"What if I fall?"
"Oh, but my darling, what if you fly?"
Despite the wind rushing in his ears, the old scholar's words still echoed in his head and held promise that they would not vacate his mind anytime soon. This place, this world, this Novus... It was as new as it was old. It was grandeur and adventure, glory and redemption. It was mystery, promise, and hope all in the form of rolling hills, vast prairies, marvelous mountains, and scorched deserts.
Somnus had felt a little guilty that his inquiry, his thoughtful question of, "How did this place come to be?" had resulted in the elderly scholar to be so worn out, but his tale had spun a world so vast, so ripe for the taking that the dunalino stallion had been unable to ignore the desire alight in his breast. He wanted to know more of this place, this Novus, a land wrought and ravaged by one hundred years of darkness and that had, so recently, once again seen the light of day.
'Dawn in the northwest, Day in the northeast, Dusk in the southwest, and Night in the southeast.'
... The Dawn Court.
Leaving the old storyteller to his nap and his clearing of trees, Somnus had taken flight, mighty amber wings stealing the golden tactician away and into the sky, towards the northwest. Lands passed beneath his hooves, steppes giving way to grand mountains, mountains giving way to forests. Flashes of color passed beneath him all ripe with the thralls of summer, and sharp, crisp emerald eyes missed no detail as he soared overhead, mighty wings beating in tune to his pumping heart, propelling him towards his goal, his heart's desire.
First, he would land there, at the Court of the Rising Sun. There, he would greet whoever was in charge, introduce himself with the poise and eloquence required of a studious gentleman, and then proceed to inquire more about this land. After that, well... There were still three other sections of Novus to explore, to learn, to map, and Somnus had every intention on grasping it tight within his maw and never letting it go. This was a new challenge, a new opportunity to prove himself, and had never been one to squander a chance.
There!
The dark twisting spires were the first physical evidence of the Dawn Court in the distance, the tawny brick and mortar structure looming ever so proudly amidst the treetops. The closer he grew, the more easily he could spot it, and it was with breathless anticipation that the golden tactician spread his wings for the landing. The landing was smooth, with noticeable grace of the seasoned flyer, and Somnus' hooves landed upon the stone ground with a rhythmic staccato, gradually slowing until he came to a halt before the Court.
Sharp emerald eyes roamed every nook and cranny of the structure before him, the onyx of his horn glinting in the bright sunlight as he tucked strong, amber wings against broad, golden sides. There, standing at attention, he settled.
This was the Dawn Court, and this was where his story truly began.
08-07-2017, 07:51 AM - This post was last modified: 08-10-2017, 07:40 PM by Somnus
So recently, he’d felt much the same way - that this, finally, was the beginning.
And it was. But not of the story he’d imagined for himself. Not the one where he was given full-throated welcome, shown ancient scrolls and surrounded with soon-to-be fast friends. Not the one where at long last he’d met others like himself, those who wanted so very badly to belong and to become.
It seemed that the stories he’d gown up hearing had been outdated (not surprising, coming from Errol). The Dawn Court was not, at the moment, a beacon of knowledge or a light on a hill. Once it had been, and so he hoped it would be again, but at the moment it was too quiet - the kind that came not from heads bowed in study, but from empty hallways, quiet corridors, meadows that bloomed below lonely dawns.
There was, too, the matter of the maze, and the dragon, and the magic that seemed to seep below it all, ponderous and strange. In Charlemagne’s dreams he walked the corridors of the maze and fire licked the path behind him. His tail was still singed in places; he lacked both the will to shear it and a friend he trusted well enough to do the job.
No doubt Florentine would call it all an adventure. For his part, the unicorn was unable or unwilling to find a word for the churn of feelings in his heart.
Today found him in the courtyard of of Delumine, the summer sun warm on his back, songbirds and grasshoppers the bulk of his company. He thinks it a bird, at first, whose shadow over the stone catches his eye; as soon as his green-eyed gaze darts up, he realizes his mistake. The young stallion’s curiosity is quick to come to the fore; with pricked ears and a lifted head he watches as the creature lands, the clatter of his arrival breaking the stillness of the day.
For a long moment Charlemagne only watches him, admiration and caution warring together in his breast. Here, surely, was some prince or knight; such golden grace he has rarely seen. Only when the unicorn realizes there is no one else yet to greet him does he step forward, and with a dip of his own horn give the greeting that he himself had always longed to receive. “Welcome, stranger, to the Dawn Court.” His voice sound strange to him, more of his father than himself, and a few beats pass before he adds, “I hope the winds were in your favor?”
