So, this was his new home; his new court. Camdis was surprised at the lack of animosity that he felt toward the fortress and it's people.
The stallion's obsidian hooves pressed heavily against the cobbles of the court yard, the clacking sound echoing sharply off of the towering stone walls that surrounded him. Yet, it did not feel as if the walls were trapping him, smothering him as they did in the castle that stood as his birthright. No, instead, the mammoth stone of the Night Court felt more like an all-encompassing embrace, a motherly protection.
It felt like asylum, and for the first time in his months of travel, in his ages of fleeing the crown that demanded his presence, Camdis felt safe.
The relief that thrummed within his veins was a palpable thing, for the Exile King's shoulders drooped and his great head lowered, his breath coming easily at last. Though, despite having found what some dark, kindly corner of his mind had titled home, Camdis still felt as if he were searching for something. It was there on the breeze, bursting through the sky, beating like a drum within his chest, the exhilaration of the chase, the search, the discovery, the victory. His pulse quickened as he slowed to a stop in the night-darkened courtyard, silvery eyes gazing out at the deepening shadows and flickering torches.
What was here? Had it summoned him to this land? What was his purpose here?
Maybe the answer would be in whatever he found along the way.
Kaladin entered through the main gates with deliberate precision, eyes flickering from one side of the massive courtyard to another, in constant analysis and judgment of his new situation. The air held the crisp, cool touch of night here, the temperature lower then he'd expected, seemingly radiating from the frigid cobblestones beneath his hooves. The court held a haunting quality, like a graveyard at midnight or forest at the full moon, playing into myths of darkness and the horrors it wrought. The world around him was desolate and cold, broken only by the weak flicker of torches placed upon the walls - near enough for comfort, but far enough not to cast too much light.
Discomfort creeped up his spine, soft at first but growing stronger with every step deeper into the castle grounds. He was a stranger here, and he would soon know it - the few mortals he set eyes on would give him odd looks, their faces stony and unforgiving to strangers. Doing his best to ignore the alien sensation, Kaladin set his sights on the towering fortress before him - a marvel of stonework and times gone by, bleak weatherworn walls a glaring a challenge at all who dared enter their confines. Under their stare, Kaladin found himself thinking of his own home - the quiet, subtle decorations in the architecture, the crowded courtyard and massive library. The bright, cheerful greenery and carefully tended gardens - it was all missing here. He shivered - he planned to get the hell out of here as fast as he could - as soon as he had gained all the knowledge he needed about the relic.
Yet, his curiosity was stirred here as well, a need to gain knowledge of the foreign lands in order to use them to his advantage. He found it odd, how mortals could build all four Courts, and yet one could so different from the other. He wondered if they reflected the values of the individuals that inhabited their given fortresses, or if it was simply a need to resist the elements that had driven the architects. Whatever the case, the person responsible for building Denocte's principal keep had done an abhorrent job in the artist field. Despite the ancient quality of the grey fortress, it seemed to be only a skeleton, as if begging to be built upon to gain the attraction of flesh.
It was sudden. Breaking out of his bitter musings, Kaladin's eyes flickered to the side. Sure enough, he recognized a familiar hide ambling across the courtyard path, massive hooves emitting a gentle clattering on the stonework. Camdis, the brute dressed in crimson and earth tones, with eyes like thunder. Kaladin sighed, and it was a sigh of relief - he had found a guide, and perhaps a friendly face amongst the glaring cold of the Night Court. He broke into a trot, nearing the stallion, customary greeting completely forgotten in mitigation. "Camdis," Kaladin's eyes glimmered in the torchlight. "I have never been more glad to see a mort-" he caught his error halfway through, and prayed that his companion had not. "Friendly face."
@Camdis kaladin actually likes someone progress had been made
The juxtaposition was a kind one; something more than he deserved, in truth.
A new home and a new friend, two things that stallion had never before been able to claim on their own, let alone at the same time. Yet, here he was, the recipient of what would have seemed like an impossibility mere moments ago. First, he had heard Kaladin's sigh, though at the moment, he had mistook the whisper of sound to be that of the Night, possibly even that of Caligo welcoming one of her children home. Briefly, the horned stag thought back to his time upon the mountain temple that served as holy house for each of Novus' deities, and the woman he had met there, the woman whose scorn he wore with proud.
Rhoswen, an old name for elder tongues and priests, for ancient tomes and forgotten slabs of marble. She had worn it well, with her scarlet hair and her pointed glances, sharp as daggers and keen as raptors. He had found her beautiful, he had found her terrible, and as a result, he had wanted to break her. His own jealousy had writhed and lashed within his grip, and he had not leashed it; no, he had wielded it in his words, let it leak poison into his mannerisms, let it settle over him like a cloak on a cool night.
Camdis regretted it, like he regretted nearly everything else, but he would not take it back if given the chance. He would rather look a cruel fool than a kindly weakling.
Then, as Kaladin approached him, Camdis' own name upon the honeyed stallion's lips, the red stained man held back his delighted gasp, though it could not stop the happy glimmer in his silvery eyes. Brows quirked as his comrade stopped his own words then smoothly interjected a different phrase, as if trying to erase what may have been a slip-up from existence. A mort- ? Wondered the bay healer, creating a mental note to peruse a dictionary later and list out all of the words that started with "mort," if not for curiosity's sake, but for the possibility that it would offer some insight into the sarcastic male's past.
