Asterion Home. His imaginings of this moment had been like waves, ceaseless and varied. Hope and fear and sorrow and pride, fierce joy and quiet shame - and here he stands now, with the sea at his back, the last of the summer warmth in the breeze, his people before him. Perhaps it would have been a grander setting, to mark their return in the castle or the courtyard - banners snapping in the light wind, the morning sun pooling through the windows, the ancient throne stately in the background. But that was not the Terrastella that had stolen Asterion’s heart, nor the one that had suffered so in the events unfolding after the Summit. So he had gathered them outside the walls, where the sun shone bright on their backs and the sea glinted turquoise and the new-grown grass was still summer green. Time had done its work of quiet restoration; there were scars still from the flooding and the mudslides, but their land was healing. It was Dusk’s people Asterion worried for now. As always there was ill news on the wind; another shadow of Denocte, vying for the Day Court’s crown. Peace had seemed so near the past few months - the bay wonders if it would always be this way, a fleeting thing just out of reach, like a moon-trail on the water. There was never time to be weak, never time to hesitate. With Cirrus watching solemnly from a sloping stone nearby, Asterion sweeps his gaze over those gathered. “It is good to see you all,” he begins, and pitches his voice louder, more level, to be heard above the sighing of wind and water and grass. “And good to stand here again. Thank you, Israfel and those who stayed, for keeping the court safe. There is still uncertainty in Novus - but our bond with Denocte is stronger than ever, and we will together heal what remains wounded.” “For too long there have been empty ranks - we cannot be whole without strong and wise leadership. I am happy to announce new Champions.” He nods to where they stand. “Once she has completed her spar with Israfel, Theodosia will take up the mantle of our Champion of Battle. I’m sure most of you know her - there is nothing she has not done for Terrastella. She makes me proud to be of Dusk.” His dark-eyed gaze finds hers, and a grin finds the corner of his mouth, there and gone again. “And Euryale will be our Champion of Wisdom.” When he searches for her among those gathered, his heart feels caught like a bird; Cirrus stirs nearby, casting him a keen gaze. “I encourage you all to get to know them both in the weeks ahead.” He smiles, then, and relaxes just a little. Public announcements have never been his favorite part of kingship - though he might be pressed to find any, save for the cooks always pushing food on him. It is his Champions he looks to now, and his Commander of the Halcyon - but the other citizens are not forgotten. When he speaks again, his voice still reaches them all. “As for what should come next…I would hear your thoughts.” It's good to be back! @ |
All Welcome - the courage of stars; dusk meeting
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 WITH SWORD AND SALT -
Marisol is not a kind girl. Often she wishes she were, but there is no point in kindness, nor in wishing, so: she doesn’t. She stands somewhere near the front of the crowd and watches Asterion with moon-dark eyes, narrowed under a thick flare of black lashes. Her skin is still stained a little from wearing weeks of warpaint. Coiled like a snake, she keeps her wings pinned to her sides, and the only thing that would differentiate from her from one of Vespera’s statues is the continued shifting of her gaze from citizen to citizen and the way her ear flicks when Asterion speaks. She cannot say anything kind, so she will say nothing else. She should be happy that they are back home - where she knows the winding paths of the earth as well as she knows the shape of the snip stark-white against her lips, as well as the hand of a lover - but instead she is anxious, discomforted. When she watches the scenery, she sees only what it looked like ravaged by flood and fire. The places where trees were snapped at their bases. Spots of barren, dark earth where there should be spirals of green. Sinkholes only now starting to fill up with dirt, the sight of which makes the Commander’s breath tighten in her lungs. She cannot be the only one to feel some trepidation in stepping back into Terrastella. But stoic as ever, Mari holds it under her tongue like a secret, and only watches as Asterion lays out the future of their court like it is nothing more than a deck of shuffled cards, Theodosia this, Euryale that, and something starts to buzz in her ears: anger or fear or disgust, she does not know, but it only increases in volume as Asterion’s voice continues to sound over the summer-rich fields. Diplomacy has never been her field of expertise. Even being subject to it makes her teeth itch a little. And whatever it is, anger or fear or disgust, the sound grows louder and louder and louder until it goes absolutely quiet and Marisol realizes Asterion is watching her. Recruit, she says bluntly. There is no nicety in it. We are too small to put up a fight