Guilt writhed inside of Luvena. She was a champion candidate, a member of the court, one who had welcome Ira with open arms as their new sovereign, and yet her she was, stood yards away from the city walls, missing the festival, and with no intentions to join everyone in time for the coronation. “You could just go for the very end” Picoro murmured softly, his breath whispering over her thin mane. “When the festival is mostly over, offer your congratulations to Ira”
She shook her head. “I cant.” she replied, her voice very nearly shaking, and Yara pressing up against her legs. “I’ll offer Ira my congratulations and well wishes after.” When the smoke has cleared, she thought. She knew her absence might be noted, she had so far put her name out to many as a participant in the trials, and she was making a bit of a name for herself as a healer on the outskirts of the market. She could have told Ira she wouldn’t be there, told him why. But somewhere, shame curdled inside her, for the panic that grew even from this distance.
“Why watch from here then?” Picoro asked, “Why not go visit Rhone in Terrastella, or Galileo in Solterra”. She didn’t respond. Though the sight in front of her made her want to cower, she couldn’t turn her gaze away from it, as if her head was stuck in place, her hooves cemented to the earth.
They had had a similar festival in Herstial, except theirs was on the winter solstice, and celebrated something far darker. It was a remembrance of the day Ma Testri had been killed, burned alive, hundreds of years ago, by her many many times great-grandfather. As a child she had thought it such a joyous day, one where they feasted and sang songs around the massive bonfire, haunting tunes, with reeds and drums singing behind them. And at midnight, they too had a burning horse, but theirs was a gruesome and twisted woven willow depiction of the witch. One that was carried in by her mother and father, and chucked, somewhat unceremoniously into the flames.
She used to relish in the smell of smoke after, even as it had burned her weak lungs. Had watched everyone dance with glee around the dying embers while she sat quietly to the side, between her mother and father. Oftentimes she looked at the crowns they each wore, her fathers a heavy metal circlet, so finely crafted, to look like interwoven branches of willow, but all cast in silver, imported from one of the neighboring kingdoms. Her mothers matched in style, but the interwoven silver was made to resemble a flower chain instead, with all sorts of wildflower shapes bursting out of the mane frame. Each was secured to their head with strands of braided hair woven into the circlets. She remembered when she was very small, at her first festival, marvelling at the way the firelight danced on the silver.
She had seen, in the jewelry room, the circlets she was supposed to don as she grew. They had ones made for both a prince and a princess of course, just in case. Each a combination of her parents crowns, willow branches twisted together, but the ones meant to be hers cast in rose gold instead. The smallest one had only carvings of flower buds, but with each size up they blossomed into full flowers.
They had of course, decided as soon as she was born, that she would never be able to carry such a thing on her head, and so they had stored them away, and instead had a new set made from her. Her’s was virtually the same, but instead of metal, it was carved from light wood, and to maintain some sort of finesse, they had carved swirling lines into each piece. She had only worn that rose gold crown once, on the day of her wedding, the day of her husband's coronation.
It struck her suddenly that she was , technically, still married. Those days, flames had held warmth. The solstice, and not just that, but quiet nights sitting by the fire with her parents, and grandparents, a warm fur draped across her withers. The quiet bonfires that often flickered among the poorer areas, as families gathered to share what they had and tell stories. Often she snuck out to join them. None of that though could quell what had taken its place.
She had watched with caution all summer as they had started preparing the pyre. It was easy to tell who was part of the proper construction and who wasn’t. Craftsmen hired by the regime came into the city with carts full of logs, likely harvested from around the lake, or the foothills of the mountains, and carefully placed them inside of the stone circle that had been placed down early on. But other court members pitched in too, weavers put their scraps into the bottom, as kindling. Carvers would put their failed projects in as extra fuel. Luvena did her best not to watch.
She watched as they started, knowing they had lit the burning horse when the first tendrils of smoke curled up above the stone walls. Slowly it grew, until she could see the tips of the flames flickering upwards, flinching every time a spark flew upwards. Even from here she could smell the smoke, which billowed upwards. Even at this distance she could feel herself tensing.
It had looked the same way that day in Herstial, though there had been more than one tower of smoke. They had curled into the sky, and she had had only a moment to watch, before she found herself being rushed away, and before she knew it was running, her legs almost immediately crying out beneath her, coughing as smoke filled her lungs. Her crown came loose with the braids on her head, lost somewhere behind her, and looking up she could see her parents, too, no longer donned theirs.
Crucis had looked different, the trees far too high, and thick, for any of them to see the sky. Instead it was raging flames all around them, unimaginably tall trees falling across escape routes, and smoke so thick you could hardly see them to begin with. She wished her mind had been too muddled afterwards for her to remember any of it. But she could still recall every moment. Fleeing through the fire, pressed up between Io Kairavi and Orchid. A log blocked their path, and she remembered being pushed to go first. She had fallen on her landing, which was no surprise, what was thought was that she had made it over at all. Orchid has followed, urging her back to her feet.
