The sun was ridiculously hot today, a beacon of far off burning hellfire that by rights, should have burnt Solterra and The Day Court (his beautiful lip curled) into ashes long ago. Alas, it had not, and so he was stuck here fawning in the fire. At least the sun suited him - the satin resplendence of his skin responded to the sunlight gloriously, shining in all the right places, curving around the slick lines of his elegant frame and setting the gold upon him aflame.
Velorca lounged arrogantly within the walls of the Court, leaning lazily against the baking walls with a confidence and a sublimity that suggested he owned the place. He offered suggestive winks and lazy, cattish smiles to the prettier men about the fortress now and again, mainly for fun - though his eyes had flashed with real interest at a particularly delectable young soldier. The other man had hurried by without a second glance, earning a disgusted snort from the elegant courtier as he relaxed back against the walls once more.
Ever since Maxence had come in and restored some small semblance of order everyone had been on their best behaviour, marching about in a militaristic fashion as if Zolin himself had returned. Zolin. The name brought a darkness to his elegant, razor edged face, a keenness and cruelty to his intelligent amber gaze. He blinked and the darkness was gone, swallowed by silver and ebony lashes and an apathetic stare. How many years had he been a prisoner here? His whole life, it seemed, though the last few years he hadn't had physical shackles. The mental ones remained, though. Where would he go if not here? His tribe was gone, except for her, and his home was the desert - why not live in the luxury of the courts, seeping up information until he could be of use again?
@Avdotya and open!
08-17-2017, 02:41 AM
Played by
Rae [PM] Posts: 301 — Threads: 41 Signos: 15
"Eternal sunrise, eternal sunset, eternal dawn and gloaming, on sea and continents and islands, each in its turn, as the round earth rolls."
- - -
The story begins before the first word is even thought of.
It starts before the father, before the mother, before their fathers and mothers. Before there are memories.
It unfolds now with each step, the dirt pressed beneath each hoof, and the dirt beneath the dirt, and the rocks beneath that. It unfolds and curls back into itself. The horizon dances with a heat he is not accustomed to. His body responds with sweat, lazy sweat- different than the frothy sweat of a fight or a hard run. As he wanders through his new home--
(Home was once the long cold winter)
He wonders how the walls were built, how old they are, the stories they'd tell. He sticks to the shade where he can find it and winds along the walls. It is not long until he finds himself before someone who looks very shiny and rather unapproachable. So he approaches. He isn't eager to make new friends but feels a sense of obligation to introduce himself. And besides- this world is still very much new to him. He isn't really sure if he's even in the right place, although it feels right. The heat that slaps you in the face and the smell of sweat and sand and blue sky- a sense of... of rightness settles over him like a blanket.
"Eik." He states, the word spoken with the odd lilt of his accent. It sounds like ache. He blinks twice. "My name," he clarifies. He shoes the flies that gather on sweaty, scar-flecked hindquarters with a lazy flick of his tail. He tilts his head, as though asking a question.
The memories, they build upon memories. And the story continues.
Immune to the drenching scent of decay upon the air, Maxence hastily soared over each rock and stacked stone that made up the monolithic walls of the Elatus Canyon. The stretched, sinking skin of the dead teryr was a pleasing sight to behold to the man who had struck it down, though, not pleasing enough to bring a smile to his frozen face - forever he scowled; his brows never raising and only ever bending to a relentless glare and, if ever he did smile, it was as rare as a red diamond.
But his journey was at an end, his flight descending, and that was enough to at least ease a sigh from his thin, tightly pressed lips.
Reaching to the ground beneath with a foreleg first and followed by the other, then the final two, Maxence landed with a swoosh of his behemoth wings and a crumpling stamp of all four feet meeting the slab of sand and stone beneath. The entire movement was enough to create a brief sandstorm, the wind current bending to the will of those two falcon-shaped wings and sending sand, sticks and stones in an outwards burst - it was for this reason that he had landed a few hundred feet from the north side of the court buildings. He would hate to disturb any of it's inhabitants.