"What if I fall?"
"Oh, but my darling, what if you fly?"
The first thing that the golden tactician took note of was the impressive masonry of the Court. From the air it paled in comparison to the very glory that stood in front of him now, ancient stone cascading towards the heavens, aged spires reaching for the sun that they so loved and revered. It was a temple to those only devout enough, a sanctuary for those seeking refuge, a place of learning and knowledge, of fulfillment, of promise. It's old and weathered walls and winding hallways promised so much, ripe and ready to be plucked, but Somnus did not yet venture inside. There was, after all, so much more to be admired.
The second thing that he noticed, once his captivation of the Court had temporarily receded, was that he was not alone. No, another gentleman appeared to be finding solace in such a grand courtyard, and Somnus could not blame him in the slightest for seeking respite in such a place. Sharp emerald depths regarded the fellow cautiously, briefly wondering if he was the Lord whom resided in these very halls. He is a dark creature, this gentleman, a sleek liver chestnut alight with brilliant dapples that shone vividly in the ample sunlight. Flaxen locks adorned his neck and rump, curled about his undoubtedly masculine frame in a very suiting way. A golden horn, slightly curved towards the sky, sat proudly upon his brow.
With a fluttering of caramel feathers, his wings settle against flaxen sides, and Somnus listens with silence as he is greeted. The young stallion's manners are impeccable, welcoming the tactician with a polite sort of eloquence. Perhaps he is the Lord of the Court? His tongue certainly suggested such notion, or at least some kind of studious upbringing.
"Many thanks," Somnus begins, the elegant lilt of his accent light and airy amidst such professional company. It was all too easy to slip into the formal tongue of court despite his recent months of traveling, having served as chamberlain for Kings and Queens in his past. The chestnut's inquiry caused a quirked sort of grin to cross dark lips, a fleeting expression before it was gone and replaced by the tactician's neutral, professional expression. "Indeed. As though the Gods themselves carried me upon their backs did I fly."
Dipping his head towards the darkly gentleman, the onyx jewel of his crown glinting in the sunlight from the sweeping motion, Somnus steered their conversation towards necessary introductions. "I am Somnus, good sir. A pleasure." From his quick bow did he straighten, once more standing at attention to full height as though he were a soldier and not a scholar. Old habits died hard, after all, but Somnus took great care to ensure that he always looked presentable. "Are you, by chance, the Lord of the Court?"
@Charlemagne
08-10-2017, 07:39 PM - This post was last modified: 08-10-2017, 07:40 PM by Somnus
There was something almost strangely comforting about this meeting. It felt, to Charlemagne, at once familiar and yet warmer than any he’d actually had in his youth. It had all the trappings of his many times greeting a visiting lord or dignitary to his father’s home, but gone were the pressures of that role and the world it belonged to. It felt, in short, like a wish of home, more than the fact of it.
It helped that the stranger himself was so dignified, his accent clipped but words casually polite. He spoke like he looked, which was to say, commanding but not intimidatingly so. Charlemagne is put in mind of a gentleman scholar, or a learned knight, the kind that only existed in stories from his childhood library, and not in the reality of his life.
Until now, evidently.
And so it is easy enough to meet that smile, to nod at the response and allow green eyes to meet green. “I am glad to hear it, Somnus. Well met - I am Charlemagne.” Without consciously intending to, he echoes the golden stallion’s posture, and imagines that they made a courtly pairing, standing there on the cobblestones in the full sunlight, despite the other’s height over him.
And then the palomino asks him a question that punctures his little game of pretend.
At first the unicorn only blinks, and to his shame the thought that creeps through his mind, then, is that he should say yes. Why not, if he was pretending that he was some graceful diplomat, anyhow? If he could be anyone to this stranger, why not the king?
But that is a laughable thing, surely - a three-year-old sovereign who had only just escaped being mocked by his contemporaries. It is with effort that Charlemagne holds his posture, though the laugh that escapes him is a breezy, surprised thing, though mercifully brief. He shakes his head, and when he meets the golden stallion’s gaze once more, his smile is rueful. “I’m afraid I am not. I’m only a scholar here, recently arrived myself.” Still wearing that smile, he again takes in the courtyard around them, empty but for birds and trees and simple sunlight. What must Somnus think, to arrive at mighty Delumine and find it so still? “I’m not sure where our sovereign, Kasil, currently is.” He does not add that the king seems to prefer to keep to himself - or at least, Charlemagne has not often seen him out. “Is there something pressing that brings you?”