And she would never forget the moment after, as the flames had suddenly risen higher, with Io still behind them. Her scream as she launched herself through them. The scar that had lingered forever after. They had been split up at some point, all stumbling off separately, trying to heave the smoke out of their lungs. She had woken up near the lunar mountains some time later.
It was her and Oberon who had first started to restore the burned portions of the forest. Naming them the kings clearing, after Vander. They had planted a new tree there, buried an idol. But she had never felt comfortable standing in those ashes.
She shuddered, though she wasn’t sure if it was from the chilling breeze that came with autumn, or if it was from the chilling onset of memories. Her ears flickered back at the sound of footsteps far behind her, and a moment later Mithras barking overshadowed them. She made no effort to turn around though, she was still within eyesight of the city's guards, and it would be foolish of anyone to try anything here.
“Lu?” Picoro started, startling her, as she had slipped back into her thoughts, still staring at the faint glow ahead. “I think it’s Israfel” She paid him almost no mind, still lingering on the image of three crowns, sunken into the ashes. The orange light of embers flickering off the silver and gold.
Israfel’s vermilion eyes glittered like rubies with the distant firelight as she came to stand by Luvena’s side, her gaze staring outward, watching the flickering, twisting light that lit up Denocte with a sense of yearning.
Denocte was… Different. It wasn’t like the quiet, neutral solitude that Terrastella had practiced for years, tucked away on their remote cliffsides. It was loud, jovial, and social. It was expressive. Every evening the streets of the market were lit up on display, with crowds of citizens perusing the vendors, entertainers, singers, and dancers performing upon every corner. It was filled with a liveliness, with a sense of community and understanding and individuality that Terrastella always seemed to lack.
Perhaps it was simply the perseverance of the equine who called the place home. Perhaps it was the influence of Caligo, who so desperately wished to be different than her brothers and sister, to shine above the rest, to prove that she was more than the mixture in her blood.
Israfel couldn’t blame her. The feeling was mutual.
Inhaling deeply and smelling smoke upon the breeze, a scent that always cooled the burn in her blood, the Sun Daughter’s piercing ruby gaze shifted to rest upon Luvena’s narrow features. She stared for a moment, rose-kissed lips frowning thoughtfully at her friend’ faraway stare, the vacant look in her eyes yet her thin face tight with tension. A fine brow arched curiously, and slowly did the woman stretch out a gilded wing to breach the sparse distance between them and gently run a feather against Luvena’s slender shoulder.
“Lu?”
@Luvena - please excuse this absolutely trash piece of a post, I didn't want to stress about it too much in fear I'd never write it ;o;
She heard Israfel’s first words the way you’d hear an echo on the wind, soft and distant, registering only as a brief disturbance in the world, not enough to distract one from whatever else they were doing. Mithra was the first to greet the woman, winding around her legs, more cat-like than dog. Yara dutifully stood by her side, though her tail wagged at the sight of company.
Luvena jumped at the touch, lifted slightly from her daze, she finally pulled her gaze away from the fire, though the flames still seemed to flicker behind her eyes. She shuddered again, realizing now just how cold it was out in the autumn night. “Isra” she replied quietly, her voice still faraway, as she turned her head back towards the court, fearful that if she looked away for too long the flames would jump their way. “Sorry I…” she trailed off, unsure of how to finish the sentence she’d started ‘Sorry I was consumed by the thought of being burned alive’ didn’t seem to cut it as a greeting
“I thought you’d be joining the festivities…” she murmured instead, glancing again briefly at the sun spangled woman. The golden gilded feathers that Luvena knew could be lit in a heartbeat, though she had never seen it herself. But she knew a phoenix when she saw one, flames or no. And they rarely flocked to those who didn’t share their affinity for the heat. “Though I’ll admit I’m… glad to have some company”
Even so her heart fluttered in her chest every time she saw the flames dance just a hair faster, burn a touch brighter. “How are you finding Denocte?” she asked, attempting to pull her thoughts away from the blaze, though the words came out hollow.
By no means was Israfel a professional when it came to ‘proper ways of tending to one’s mental health.’ Quite the opposite, if she were being honest, because her thoughts of drowning her sorrows were just that; finding a full bottle of amber whiskey and drink until her worries, fears, doubts, anxieties were gone.
And boy, did Denocte know how to partake in such nefarious activities.
