It was time to bring them together, to count the number and see just how his court stood. He could hardly blame the ones that had left -- as it seemed that the world was crumbling around them, and even the wilds of Novus seemed a far more welcoming place than the regime. Kasil hoped to change that. He wished to be a shepherd to his people, his rod used not to beat his flock into submission but to guide to Oriens himself. He hoped that by showing gentle devotion to those under his care, that they may come to see true light and understanding -- although if they chose not to, he supposed that there was no harm in that.
Each and every creature was entitled to their own beliefs. The winged Sovereign felt the chill of the night beginning to leave the walls of his court, the citadel in the heart of Delumine beginning to warm under the warm light the Oriens had begun to lift to the sky -- for his brother, Solis, to take unto their sister, Vespera, until she could deliver it back into the arms of Caligo. Thus the days turned, and this spring would turn to summer, and so on and so forth.
Kasil’s steps were light upon the courtyard grass, a large space that he thought was suitable to hold this first sort of informal meeting. It was small enough to be intimate, but large enough to hold a small crowd -- which, in truth was that he was expecting. Roses and various other flowers grew wildly along the perimeter, sweetening the air with buds that indicated the season. Giving his body one final shake, he cleared his throat and attempted to will his appearance into something resembling regality. He needed to put his best foot forward here, and did not wish to appear as weak as he felt. Birds that nestled in the trees were his audience as he spoke, his voice a little less confident than he would have liked.
”Come forward, friends and allies of the Dawn Court. It is high time that your Sovereign meets all of you -- to welcome you and allay any concerns you may have.”
It was his mother who was the first to join him, unsurprising to say the least. The mare was always fairly close at hand, her youthful days of wandering at an end with the death of her father. Perhaps, he thought, she might go on her own again once she found that he could handle the Court on his own. She was beautiful in his eyes, of similar build but shorter than he was; her dark hair tied up in an assortment of gold and flashy emeralds. A mark of sin adorned her shoulder, her adulterous nature on display for all to see. She had earned that mark after his birth, when the product of her indiscretions would serve as evidence.
Kasil’s grandfather had been instrumental in that. He had always told him that no one was above the law, but that an innocent was an innocent. Kasil bore no mark, but it was understood that his conception had been less than ideal. It had not affected his upbringing, had not altered his course in life. She came to stand nearby, ostentatious in her jingling adornments.
”Mother.” He addressed her kindly, dipping his head in respect for her position as his mother. He quickly turned away, however, wanting to keep his eyes and ears open for the others that he was sure were to come. Slowly, a trickle of gatherers began to form -- nameless faces that he would see to it that he knew more properly by the end of this day. If his recent travels around Delumine had shown him anything, it was that perhaps he were not as in touch with his Court as he would have liked to be.
everyone has until July 25th to reply! this is considered mandatory, with a word minimum of 300 per posting. Please do not feel obligated to write long posts, unless you specifically want to. <3
we have calcium in our bones, iron in our veins,
carbon in our souls, and nitrogen in our brains.
93 percent stardust, with souls made of flames,
we are all just stars with people names.
- nikita gill
For several days, the witch mulled over the truth in the rumors that had rung across the far reaches of the new world. The once-crumbling courts were now rebuilding, a regime stepping into the ranks of royalty. It was not the first time she had served, having sworn loyalty to a court in an older far off land in her childhood. But now? Her emotions battled constantly. She had half a heart to refuse to come and meet Dawn's new sovereign. Having witnessed worlds be born and destroyed over countless timelines, she felt that she was more than a simple sage attending a meet-and-greet with her new king. She was once a goddess, for all intent and purposes. She would not bow.
Oh, but in her core the witchy woman knew she had to. Her kingling was an extension of Oriens himself, and if she were ever to obtain the good graces of the gods for her immortality again.. she would have to play the game. Disgust built in the back of her throat, tasting of acid and bile. Nimue found herself standing in the shadows of a grassy glade, unseen and unspoken. The stench of blossoming flowers and roses suffocated her, and she pawed the ground with increasing annoyance. Through the branches and spring leaves, she looked down upon Dawn's new king. Dark bay in color, her eyes -- admittedly -- marveling his strong wings, she watched silently as he called out to them all. A smaller, delicate mare stepped forth from the trees, Nimue watching from a distant. They exchanged words, though she did not hear them. It appeared they knew each other.