The unicorn hopes not; he feels ill-equipped to help with anything this courtly man could not handle himself.
"What if I fall?"
"Oh, but my darling, what if you fly?"
Charlemagne. That is the name of the elegant stranger standing before him now, the young, dapper chestnut stallion, drawing himself up to mimic Somnus' own profile, standing tall, proud, and at attention. Formal. Controlled. Body posture was a language all its own, and over the years, Somnus had become quite the master at reading it. Although shorter than the tactician, Charlemagne exuded the same proficient capabilities that he had come to expect from a learned fellow, his tongue eloquent, mannerisms impeccable, and respect utmost.
It set the winged dunalino at ease, knowing he was in capable, intelligent company, and, hopefully, in the company of one who could answer his listless questions. However, he knew better than to make immediate assumptions. Such notions had gotten him into ill tidings back in his younger years, and Somnus truly did not wish for any repeat performances. Such mistakes were below him now, as the golden stallion would not accept anything from himself save for perfection.
It seemed that his query as to Charlemagne's profession was rather abrupt, for the chestnut unicorn appeared momentarily baffled or taken aback by his boldness. Regret blossomed anew within Somnus' breast, worry nudging its way into the back of his skull. Had he presumed incorrectly? Indeed, it seemed, that he had, much to his chagrin, but Charlemagne did not seem to mind the flub. Instead, the young gentleman chuckles almost breathlessly, his smile rueful and somewhat coy, mirth shining in those wise emerald depths, and admits that he, too, is new to the Dawn Court. He also admits to be a scholar, and that sent a passionate thrill through the winged stallion and settled amidst his gut in a satisfying way.
Good. Good. Another he could coerce into late-night debates with, perhaps? It was hard to say, especially so early into their brief relationship.
"Ah," Somnus began, his tone noticeably apologetic, "My apologies. It was rude of me to assume, I fear." But he had gained some valuable information between the exchange. Their sovereign was named Kasil, and Somnus thought it odd that he was not out to greet those who ventured their way to his Court. Perhaps, in the following days, he would encounter this Kasil on his own and make his own greetings. After all, Somnus had not come to the point in his life where he was now by simply standing idle and letting the world pass him by.
"No, I am afraid not, good Charlemagne. Nothing pressing at all. I am simply here to hopefully serve the Dawn Court in any feat which I can, as well as hopefully one day settle and call this place my home. I am a learned scholar myself, and I wished to speak to his Lordship in regards to serving his Court with a sharp mind and tongue." They were, after all, far more useful to Somnus than the ruffling wings upon his shoulders or the spear of his horn, as he had never been much of a soldier. A strong mind could be far more precious than a strong weapon, after all.
Deciding to steer the conversation towards Charlemagne's own intentions and hoping to further understand the complexity of his brain, Somnus finally allowed himself to relax. His wings, great large feathers of amber speckled with alabaster tips, loosened their holds against pale flaxen sides, hanging far more relaxed than they had only moments before. Likewise, the golden tactician soothed his body, muscles uncoiling, and with a flick of an ivory tail upon a dorsal striped rump, did Somnus continue.
"And what brought you here, good Charlemagne? You claim that you are also recent to the Court... May I ask, what drew you to this hilltop?"
@Charlemagne
"There is nothing noble in being superior to your fellow man; true nobility is being superior to your former self."
“Not at all,” he replies, flicking his honey-gold tail against his hocks. “I take it as a compliment.” Indeed, now that the truth was out and the temptation to lie vanquished, he did feel a little thrill of pride, that such a stranger found him a potential ruler. At least those lessons of his father’s had taken; his manners had always been much better than his sparring.
And sparring, it seemed, would not be an issue with Somnus. It’s still a relief to hear him name himself a scholar, though not a surprise - it was clear from the way he spoke, the way he stood. There is nothing of him that looks out of place in the courtyard of the castle of the dawn. It’s enough to draw the smile - that first one, warm as the sun - back to Charlemagne’s face, and when he nods the sunlight glances off his golden horn. “I’ve no doubt you’ll be welcomed, and gladly.” Better, even, than he had been - for surely nobody could ignore such a man as this, nor did he seem the type to let himself be ignored. He would do well here, and already the young unicorn felt gladness, not jealousy, at the thought.
