homage to the magic that seems to welcome them. They are captivated by the wild flowers that grow within the Steppe and they are entranced by the music that flows through the wind. Targwyn, however, is cautious. She has seen magic like this. It’s young, unpredictable. She does not step too close for she has no idea what this magic is or who has summoned it.
Instead, she comes to stand just on the outer rim of the flowers, her eyes peering down at the petals. Something about them is not right, the way they bend and move like real flora, but they are jagged and sharp as if they are made from the toughest diamonds. She extends her leg to brush against the flowers, the sharpened edge cutting through her skin like a sharpened knife. But she does not flinch. Instead, her eyes look down at the flowers and she smiles, her grin pulling at the corners of her lips in a sick, seditious way.
It is the music that he hears first. Something about the soothing way it travels around him causes him to involuntarily follow it. It calls to him like a ghost in the night. And yet, there is something beautiful about it. He can hear Dierdre’s voice, even Ariannah’s voice, in the way that the pitch changes. It brings on memories of lovers lost and it makes his heart ache for something that he allowed to fall away. Something about all of this seems wrong, and yet, it seems completely right.
But as he follows the music to the gathering of flowers, he cannot help but look around him. He sees a place he’s never ventured before. The earth is stained in blood and he can smell the metallic scent of blood with each step he takes. But as his eyes take in the scenery, he takes notice of the large patch of flowers that clash so brightly against the brown hues of the canyon. The flowers seem out of place and he wonders briefly how such beauty could survive in a place drowned out in blood.
And then he realizes that the flowers, which are not ordinary flowers, cannot be natural. Everything from their appearance to their location seems carefully planned. Magic. He knows magic all too well and he can see that there is magic here.
But Rhone is not the only one here. He sees others. Others who are curious and others who are cautious. Rhone does not fear the dangers of magic. While he has seen both the good and the bad, he cannot help but only see the beauty in what has been gathered here today. And as he stands just within the perimeter of the flowers, he sighs. He is utterly content, unknowing just how dangerous this magic could truly be.
***STAFF EDIT
@Rhone has rolled a 3! Perhaps he has decided to pick a flower to take home with him; however, bad luck will dog his heels for the next 1 RL month (half an IC season). You can decide what the details of his bad luck entail, pm @nestle or @sid if you want ideas!
FLOWERS! He had heard the rumors that there were some mysterious flowers that had blossomed just south of Solterra. He had no reason to stick behind in the desert, nothing really seeming to tie him to the land. After the fall of the sovereign, Saphrax had kept a low profile, which was quite hard for him to do if not because of his personality, then most definitely by his appearance. How the fuck was a flaming bird supposed to hide out?
Wings took him to the sky, traveling easily and quickly over the ever-changing terrain. He took extra time as he passed over a river or lake, to peer down at his reflection. After all, he had to look extra good for any ladies who might have been drawn to the flowers. Each feather had to be perfectly placed, each patch of fur perfectly groomed. He was probably (no, he was) the sexiest son of a bitch in Novus.
As he comes upon the wildflowers, he dives in for a perfect landing. Although, instead of trampling what he assumed would be normal flowers, he cannot help but be a little taken aback by the fact that these flowers were not exactly flowers in the normal sense. They were made of a much more durable material. No matter what they were made of, they were beautiful, like him.
He gathered up a mouthful of beautiful flowers and began to strut his way around the Steppe, coming up to each and every mare he could find and offering her a bouquet of flowers. Girls like flowers, didn’t they?
Fuck the closing of the boarders. Somnus could kiss her ass if he thought that a little boarder closing would keep her locked up until the end of time. She didn’t care if there was a monster on the lose, the talk of magic had her wanting to get out and stretch her legs.
The jaunt over to the Steppe was a quick one, one in which she stuck close to the tree line, allowing the shadows to hide her cover. Sloane had never been one to simply run out into the open and expose herself like some did. Something told her that magic flowers in the middle of a barren field was a trap. Surely something was just waiting for her to even look at the flowers before attacking. No. Sloane was smarter than that.