The air thrummed. She could guess there might be multiple bodies hiding in the trees. Was she certain, the rosy dam did not know. But she refused to sit and wait, instead stepping lightly through the shadows under the treetops. A soft breeze tangled her forelock, her haunting eyes open for all to see. She stepped proudly and confidently towards the kingling, chin raised. Instead of deigning to bend a knee, the witchy woman instead dipped her head in respect of her new Sovereign. "I am Nimue, Your Grace," she spoke, "sage to the court of the rising sun."
There are moments in one's life when the full extent of a thing feels like it's ducked away just beyond reach. That perfect word eludes you right at the crescendo of your moving speech; the solution to that clever puzzle stares you mockingly in the face for years. We as mortals hold many truths to be self-evident, but what are we supposed to do when they aren't? Into what vast oceans must we throw ourselves in search of that last missing piece?
How many roads must a man walk down, if forty-two will not suffice?
These were the clouds gathering about Martin's troubled mind as he grazed and watched a young forest cat prowl the underbrush in search of prey.
Alerted by the deep bellows-hiss of his breath, she glanced up and fixed him with a nonchalant, yellow-eyed stare before taking her leave. He had only just left the vale at this time, still reeling from being so suddenly uprooted, and he found himself envious of the little predator's simple subsistence.
Would that he needed only to find himself a meal, and not a reason for being.
~
Martin answered the sovereign's call with a soldier's dutifulness and a touch of bystander's curiosity, falling in amongst unfamiliar faces with a sense of pride that his strong jawline and noble bearing exuded more than his heart actually felt. He had no notion of how to meet this small challenge before him, no impression that could be gleaned from this stranger who was, if words could be believed, the illustrious head of the land that had called Martin forth from the wilds. Somehow, the stories of his youth had led him to expect a slightly different image of sovereignty.
The vale had no king, and had needed no king. Its council were simple servants of the people, delegated from amongst the populace and granted security in their position only so long as the public could trust and respect them. The people's loyalty was to the land itself, and so it would be for Martin.
With a glance toward Nimue, the flame-pointed unicorn touched his chin to the glittering gemstone at his chest and followed suit: "I am Martin, a warrior from the west. I wish to serve the Dawn Court."
Each day since his arrival here had been a new discovery, each hour an awakening. The first blushing dawn over the ocean, the meeting with Camdis Lohir in the meadow where he learned that there was a magic here, the others he had met on his increasingly less nervous peregrinations - it was all a waking dream to him.
But this - this was what he had been waiting for. This was what Charlemagne viewed as truly the beginning.
In his mind, in Errol’s stories, Delumine’s greatest treasure had been its libraries. The young unicorn had imagined sprawling, cavernous rooms lined with books and lit with candles, the kind of place you could get lost in but not really mind. The library of his parents’ small hold was nothing in comparison to the palatial place he dreamt of, and he itched to see if his visions had been true.
He was on his way to finally see when he felt a tug, a pull. At first he thought it was the Relic that Camdis had spoken of, but there was something in his ear, too - like a voice from a distant room. The unicorn followed the feeling, anxiety making him nearly tiptoe, the scythe of his golden horn making reflections dance on the walls. Out into a courtyard he walked, hoof steps ringing out then falling quiet on the grass, and when he saw the gathering before him he paused for a long moment.
Charlemagne had only seen his own people’s king once. Because they were a warring people, he had been the biggest brute of all - though no fool, to have made it where he was. In the chestnut unicorn’s memory he was a hulking unicorn, rippled with scars, notches in his ears and horn, made bigger still by the bear-pelt he wore.
This king was nothing like that.
And Charlemagne was glad, and curious, and wary. His green-eyed gaze slipped to the mother, next, and sadness rang his heart and kept his gaze from lingering. It fell to Martin next, and he stepped forward to stand beside the striking stallion just as he spoke. His words made the dark unicorn freeze with a hoof still lifted. Warrior? Well of course he was, how could he be anything else? Charlemagne had been a fool, subconsciously dismissing his own understanding.