when Solterra and Denocte inevitably war again over that Night Court idiot attempting to displace Seraphina. Not enough bodies for a battle, she says, trailing off, and even she is not sure whether bodies means soldiers or gravediggers. Either way she lapses into silence, and the buzzing in her ears picks up speed, again. <3 ![[Image: ddg6quy-9d15dab5-339c-4b09-8b57-20a99fda...jvUop12efQ]](https://images-wixmp-ed30a86b8c4ca887773594c2.wixmp.com/f/c175b84a-409b-40aa-8b86-49ed65b989ee/ddg6quy-9d15dab5-339c-4b09-8b57-20a99fda550e.png?token=eyJ0eXAiOiJKV1QiLCJhbGciOiJIUzI1NiJ9.eyJzdWIiOiJ1cm46YXBwOjdlMGQxODg5ODIyNjQzNzNhNWYwZDQxNWVhMGQyNmUwIiwiaXNzIjoidXJuOmFwcDo3ZTBkMTg4OTgyMjY0MzczYTVmMGQ0MTVlYTBkMjZlMCIsIm9iaiI6W1t7InBhdGgiOiJcL2ZcL2MxNzViODRhLTQwOWItNDBhYS04Yjg2LTQ5ZWQ2NWI5ODllZVwvZGRnNnF1eS05ZDE1ZGFiNS0zMzljLTRiMDktOGI1Ny0yMGE5OWZkYTU1MGUucG5nIn1dXSwiYXVkIjpbInVybjpzZXJ2aWNlOmZpbGUuZG93bmxvYWQiXX0.j-t9RuUsmMyaVL-O1rvZqbyyPYdOvtjHLjvUop12efQ)
  let our eyes show the
fire in our hearts tonight When she thinks of Denocte, now, she thinks of the slender figure she had seen weaving through the crowds, of lapis lazuli catching the lantern light as he had slipped into a tent. By the time she had made her own way through the crowds, he had been gone -- perhaps a figment of her imagination, the longing for a home to go to in a strange land, but perhaps her dam had truly found his own way into Novus. She hoped it was so. Her dam was a good soul, and he could find peace within Denocte, she knew that he could. She stands at Asterion’s side with her coat stained by the paint she had worn, easily seen against the pale canvas of her skin, with storm-engraved armor clasped over her chest and legs, and her eyes scan over everyone in attendance. They linger only once, over the Commander whose tongue is as sharp as her eyes, before the new Champion takes a deep breath and steps forward to speak. “The Commander is right,” She says, her eyes meeting everyone at the meeting in turn, her fellow Champions and the few citizens who have trickled in. “Even if this foolishness doesn’t boil over into war, we are ill-equipped to handle any sort of turmoil.” One wing extends meaningfully towards their home, towards the rent earth and previously flooded plains, and in her eyes are the ghosts of everyone she had failed to save, stretched too thin across too many disasters. When the stallion stepped forward, she offered him both her attention and her smile, brief and strained as it was. Her own magic was a sore spot still, a reminder of her useless sire and of the land she had left behind in her past, of the storms that had so recently raged through Terrastella and ravaged her people. She stays silent, now, however -- she has much to learn about her new position, she knows, and much to do still.  she wasn't looking for a knight, she was looking for a sword.
ERD  War. It was a word that they were intimately familiar with, and something about it muttered on Marisol’s lips in that raspy tone was incredibly disquieting. Erd glanced back towards his brother, turquoise eyes meeting identical turquoise. He was certain that Ard’s expression mirrored his own; pinched brows, eyes shining in both fear and apprehension, a thoughtful yet concerned frown. They had come here to escape war. To hear it spoken about so freely was alarming, and Erd wondered, not for the first time, if Ard had been onto something when he had claimed they should leave Terrastella behind them. Where else would they go, though? Where else could they go? Denocte had not suited them. Solterra was not even an option. Delumine, perhaps? Or maybe they could join the few who claimed no affiliation with a Court, content to roam and live on their own in the wilds. It wouldn’t be the first time they resorted to such a lifestyle. Yes, they had joined the Halcyon unit, but as messengers only. Marisol and Theodosia both knew that. They kept to themselves, enjoying their privacy and their time together. They enjoyed peace, spoke out for it even, but from the sounds of things it appeared that there may not be a peaceful way to handle the growing ire. The news, however, was not all dire. Promotions were made and citizens were appointed. Theodosia was named the Champion of Battle, and Erd offered her a warm little grin from his spot beside his twin brother. Good. She deserved it, having given her all in the name of Terrastella. The promotion of Euryale was a bit surprising, as Erd didn’t even know who she was, but then again it wasn’t like they had been in the Dusk Court much lately. Catching sight of Rhone when the bay made to speak, Erd offered him a soft little smile as well. He had been nice when they had met at the ocean, cordial to speak to and not forcing Ard to talk. Erd liked him well enough, and he was glad to see the man as a member of Terrastella. Clearing his throat, Erd finally spoke, piping up almost bashfully. “Ard and I can carry messages if we need to.” Whether or not they ended up staying within the Dusk Court remained to be seen, but they could at least offer some kind of service for the people who had taken them in. It was only fair.