Shrugging the lion's head that accompanied him back into place upon his rump and straightening his harness, Maxence had soon approached the new castle he had come to call home. It was quiet just like most days with only the howl of the wind and the gentle murmuring hum of another's voice near by, each to their own and going about their daily business and routine.
Easily the sovereign observed two strangers, both men he had never beheld. A gilded grey and the other not dissimilar in colour but a dazzling mottled white - both seemed agreeable, albeit completely different. The darker wore jewels instead of scars and seemed right at home in a place where he was a stranger to the king; the other, Maxence was not so sure.
But the commander would not stare forever and he fully intended to remedy the fact that they were strangers.
"You there" the commander bellowed, striding forth to meet them with his eternal bitchy-resting-face "Why have I not seen either of you before? Are you new to our barracks? Don't tell me you're flower pickers..." This question was mainly aimed toward the jewelled man and as he spoke, he took in a deep breath through his nose in an attempt to sniff out any tell-tale scents of the other courts. He still had a nasty prejudice against anyone from the Dawn Court. (aka. flower pickers.) This entire place was, after all, a fortress. Everyone no matter which rank they worked in was a fighter - anyone who wasn't was as much as dead. Already Maxence had assumed their answer, and he didn't much care if they were not (It's not like they were tourists).
"Names?" He then asked of them, sinking onto one of his back hips and allowing another leg to rest.
It was not often that Avdotya walked the stone halls of the great keep. There was no fondness for it in her heart, only a deep-seated sense of ire that still lingered from many years past... and yet here she walked, her hooves clattering against the cold floor as she strode through. She recalled her last visit being very different, her spear coated in king's-blood and her heart ablaze with a fury it had never felt before. The woman almost cracked a smile at the thought of Zolin dying at her feet; the satisfaction she felt while opening his throat was nothing she had ever felt before, nor had she felt it again since. It was almost a shame that so few knew it was her who had assassinated the boy king- in fact, only one other knew of her deeds, and his scent seemed to float among the halls this very moment.
The mare's attention averted itself from her thoughts and suddenly focused on the familiar, sweet smell of the man. He was not one she expected to see here, but then again, she had never anticipated ever coming back again herself, either. What motives did he have, she wondered.
When she found him, he was already in the company of two men, one being Maxence himself. She stopped a fair distance away from the trio and looked at Velorca with a suspicious eye. It seemed he had a knack for drawing kings in. "That one is no flower child." She interrupted firmly while she gestured at the darker stallion. Avdotya had no intention of clarifying who he was, that was his prerogative, but she could not help voicing their familiarity with each other if only to catch Velorca's attention. Of course, she suspected all she had to do was arrive to achieve that.
The woman remained where she stood, away from them and at the crook of the foyer. She examined the stallion she did not know for a fleeting moment, but did not concern herself with him for now; her interest held steady on Velorca, curious to watch him with the newly minted sovereign. Perhaps he would take a liking to him, too.
"Eternal sunrise, eternal sunset, eternal dawn and gloaming, on sea and continents and islands, each in its turn, as the round earth rolls."
- - -
The scarred grey stallion is still new to this land and has yet to meet a soul here. Yet before he knows it there are two before him. He instinctively takes a step back as the other swaggers forward. It is not in his nature to bow down to a stranger, even if that stranger is his king, and so he turns to face the larger, decorated stallion without expression. He notes the man's large wings and they make his shoulders feel funny. He is still not used to seeing wings or clothes or magic of any kind, and it makes him a bit uncomfortable.
Words boom out of the man's mouth, and Eik is surprised to find that he is impressed by the man's presence. Impressed but not intimidated. The words flow so quickly that it is only the last statement that truly catches Eik's attention. Flower picker? He is unfamiliar with the term and for a moment puzzlement flashes across his face. He senses that it is derogatory, but is not sure who or what exactly the great winged stallion is referring to. "The white ones taste good." It is half statement, half question, and he says it with a straight face. His voice dances with that odd lilt, the accent of the northlands.