But - perhaps warriors were different, here, than they’d been at home. Kings certainly were, and they hadn’t had sages at all.
Fighting his sudden nervousness, Charlemagne joined the gathering, following the others’ lead and dipping his golden-horned head low. “My name is Charlemagne,” he said when he’d lifted it again, gaze touching on the sovereign’s for the barest of moments. “I grew up hearing stories of the greatness of the Delumine sages, and I have come to learn from them, may it please you.”
The flower was delicate, its petals limp and fragile as they splayed out in a colorful circle against the rock. Thin, raised veins ran the length of it, radiating out from its center where specks of pollen created a thick, golden center. Alorus had hopped onto the grey slab as well, blackened head cocked to one side as he inspected the flora with the same intensity as his equine companion. Taking great care to be gentle, Ipomoea lowered his head at a slow, inching pace until his eye hovered mere inches above the earth. Although delicately thin, the blossom was nearly as big as Po’s own head, and gave off an incredibly strong aroma that he wasn’t yet sure if he liked. “I don’t know the name of this one, Al,” he confessed, nudging the flower gently with his muzzle. A few grains of pollen stuck to the ends of his nose, causing his to pull his head to the side sharply and his nostrils wrinkled. The tickling sensation started deep within his nasal passages, and he stood there heaving for a few breaths before a strong sneeze forced the allergen from his airway. On the rock, Alorus chattered angrily, as if scolding his young companion. But Ipomoea paid him no mind, his focus already shifted to the group of equines gathering in the distance. His mottled ears swung forward, but only scattered voices and dissonant phrases reached him. Nonetheless, it looked important, and Po wanted to be in the midst of it.
“Come on Al, we can play with the flowers later,” he called back to his companion, picking up his legs into a steady trot towards the capitol. The stellar’s jay watched him go for only a minute before he picked up the surprisingly light flower and took flight after the speckled horse, wings beating quickly to catch up. Po’s pace continued to increase until he was rushing through the meadow at a gallop, slowing to a canter only when he reached the outskirts of the city. It seemed abandoned, its inhabitants having beaten him to the meeting already. He skidded to a halt when he reached the courtyard, nostrils flaring as his sides heaved and his ears spun forward to inspect the crowd. His knees were muddy and his hair was a mess, hardly dressed for any sort of party. As he approached, his companion dropped to his crest and tucked the vibrant flower behind his ear, as though its addition would make up for his disheveled appearance.
The dark figure standing before them all was familiar, but Po couldn’t think of a reason for him to be publicly speaking. He still had a lot to learn about the workings of this Court. Instead he turned to the nearest equine, drawing close (perhaps closer than he should have), directing his questions towards anyone who would answer. “Does anyone know what’s going on here?”
Pan followed the path from the sea to the Dawn Court, humming as he went, and collecting small treasures along the way. Into the satchel went a gnarled piece of bark, a nearly intact blue robin’s egg, and a large mushroom cap. They were followed by a sparkling piece of quartz, a particularly large acorn, and a beautiful four leaf clover. Feeling proud of his cache, he began to search for somewhere to stash his finds. Normally, Pan discovered some type of cave in the place where he decided was home. Since he’d determined that he would live here, in the Dawn Court, he would search in the heart of Delumine.
It wasn’t long before he found the perfect place, a cavern with a small opening, just wide enough for one or two horses to slip through. It was shaded by tall oak and birch trees, far from prying eyes. As he stepped into the mouth of the cavern, pale sunlight from the surface glittered from stalactites and stalagmites. He shivered with pleasure as he walked deeper and deeper through it, finding an intricate and winding system, deep beneath the earth. Stashing bits of his treasures here and there, the boy only left once he felt the place was sufficiently guarded, scattering bits of branches in front of the entrance to hide it from prying eyes (not that he minded to share… Pan was more than generous with his riches).