"Kaladin," Came the brute's baritone greeting, a nod and an ear tilted toward his companion, "The feeling is mutual, though I never pegged you as scared of the dark." The grin that toyed with the bay's lips was teasing, but then all but dropped from his features as he motioned toward the shadowy fortress before them, "Have you come to join us? Caligo would be proud to host you as a follower, I'd think."
@Kaladin I LOVE HIMMMMM PLEASE KALADIN THREADS FOREVER
He had never expected to be greeted with pleasure by another. He had considered friendship a useless sentiment, something to be observed with curiosity but kept at an arm's reach. He'd known, in his eight-hundred-year slumber, that friendship was a fickle thing, only strong enough to maintain pleasantries, but shattering under the slightest strain. Friendship made mortals weak - it was enough to have them turn a blind eye to an enemy, or to expose their backs to an assassin's knife. When mortals began to rely on others, that was when they lost their independence, their ability to think freely and rationally. Friends held them back and made them weak. He knew this. Then why was he glad to make those same, oh-so-mortal mistakes?
The thoughts coursed through his mind briefly, enough to make him think, what the hell am I doing?, but not enough to have him put aside the pleasant feeling that bubbled in his chest. I can always use him to my advantage, then cast him aside, he reminded himself. But when he looked to Camdis' honest, excited face - excited to see Kaladin, no less - he knew he would not be able to harm the stallion. Unless his freedom was at stake. He would kill every mortal in his path if it meant breaking the cursed collar. But at the moment, Camdis was not standing on this path - no, he walked beside Kaladin instead, some little comfort in this harrowing purgatory.
He was surprised at how comfortably speech came to him now. Glad to forgo small talk and awkward greeting, he dove headfirst into conversation, his sarcasm falling naturally into place alongside Camdis' jest. "It's not the dark that frightens me - it's the dreadful architecture. I thought you had better taste then this, my friend." he cocked his head, eyes glimmering in the gloomy torchlight. "Have you Night Court members ever considered a little color? Or some greenery? Though if I were a plant, I'd want to get the hell out of this darkness as fast as possible."He glanced at Camdis sheepishly, mouth quirking up in the rare grin. "No offense." He shuddered at the cold, eyes darting around the steel-grey courtyard before taking comfort in Camdis' crimson flank. It amused him that such a colorful man could take up residence in a place such as this. Mortals continued to surprise him - his new acquaintance was now exception.
Kaladin shook his head at the second inquiry, speaking in earnest now. "Unfortunately not. I don't think I could commit to a life of eternal darkness."Not again, at least, he added in his thoughts. Now that he had seen it, he could not help but think of how much the Night Court's layout reminded him of his old imprisonment. He pushed the thought aside before it could affect him, focusing instead on the task at hand. "I came here still seeking that relic - I had hoped the Night Court could offer some guidance. Have you heard any news, perhaps?"
@Camdis i now name Camdis and Kaladin the best bromance 2k17
The presence of the bitingly sarcastic stallion chased away thoughts of regret and Rhoswen, making the elegantly sculpted stag all the more welcome at Camdis' side. There was a steady energy that surrounded the man, a sort of solidity that the Exile King could not find the word for. Thoughts hooked upon the subject, circling silently around options such as dependable, stable,, and enduring; yet, none of the options quite fit well enough for the scarlet stained gent to apply them to his prospective friend, and while Camdis loved to think as much as the next self loathing twit, the dry bass of Kaladin's words wormed their way to the forefront of Cam's attention.
Invisible brow arching at the man's quip, the horned stag felt a smirk pull at his lips, the muscles about his shoulders and chest loosening as he relaxed. Silvery gaze sweeping over the blocky walls and pale stone that made up the Night Court's great keep, Camdis Lohir couldn't help but chuckle and offer Kaladin a small nod; while he had a sudden sense of belonging and adoration for the rather spartan fortress, the horned stallion agreed with his ivory splashed friend. Distantly, he wondered if whichever monarch the people of Denocte deemed fit to govern Caligo's realm would be open to the idea of a remodel.
Rounder, less squat, Came his thoughts as he appraised the gargoyles and sprawling stone mass that beckoned.
As the pair continued their midnight stroll, Camdis cocked his great skull to the side as he listened to the gent at his side, part of him wondering at the timeless effects of his companion's speech and the rest pondering his words. At last, the ruby stained beast shook his head, heavy tresses whispering over the stones of the courtyard at the movement. "After the last monarch fled his throne, the keep fell into disrepair. Before I came to the courtyard, I wandered the battlements and was shocked at the terrible number of spiders and bats that have claimed the guard stations as their own," a lazy roll of the shoulders akin to a shrug, "If I were to ever hold the ear of the beast that gets to inherit this place, my first piece of advice would be wall hangings and jasmine - loads of them."
Turning that moonlike gaze upon his similarly horned friend, Camdis waited for the echo of his voice to fade from the surrounding mortar and stone before deigning to speak once more, "I haven't found a damned thing, if truth be told. After jaunting through that sex-fogged piece of hell, I high tailed it back here and have yet to feel the tug of the relic's magic ever since. I'm thinking it's fed up with my verbal abuse." Another shrug, "Either that or some lucky fool has fallen upon it already."
@Kaladin AAAA IM SO SORRY FOR THE WAIT I HAVE MISSED OUR SONS