Another one joins them now, and although she keeps her distance Eik takes a step away. He is now surrounded by strangers, and it makes him wary. They are all colorful or decorated or both, and this flamboyance in tandem with the walls that surround him makes him feel a bit as if he's stumbled into an uncomfortable dream.
"Eik, I'm new." The thought of being new at anything is amusing to him (he feels ancient) "Who are you?" He is becoming a bit impatient with not knowing a thing. The heat is oppressive and he misses the depths of winter, cold and hard and lonely.
- - -
E I K
@Velorca @Maxence @Avdotya
:D
08-20-2017, 12:41 PM - This post was last modified: 08-20-2017, 12:41 PM by Eik
Lorca's keen gaze settled on the approaching man, cold and unwelcoming, looking over the scars and dirt that speckled the warrior's hide and seeing imperfection rather than history. He sneered, looking the stranger up and down with unmistakeable judgement as the man spoke, friendly enough - Lorca probably could have done with a friend like Eik, someone stoic and unflappable. Alas, Velorca rarely had friends.
"And?"
Was his rude response, his voice cold and derogatory as he stared down Eik. He glanced at the sweat streaks upon the mans hide with disgust, lip curling as he readied himself to say something cruel and unnecessary - he was saved the bother by the arrival of Maxence. Their new Sovereign. He thought the word in his head bitterly, glaring through the barked orders he received, a hateful smile upon his soft, pampered lips. He opened his delectable mouth with an arrogant smile, burnt-butter gold eyes flashing with an answer when all of a sudden he felt her enter.
Lorca turned his delicate head so quickly he felt his mane follow after, slapping against his soft skin like silk as he watched Avdotya approach. His gaze trailed over her swiftly, lingering on the scars he had actually witnessed the creation of.
"Velorca"
Was his admission, the only sincere thing he had said all day.
" - and I'd appreciate it, Sir" the word was said with a callousness that grated even Lorca's satin skin, "if you went back to fucking that manky old lion on your back and left Solterra to rule herself."
He smirked, sharing a glance with Eik as if the other man would applaud his ridiculous display of insubordination.
@Avdotya @Eik @Maxence omg i'm so sorry! Max is free to punish Lorca however he wants!
Her voice was a brontide, the kind that rumbled on a summer night and promised rain. The regent's word assured Maxence that the seal-coloured stag was certainly no stranger to Solterra, and as the bleached fellow beside him began to speak he came to realise just how different the pair were.
Eik was the name of the paler fellow, and it seemed he was very new if he was needed to ask after who Maxence was. It didn't shock the commander that he didn't know who he was and certainly didn't offend him, though he did question what the fellow was doing here is he had not heard of Solterra's revolution. Grinding his teeth together as he searched for an answer (who was he?), it was then that the joker spoke with words that immediately leeched their way under his skin.
"--if you went back to fucking that manky old lion on your back and left Solterra to rule herself."
It was these words that caused Maxence to toss his nose to one side, almost needing to take double the time to process what had just been said. All the while his perperual frown hardly moved, not up nor down, and instead the king gazed back at this Velorca with a dull and unimpressed countenance. Maxence had been expecting this kind of reception from the Solterran's of old, but nothing he had prepared himself involved any suggestion of beastiality.
"Funny," Maxence begun with knitted brows, his eternal scowl now deepening the longer he spent with his eyes affixed upon the other stag's. "Very funny" he continued, venom lacing every word. If only this little worm knew the significance of the lion's head upon his back and the reason the wearer had earned the right to wear it, the blood he had spilled, the wars he had won, the people he had lost. "But those are big words for a runt like you,"
It was not often that Avdotya found herself an apparent bystander, but here she was witnessing the picture of the male gender in all its shining glory. One was utterly lost in the sudden change of pace, another was verbally spitting in the face of Solterra's sovereign, and the last - that very sovereign - predictably retaliated to the insubordination with swift ease. All in the blink of a fiery copper eye.