Wandering through the woods, he found himself listening to the sounds of the day. There were some he knew – the cry of the whippoorwills, the rustle of deer in the brush…. But some creatures were new. He saw brightly colored songbirds, a wooly wood bison, and a particularly quarrelsome honey badger. Further and further he moved, until the voices of the others began to reach his ears. Curious, the boy crept closer, grinning widely when he saw his friend Kasil. Rushing to say hello, he almost blurted out a story to the Sovereign, but held back when he realized that the winged male was not alone. Looking from one face to the next, he was surprised to find the two unicorns from the beach, and the one from the maze. They introduced themselves, and clearing his throat, he stepped forward to do the same.
”I’m Pan!” His voice was bright and childlike, but he offered it to the others with a friendly sort of tone and a grin. ”I can be useful… anything you need!” The child wasn’t much of a fighter, but what he lacked in brawn he made up for with personality and enigmatic charm. He left it up to Kasil to decide what was best. Stepping closer to Ipomoea, he offered a boyish half-grin, whispering to him in low tones ”I think we're getting jobs to do..."
It did not take long for the first of the court to arrive, a rose colored unicorn wearing a gently glowing amulet. Kasil made it a point not to notice the beauty of others, but if he had been the type he might have appreciated her unconventional beauty. The dark bay stallion glanced at his mother, who had begun to move a safer distance away -- allowing her son to greet his people in peace. He hated it when she hovered, and she knew that -- although it rarely stopped her from exerting her ‘motherly’ concern. The winged king allowed a gentle smile to spread across his features, offering the unicorn respect in return with a bow of his head. ”Nimue.” He said aloud, committing the name to memory. ”Thank you for your service to this court. Being a Sage is a sacred duty, may Oriens guide you.” She would be one of those that he was interested in meeting with after this formality -- to gauge her abilities and see if perhaps she might be worth promoting into one of his much needed higher ranks. He held a tenderness for the rank of Sages, not uncommon in the Dawn Court.
A male of worth approached him next, the glittering jewel on his chest something that would have certainly caught his mother’s eye. He had half a mind to warn the stallion, but decided that he would instead have a stern word with his mother about the importance of not abusing her station as a Sovereign’s mother. Kasil watched with interest as he lowered his head, the golden horn adorning his head a rather intimidating thing if he were not sure of the stallion’s intent. ”Martin. A fine name for a warrior.” His lips split into a smile, offering a nod of his head in respect. ”I trust that you will serve our court well, keep her inhabitants safe from any who try to threaten her.” His ears leaned forward, to hear a confirmation of this -- expecting acceptance.
The Sovereign ruffled his feathers as another young stag stepped into the fray. A unicorn as well, but he seemed a simpler kind -- although Kasil knew better than to judge appearances. He could sense the youth in him, compared to the first unicorn, but his voice held composure. His smile widened, kind hearted gaze meeting the youth’s for a moment -- disappointed, but not puzzled as it did not linger long on his own. So many old traditions and fears to stamp out under his reign. He did not wish for anyone to fear him, especially his own people. He needed them to trust him, and how could he expect their loyalty if they were afraid to seek him out or hold his gaze? ”Charlemagne! Of course, we welcome you to Delumine -- feel free to seek them out, may you find the knowledge that you thirst for. May I introduce you to Nimue, one of our Sages? She may be of great interest to you. ” The dark stallion said with a little more gusto. He turned his gaze to Nimue and Martin, nodding to indicate Nimue to the youth. ”I grew up learning the way of the sages. They may always have a special place in my heart, an important piece to the foundation of Delumine. I am glad to see the pillars so well represented so far.”
He dipped his head in respect, before pulling away to leave them to their own conversations. Kasil recognized both of the young stallions that appeared in the crowd next, the audience beginning to fill the intimate space. Ipomoea and Pan were a pair that he had met only once before this meeting -- both wandering in some of his favorite places to wander himself. He was grateful at least for a few familiar faces, even if they too were only acquaintances. Ipomeoa’s appearance was a bit disheveled than he remembered their last meeting; a flower tucked into his hair which only enhanced and reinforced the more feminine qualities about him. ”Po, welcome!” Kasil said, pausing as Pan chimed in -- introducing himself to the small circle that seemed to have formed around the winged male.