ARD  Ard came to the decision that he did not like meetings. They only seemed to happen whenever bad things occurred, and while he assumed that the promotions of Theodosia and Euryale were all grand and great and whatever, the following tidbits of information did nothing to quell his anxieties. The younger twin shifted closer to Erd and pressed his muzzle beneath the joint of his brother’s wing, grateful for the hood and cowl of his cloak and how, even with the hood back and bunched about his neck instead of obscuring his face, it seemed to drown him and shield him from the curious stares of the other Court members. If there was one thing he loathed more than talking, it was being stared at. Luckily no one seemed to be giving them the time of day. He stayed quiet and refused to speak, which was surely a surprise to no one. There was nothing here that he wanted to say. Honestly, he just wanted to go find a good place to hide with Erd and drown out the day. Still, they at least agreed to show up, unlike a good number of individuals, and it was only right to offer their services as quick, nimble messengers if the need arose. It was their position within the Halcyon Unit, and they may as well be of some use for whatever remaining time they had in Terrastella. ’If war breaks out,’ he wanted to say to his brother, but his lips remained stubbornly shut, his voice hidden behind a barrier that simply would not shatter, ’We’re leaving.’ And he meant it. wow what a terrible post just ignore this plz  I'll tell you my sins & you can sharpen your knife wake up. the harsh gleam of sunlight, ebbs warmly through the curtains' obsidian fringe, heralding a new dawn; spanning bright gold upon her bedside smothered, in fur and lace. euryale pulls across her bed, like a lioness from her slumber; stretching talons and muscle and sinew. at the foot of the bed, lilith stirs from her sleep, too. with dust rising againt her jet black fur, and fangs glinting bright white in the morning light. euryale has dirt and blood upon her skin; enough to warrant a bath, and so she runs the hot water TO RINSE HERSELF CLEAN of last night's hunt. SHE LINGERS BY THE FLOATING ARRAY OF FLOURECENT, CELESTIAL BUBBLES. SHE RELIQUISHES FROM THE LAVISHED COMFORTS OF AN LANGOROUS BATH, FEELING THE HEATED LAPPING OF WATERY FOAM. EURYALE SOAKS IN THE FROTHING, LIQUID WARMTH; CRIMSON CURVES, WET ALONG THE MISTY, PALE-WHITE RIM OF THE OVERFLOWING BATHTUB. SHE RINSES HERSELF FREE OF BLOOD, SAVOURING THE HOT, SWELTERING MIST THAT DESCENDS THE LITHE CONTOURS OF HER DARK-KISSED BODY. DRYING HERSELF, AND FEELING FRESH, SHE FINALLY STEPS OUT OF HER BEDCHAMBERS AND DONS HER SILKEN BLUES with a sigh. it is not long before she leaves her place, and lilith, quick upon her heels, follows her lilac-haired mistress with A LOW, HUSKY growl. they descend the staircase to the sound of softly crashing waves, and the deep Caribbean blue that dances LIKE A heavy GOWN along the ocean's wild BLUE horizon. Soon she could see the crowd. OUTSIDE THE CASTLE WALLS, THEY HAD GATHERED; WITH KING ASTERION AT THE HELM, MAKING HIS ANNOUNCEMENTS in the morning light. Her eyes, lingers silently upon the king, recollecting the heat of their last meeting; all warmth and curiosity and flame, accompanied by the silently watching stars. IT TAKES EURYALE BY SURPRISE ALMOST, BUT HER FACADE IS ONE OF PASSIVE CORDIALITY, as she steps quietly among them and nods, as-you-wish, before her king. SHE takes in each of the champions, the commander, the citizens, acknowledging them with the silent caress of her ruby gaze. it feels strange, to be summoned openly like this; and even israfel's snort is met with a wiry smile of bemusement. perhaps, if there were a champion of the hunt, such title would suit her, perfectly. alas, she would have to fill the role of wisdom as per wish of the king. From between the press of bodies, for a moment, her gazes catches like fire onto his. Her breath curls from soft lips; pale lilac hair, fluttering in the cool autumnal breeze. Then euryale falls silent, being late to the meeting. observing intently the conversation, as it unfolds around them; preferring to keep to herself. Lilith presses by her flanks, she too, is watching intently. The talk of war spills openly among them, and euryale's dark-tipped ears flicks forward, curling with both interest and curiosity. If war loomed upon the horizon, indeed, they will all need to prepare. is when i'm alone with you It is not the call of the bay stallion that brings her to the meeting (she does not know to call him King). Nor does the whispered word war that flows through the breeze like sand in a current bring her. Although that word does spark something in her chest. Like an ember too close to a dying flame that thing catches and burns and consumes all the places in her bones that are full of rot. Thana burns like a forest fire and she's almost surprised to look down at her hooves and see death instead of flames in the half-moons she's left in the loam. At first when she sees the gathering of horses she's not sure what drumbeat in her heart made her hooves sing their way across the grasses to this place. At first she feels like a lion watching them although she couldn't place where the feeling came from. Everything about them seems strange, colorful and bright. Thana does not think dust pools, like saliva, behind the teeth of the horses gathered. She does not think they are made of the water that runs through her dreams like moonlight running through the dark. The only thought really flowing through her head is that beat, beat, beat of the war-drum and the hunger in her heart. She can still feel the crackle of that ember made flame in the way she awakens like a corpse might awaken in a grave. Her eyes blink and it feels like she's looking at them through a shroud of dirt and gloam and glitz. They blink (and blink and blink) and then they catch on the bay stallion with twilight branded into his skin. That ember in her chest blazes anew. It's hot, hot, hot and she's almost surprised that the ocean wind isn't singing an eulogy through her horn now. The dust behind her teeth tastes like soot when she licks at it like a wildcat at a deer. Thana knows now what she came for, what beat it was that hummed and burned through her bones. One among this group of horses, she thinks, has drank of that water running like moonlight in her dreams. (she's useless and has nothing to add because she knows nothing) D: |