The woman parted her lips to speak, but before she could even spill a single word, Maxence so eloquently placed a final cherry atop the heap of steaming shit they had just dropped. Her ears flattened for half a moment at his last statement. While the nation surely bore no greatness in its time without a ruler, she knew quite well that it was far better of an option than what they had last endured with Zolin. In her mind, she would rather see Solterra waste away from desolation than watch it suffer in the hooves of a pompous fool. While she may have misinterpreted his intentions in spewing those words, it still struck her as a naive thing to say.
But that was not the first instance of that feeling in this brief gathering.
Avdotya's eyes traveled to Velorca with the heat of Solis himself behind them. The way he so blatantly drew attention to himself made her wonder if he'd even learned a thing from his years with the Davke. She nearly felt shame for him, but that would be his burden to carry in the form of whatever punishment Maxence dealt him. Her focus then shifted to the man who was the least of her concern and she offered a mere raise of her brow. "It seems you have found yourself among fine company, Eik." She said with a overtly caustic touch to her voice. "How fortunate for you."
"Eternal sunrise, eternal sunset, eternal dawn and gloaming, on sea and continents and islands, each in its turn, as the round earth rolls."
- - -
Well that escalated quickly. Eik isn't one for drama and petty squabbles. He is straightforward and simple- a warrior at heart, but with a sense of nobility. He won't fight for the sake of fighting, and certainly won't pick a fight without a reason. From the conversation at hand he determines the winged one must be the ruler here, so who exactly is this Velorca, who acts as though he were king? Eik meets his glance without expression.
The thought crosses through his mind that he has yet to meet anyone who seems happy to be here.
The woman speaks of fortune, and briefly he ponders the gods. Perhaps it truly was fortune that brought him here, as she sarcastically suggested. He is unacquainted with the gods in these lands, yet they must hold some sway-- he feels there is some reason for his being here, though only time will tell what that is. It is probably not the company.
He takes a step closer to the mare-- or rather, away from Velorca. The bickering before him seems disgraceful. It is one thing to blatantly challenge a man to battle, but to fight with words-- that is the coward's way. And within their own court, no less. "Aren't we the same people?" He asks the woman, or anyone who will answer, though the two stallions seem rather occupied at the moment. He is unashamed of his ignorance. It doesn't matter to him whether he is scorned or not- when he has a question, all that matters is the answer.
He'd struck a nerve. Though truth be told the old warrior was probably full of easily struck nerves, with a temper like his. Lorca smirked, unperturbed by the threats of a new king - he'd heard enough of them from the old one. Lorca didn't particularly like being called a runt though, especially when it was so obvious the two of them were the same height. It irked him enough to retort, although his lips had barely parted when he heard Avdotya's unmistakeable voice, a cold flush of outrage running through his svelte body at her suggestion. To put him in with Maxence, to support the slaver that held generations of chains... he only hoped she had ulterior motives.
"No, we're not."
Velorca suddenly snapped, turning on Eik with a sneer. Solterrans would never understand the massacre of his people, would never own up to the slaughter and the slavery performed under the rule of foreign kings. Maxence was just another in a long line of foreigners wanting to own Solterra in all her wild glory. The Davke hadn't wanted to own the land, they'd wanted to live there, untamed and wild, savage but strong. Velorca turned his lupine eyes back to Maxence slowly, examining him and curling his lip in distaste. He spent a single glance on Avdotya, expression remote as he savoured a look at one of the few of his people that had remained alive, then stepped closer to Maxence, saying softly;
"Solterra ruled herself eons before you ever stepped foot in this land. I was born on this sand."
His long lashed gaze turned contemptuous, his voice soft and sensual.
"Foreign Kings never last."
OOC; much sass, much idiocy haha sorry for late reply!! @Eik @Maxence @Avdotya