”Pan, it is good to see you again. How are you finding things in the Court?” He asked, turning his ears in the youth’s direction. ”Not quite jobs to do, although I know we will find you something very productive to do, my young friend.” He glanced back at Nimue and Martin, then to Charlemagne. ”The court has long been out of order, with recent events and my...appointment as Sovereign -- I thought it best to gather as many as I could to say hello. Perhaps mention some important points --” He paused, noting that there seemed to be a few missing, and that was something he would correct. It was not going to stand that a call by the Sovereign went unanswered. ”My higher ranks are vacant, which no doubt some of you know. We are rebuilding from ash and rubble. I wanted to extend the invitation for those interested in higher positions to meet with me, so that I can gauge your loyalty to Oriens and Delumine.” He let his ears pull back, the dawn light glinting off of his ornamental head piece, the gold triangles that adorned where his forelock might have hung if he didn’t prefer it tied back away from his eyes.
”Pan, I would like you to try various positions within the Court -- to decide what suits you the best. Your adventurous nature lends itself to perhaps a Warrior position, as they take many travels in support of the Court. But, that is something I’d like you to discover for yourself.” He mentioned to the young silver stag.
ooc: sorry for the delay on this! @Pan @Ipomoea @Martin @Nimue @Charlemagne
we have calcium in our bones, iron in our veins,
carbon in our souls, and nitrogen in our brains.
93 percent stardust, with souls made of flames,
we are all just stars with people names.
- nikita gill
The witch kept her haunting gaze steady, unwavering, like a solid pillar of stone beat with thundering ocean waves. She blinked slowly, her crown tilting ever so slightly to the side, one side of her lips tilting upwards. If she had to dance across the game board that was court life and politics, oh.. she would tango deviously. Play the game she will, and she would do so greatly.. and to her advantage.
"May Oriens bless your new reign, Your Grace," she replied, dipping her delicate crown once more before moving off to the side. The air in the glade vibrated, thrumming, several more bodies joining the fray to meet Dawn's new king. She stood on the edge under the canopy of trees, ever watching as others began to filter in. Her orbs never faltered from the handsome stallion though -- his dark wings folded gently and majestically, his coat a mix of lush hues of chocolate. One by one, the witch noted each member that approached him. After it all, she noticed that there were too few who had answered his call.. surely, there had to be more of who aligned themselves to this court.
Alas, the rosy femme did not waste her precious now-mortal time with such thoughts. She was not a queenling, nor anything close to the sort. In this body, in this cursed life, she was simply a sage. Biding her time until she would petition the gods for her status back. Until then, Nimue watched and waited, listening as the stallion addressed them all. She swished her tail at the mention of the vacant ranks, unsure of how she thought of them. Possibly, if she were to serve in that way, Oriens might give her sway.. but that was something else entirely; something to be done at the Peak. Definitely not here, and most definitely not in the company of other eyes.
She weighed her options, landing on a reasonable choice. The witch had nothing to lose, for the one thing she truly cared about -- her immortality -- was already gone. With her newfound decision, Nimue stepped forward boldly. As she neared him, her voice dropped to something akin to sulky and mysterious, not entirely wanting her intentions to be known to all of those present. "I would like to speak with you, Your Grace," she spoke softly, formally, "whenever you are able. Until then, I shall be in the libraries."
With that, not deigning to be dismissed, the witch child excused herself. A rose-colored shadow fading into the trees, and then she was gone.
The boy was nothing if not adventurous, but there was only once in his life he’d tried to show his ‘mastery’ in battle. Only once, and he’d failed. Closing his eyes for a moment while Kasil gently led him toward the warrior ranks, Pan remembered. He remembered blood on the snow, the glassy eyes of his dearest friend – staring up with emptiness into the heavens, the way her body felt so cold to the touch and her flowers seemed to wilt even as he watched. He could do nothing to save Florentine during the Great War. All Pan could do was stand in the shadows with his eyes closed, hoping it would go away, weeping from the pain of seeing his friends slaughtered before him. No. War was not the path for him.
His face was pale, eyes widening as he opened them and tried to mask away the pain. But if it was a warrior that Kasil needed, he would try his best to be a warrior worthy of this place – worthy of the god Oriens (which was apparently the god he was supposed to worship… not Solis). Gulping before he spoke, he tried to manage a smile. ”I will try, if that is what you want.” In the back of his mind, there is a nagging sensation that something else would be a better fit. While it was true that Pan liked learning and stories, they clearly didn’t need more sages. What did intrigue him some though, was healing. Florentine was a healer now, and while it wasn’t something that Pan had ever thought to do before, the fact that his best friend forever was doing it surely meant that it was a worthy path to follow.