The mare arrived at sunup, watching the flowers cautiously from the cover of trees. She watched as one, two, three, and more kept coming. Some stood in the flowers, some took the flowers, some just stood there looking at the flowers. She did this until the sun began to set. So far, no one had been attacked, killed, zapped, teleported, or anything of that matter. In fact, nothing really seemed to happen to them.
And so, when she was sure that she was alone, she began to step from her hiding spot within the shadows. Slowly, she stepped closer to the flowers to get a better look at them. She noticed that they glistened far more than normal flowers, almost as if the light was reflecting off water from an April shower. But there had been no rain.
As she came up upon the flowers, she saw just why the flowers were glistening. The flowers weren’t plants, not exactly. They were made from gemstones. It was an add thing, but it was enough to make her cautious. If their material wasn’t enough to put her on edge, the music that played through the wind was enough to irritate her and make her uneasy. What sort of set up was this? And so, she just watched them, unwilling to really interact with them for fear of the unknown. She wanted to understand why these flowers were here and what their purpose was. She needed to understand everything there was about them.
This night the nightmares are worse. Sea chokes her, swells up inside her lungs, her veins and no amount of starfire burns it out. Leto flees the swamp, she flees the sodden earth that was her pillow and the blanket of darkness that covered her.
It is Bellum Steppe she finds, where stars watch the meadow below. Flowers glitter in the moonlight, they turn toward the moon as they might toward the sun and Leto stops where she stands.
Flowers sway and beckon her in with chinking petals that sound like bones on china. They are teeth clacking, and a foreboding creeps and crawls its way up the star-girl’s spine. Why did she stray from the borders of the swamp? Why was she cursed enough not to sleep well anymore…
Slowly she steps into the flowers, and their bodies are solid against her limbs. They tap at her legs, they ring like bells and join a symphony of song that echoes through the Steppe. There is something wrong when a land of violence suddenly turns to beauty and tranquility. Eeriness laughs in the croner of this place. Darkness has a million eyes and they watch her like the gem-flowers catch light.
A flower whispers to her, wrong, wrong, wrong. It beckons her lips down and they go. Lower, lower her lips slip and as the flower croons and leans in, Leto’s lips part, a hiss escaping through her teeth. She snaps toward the flower and immediately it snaps away.
Her ears fall to her skull and she turns to run, to escape the flowers that sway and cackle in resounding, peeling bells. They whip at her galloping legs, their petals strike her legs like whips and the Ilati girl runs on as a star descends from the sky, alighting upon a flower and melting through its precious stone petal.
Leto jumps out of the meadow, her veins glowing with the fire of her white blood and she streaks from the Steppe, a torch amidst the night. She would not return to sleep so easy.
Wind, there is a shift in the cool, Winter air that traces rivers against the meadows. The brisk gales that send the grasses bending and shifting as it blows, each yellowing stalk bending to its will. So much strength in a thing that could not be caught, touched, held. Though some might try, it would slip through their grasp- even the mighty could not cage it, no mere mortal strength could bend the wind to its command. That was something Reckitt so loved about the wind, how it was no victim, as wily as a fox as it tugged at them, and at times sent them seeking cover. Easily. This invisible creature was so much stronger than all of them, a living thing, she could not deny that; so she looks in the direction it rolls- curious.
Wasn’t she ever? Each gust knew her weakness, possibly better than she herself did.
Something is different about the breeze today, it whispers, or she thinks it does; though the words are faint, foreign things she can not discern. A tingle traces itself against her alabaster spine, against the fine hair that grows increasingly longer as the months pass, as it grows cold and bitter. It reminds her of a feeling she has had before, in another place, where colored orbs roll and bounce, take you over and make you whole. It’s like her leg falling asleep, when she rests too long on a single appendage and the blood flow is ceased, it is uncomfortable, but not wholly painful; she could manage. Something sweet perfumes it as well, though the wildflowers do not grow as they once had, do they even grow anymore this late in the year?