He glances away as the golden man relaxes, letting his own stance loosen. The world is still quiet around them, save for the warbling of birds and the susurrus of wind through the leaves. It is nothing like the maze, here, and yet that sound makes him shiver. He is glad when Somnus speaks again, and he turns back to the stallion, hiding his surprise at the question. In all his weeks here, nobody had asked him why he’d come. It warms him even further to the man, though he recounts his past as quickly as he can.
“I grew up in a nation some weeks’ travel from here - one that valued war and conquering far more than knowledge and peace. I did not fit in, I’m afraid. As a child I treasured the stories I heard of the Dawn Court, and always wanted to be a part of such a place. When I could, I came.” It is enough, for now; there is no reason for him to speak of his findings since his arrival, of magic and monsters and mazes, the disappointments of his own character that were becoming clear to him in each dismal interaction. Such troubles were his own - and anyway, they seemed distant enough, between Somnus and the sunlight that made shadows below the summer leaves.
It’s to the newcomer he looks again, eyes the same green as those leaves, and tilts his head toward the grand building behind him. “Shall I show you in? Perhaps Kasil is within, and if not, certainly others who would be glad to welcome you. And I would be glad to hear how you learned of Delumine.”
Charlemagne loosens his stance in turn with Somnus' own show of relaxation, and it does not miss the golden tactician's watchful eye. Nor does the smile that lights up the younger man's face, lips turning upwards in a genuine show of pleasure that, honestly, Somnus is quite taken aback by. He looks good like that, the former chamberlain realizes, with a smile as warm as the summer sun, vast verdant eyes positively glowing in his joy, his eagerness, his willingness, positively palpable and equally as contagious. He is happy, thrilled, Somnus realizes, at some thought all of his own, and Charlemagne's following words warm him to the core.
"You humble me, Charlemagne," the dunalino states, the clipped accent of his voice soft and unpretentious with his words, "Truly. My thanks." He could only hope that the gentlemanly scholar was correct, and that he would be welcomed and his assistance appreciated. It did no good for one to throw themselves completely into the fray, to only be ignored or pushed aside and underappreciated. Somnus hoped that such things would not be the case here in the Dawn Court, not when it clearly held so much promise.
Then, as he was a studious and polite fellow, Somnus hushed himself, listening with forward ears and interested emerald eyes as Charlemagne went on to indulge a bit about himself. He listened with keen, rapt attention, nodding at times that felt appropriate. The dappled gentleman spoke of his own home, miles upon miles from where they stood at that very moment, and the creed that it had lived by. A place solely dedicated to pursuing a war path seemed fruitless and brutish to Somnus, but he would not say so in fear of upsetting Charlemagne, nor possibly offending him. Instead, the dunalino held his tongue and continued to listen. A part of him was thrilled when the other admitted that he had never truly fit in or belonged within the confines of his old home, and Somnus was relieved that he had found the courage to leave such a lifestyle behind in favor of finding something more true, more right to himself. There was nothing more poisoning than to pretend to be something that you were not, after all.
"Then I am just as pleased to see that you are here today to welcome me," Somnus began, dipping his head once more and a warm, easy-going smile upturned the dunalino's dark lips, "It must have taken a considerable amount of courage for you to face such a change. I'm elated for you, and I hope that you have found the Dawn Court to be all that you have wanted and hoped for."
Charlemagne's next offer is one of camaraderie, of brotherhood, and the potential continuation of conversation and relationship building. Somnus was discovering that he could stand and listen to Charlemagne speak for hours and perhaps never grow bored. That was good. The perfect type of mental stimulation that the tactician had craved for a very long time, and had hoped that he would find within Novus.
"Yes, I believe that would be quite satisfactory. The citadel looks rather vast, and I would loathe to become lost and make a fool of myself upon my first venture inside. Thank you again, my friend." With another ruffle of flecked caramel feathers, Somnus turned to begin the trek towards the rising citadel of mortar and masonry and trusted Charlemagne to accompany him, his hooves creating a soothing repetition to his ears with every step that he took.
@Charlemagne(t) - <3 Sorry for the wait, hun! Also, I didn't know if you wanted to perhaps wrap this thread up and we could continue another? Or we can continue this one! Just give me a holler!
"There is nothing noble in being superior to your fellow man; true nobility is being superior to your former self."