Kasil had told him to go out in the world. To seek. To explore. And this is where Pan’s true passions lay anyway. Responsibility was a yoke he knew he must bear as a member of a herd, but left to his own druthers, Pan would be out in the world, seeking, searching, curious. He would be making new friends, seeing new things, and drawing all of that in for the glory of the Dawn Court. It would be good, he supposed, to have a place to call his own again. To have a place to serve again. And maybe, Kasil was the scholar from Commander Shepard’s story – the one who would lead the Dawn Court to glory.
The boy liked the romance of knights, and glory, and great kings. So he would go, as asked, into the wilds of Novus – to see what he could see.
Meetings, thought Kaladin disdainfully, are an illusion of grandeur meant to subdue mortals into deference. He sighed. So why the hell am I here? He skulked the border of the Delumine courtyard, seemingly disinterested in body while his eyes glimmered shrewdly in tones of amber, brightened by the sun. He could see them all from where he stood, every mortal speck on a canvas of eternity, each hoping and vying for the eye of an emperor who was just as corporeal as they were. Kaladin could understand their need for recognition - he himself had plans to meet with Kasil and climb the ranks of Delumine, if more for his own selfish plans then for the glory of the hike.
Kasil. From here he could see the rather unremarkable stallion, golden band around his forelock almost blinding in the glare of the afternoon light. Never in his life had Kaladin felt more repelled by a mortal. It was petty of him, perhaps - a soreness reverberating deeply that such an undeserving creature would hold status higher then his own. But beyond that, it was how long absent the royal had been since his coronation, clearly careless with his kingdom as he risked the fall to chaos for his own personal gains - whatever they may be.
Kaladin was not one for petty politicking, but he would not stand around and watch as Kasil threatened the stability of the first place he had ever considered a home.
And so, he had taken the time to read up on history and politics between his toils as a Caretaker and hunt for freedom. He had learned enough to grasp at straws of Novus' governing forces, and to understand the threat Delumine would be under should it not find footing in the shifting political world around it. It was then that Kaladin had decided then that if could not use his divine might to re-arrange the world, he would change it the only way he could - as a citizen of the Dawn Court.
He stood patiently, waiting the ideal moment to approach Kasil. It would take some effort to disguise his dislike of the monarch, but Kaladin hoped that Delumine's Sovereign was expecting aversion, and that he would not allow emotions to affect his fair judgment.
He stepped forward just as Kasil finished addressing the scaled silver stallion, blazenly blocking the Sovereign's route. "Kasil. Er- Lord Kasil." The bay held an imposing quality from close quarters that Kaladin had not recognized from afar, increased perhaps by his height. Kaladin had to battle with his own lowly mortality for a moment, begging his muscles not to quiver at the daunting task ahead. Get it together, you idiot, he cursed internally. You were a god, once. Be one now Spurred on by the thought, he lifted his steely gaze to meet with the monarch's keen red eyes.
I am Kaladin, a Caretaker for Delumine." He declared finally, youthful voice like a tolling bell. "You wanted to judge our loyalty in the eyes of Oriens. But perhaps you should judge our efficacy instead, as it is a quality currently much more coveted." He cocked his head, eyes like unflinching amber stones. "Your higher ranks are vacant, and you have little to fill them with. I do not see room to be picky." He turned on his haunches, now remembering the old glory of endless power rippling through his body. It seemed closer now then ever. With it, he met the eyes of the gathered mortals, many of their faces familiar to him now. Then, he turned back to Kasil. "Allow me to act as Emissary. I may be young to your eyes, but I have knowledge that many never will. Knowledge you will need, before you reign is over."
He ended his words there, feeling apprehension attempt to crawl back into his stomach as he stood before the towering stallion, chin raised and prideful gaze leaving no place for argument. This was it, he thought. Judgment day. The god could rise again, or fall from grace further then he ever had before.