Another curiosity she questions, though her legs continue to propel her, she moves on without knowing her destination, why or where she goes.
It’s a strange beetle that finds the glint of her amber stare now, that holds her soft gaze and she watches it scuttle along. The reflective shell is unusual, a color she can not place, one she has no name or word for, so she tilts her pale head as it scurries. Then she speaks, “Wait, please stop,” she asks it, a tinge of alarm in her tone, the request seems like one that can not be held, she couldn’t keep herself from saying it. Something was making moves with her words, her body, was it the air itself?
Reckitt limps as she walks, her bad right leg plain as day, easily noticed though it does not keep her from pursuing life, from working hard to compensate for her frailty. The pale horse limps, but she keeps going, chasing the reflective creature as it waddles through the brittle Winter grasses, grasses that becoming increasingly brown; decayed. “What strange Magic,” she whispers, the coo of a dove her vocals, the hushed tones that all too often leaked from her pristine lips. The sweet smell carried by the wind begins to make sense, the abundance of vibrant flowers do not go unnoticed as she progresses further into Bellum Steppe.
Flowers that whisper, make song as she stands in the clearing, listening to the orchestra of symphony as it rises and falls with each note.
It reminds her of a siren, the fable of women who lead sailors to their deaths, though even she, the pale Druid, can not resist their call. If there is danger here, she is not safe from it, not spared from whatever downfall it might hold. Proverbial arms spread wide as the music and the whispers coax her in, tug her with the strength of the wind. The wind could not be caught, but a small horse was easily reigned and harnessed, she did not even balk from the tether, perhaps she should have. “Must I stay?” she asked them, each twinkling bloom, ones that spun and folded and opened again.
***STAFF EDIT
@reckitt has rolled a 4! She has been awarded +100 signos for interacting with the flowers.
04-06-2019, 12:17 PM
Played by
Dingo [PM] Posts: 34 — Threads: 6 Signos: 530
“Have you ever seen anything like them before, papa?”
Looking on from a cautionary distance, Regis took in the glittering sight of the flowers undulating gently in the breeze. They didn’t bear the usual petals of all the other flowers he’d seen in his year of life, replaced instead by gemstones of every shape, color, and variety known to him. His curiosity begged him to stray closer, but something seemed incredibly off about this place; not just because of the flowers themselves, but the way that the grass around them was strangely decayed. It screamed ‘wrong’ at him.
Eyes transfixed, Regis’ concentration was broken when a voice creeped into the back of his mind. ‘Come closer,’ it beckoned to him, ‘Come see my beauty for yourself.’ A soft gasp escaped past his lips, heterochromatic eyes growing wide as he took a step backward so that he stood between both his father and Ulric, who had chosen to accompany them for the day. Glancing between them but unwilling to take his gaze away from the field for too long, he spoke softly, trying his best to sound brave despite the tremor of fear that wavered his voice. He was idly aware of the way Milo pressed into his foreleg in an effort to comfort him, his ears back as he, too, gazed at the field with a low growl forming in the back of his throat.
“Did… did you hear that?” The Prince asked, craning his neck to look over his shoulder. “I-I don’t think we should go any closer.” Was he a coward for suggesting it? His father had told him once before that he would sometimes need to search for clues even if it seemed absolutely insane, but this place felt as though it harbored far more evil than the pool they’d found some time back – even if the visit had stolen a portion of his eyesight away from him.
***STAFF EDIT
@Regis has rolled a 3! Perhaps he has decided to pick a flower to take home with him; however, bad luck will dog his heels for the next 1 RL month (half an IC season). You can decide what the details of his bad luck entail, pm @nestle or @sid if you want ideas!
IF YOU STAND FOR NOTHING, WHAT WILL YOU FALL FOR? ♛ all contact and force is allowed at any time, sans godmodding and powerplay