Despite her own tendencies, however, the Sun Daughter knew that the heady kiss of whiskey was not what Luvena needed. Ruby red eyes glanced momentarily down at the two dogs that accompanied Luvena, arching a brow at them but not minding as one wove between her legs in a welcome. She made a mental note to refrain from stepping on them, accidentally of course, and focused once more on the real reason she was here.
Dissociation was very real. Isra knew that, although she had hardly experienced such a thing before. She wondered, briefly, what had shook Luvena so thoroughly to reduce her to such a state, to pull the rug out from beneath those trembling legs and leave her sprawling and owlish, skittish and afraid.
”Hey,” she responded gently, the soothing tone not too far off from the ones she used when Charlie was but a youngling roused from a night terror, ”It’s fine. You don’t have to apologize to me, Lu.”
Silence stretched between them once more and Israfel heaved a breath. The smoke on the breeze relaxed her, but it seemed to do the opposite for Lu. That was concerning, and she wondered, well… She wondered. Keeping the downy touch of her wing pressed against the slender mare’s shoulder, the Sun Daughter went on gently, vermilion gaze focusing back out across the distant bonfires that raged merrily throughout the streets of Denocte.
“Eh. It was a little too loud for me. I think I’m still getting used to it… And, I much prefer your company to that of a bunch of strangers overfilling their cups.” She grinned, eyes dancing in the firelight, and swiftly kept talking. Hopefully her words could prove to be some sort of distraction to what wrought such merciless ire upon Luvena, and even if it left Isra herself rambling like an idiot? Well, she had behaved strangely at worse times. Really, this was nothing new.
”I’m settling. It’s different here, you know, than Terrastella. Nice, but… Loud. I guess I’ve just grown used to the silence of the hospital and general peace of the city, so this will take some getting used to.” It wasn’t bad, no. Israfel was just used to being the loudest in the room, and moving here had completely changed that. She had already engaged (cornered) Ira (in an alleyway at night) for a promotion, which had been given surprisingly easily considering the two of them hardly knew one another. Of course, Isra knew she had quite the impressive resume, but even the ivory woman had been surprised at how easily Ira had given out the title of ‘battlemage’.
Breaking in her speech, Israfel paused for a few moments. She lingered, shifting uncomfortably from hoof to hoof, wondering what else it was she could say. Brows furrowed and she dared a step closer, ready to pull back if Lu reacted negatively. The last thing she wanted to do was make her friend uncomfortable, and ‘boundaries’ was not something Israfel easily understood.
She couldn’t shake it. The feeling that those flames would creep over the walls and outside the court. They would wash over Novus and consume it. She knew that it wasn’t reasonable. That the pyre was controlled. That most of the court was stone. That the walls were a container. This wasn’t herstial, a land of wood and flowers. Yet still, all she could see was a burning land.
And the memory of that day. The pain of her lungs as she breathed in gasps of smoke. The crackle of flames, heard just over screams. The one look back she’d taken. Just to see him, all darkness and fury, a smile on his face, flames swirling around him, eating everything in their path. Just as they had poured from Razikale in the woods.
Her voice was soft. It reminded Luvena of her own mothers. Gentle… but firm. Adina was a strong woman. Despite having a seemingly delicate frame, she was all muscle and agility. Yet, she was always the compassion of the throne. Where her father was stern, and stoic, Adina was laughter and joy.
“Mmhm” she acknowledged halfheartedly. “Denoctians do love to celebrate.” She was only half catching every other word. Distracted by the charred scent on the air. She could feel Picoro shifting on her back, pulling his claws through her thin mane. She took a shaky breath. Trying to pull her focus onto the feeling of knots snagging, and on the voice beside her. Squeezing her eyes shut she tried to listen.
“It took me some time too,” she murmured. “But it’s nice… the distraction. In Terrastella nothing is louder than your own thoughts.” In the hospital it was all she could hear, unless she busied herself in with some of the other medics. The temple had been nice that way. There was always some apprentice to heal, always some herbs to grind. It was peaceful, but it was never quiet.
The question nearly flew over her head, though she managed to catch it a moment later. She dropped her head, shaking it quietly. “No I um…” she didn't know how to find the words. How to tell a woman made of fire and gold that the former made her lose all rationale like nothing else could. She turned her gaze to Israfel, trying to ignore the flickering from the corner of her eye. “The last time I saw flames like this I-” she was trying desperately to keep her voice from breaking, her whole body from trembling. “Twice now flames like those have taken everything from me” she muttered, her words hardly audible. Ashamed? Of the way it made her heart flutter perhaps. She didn’t know what she felt. She hadn’t told many. How silly to admit that she was horrified of something that kept other warm in their homes? Gave them good food to eat. “I dont want.. I can’t-” her voice was breaking now as she shook. Her turquoise gaze was back on the flames. Still fearful that if she looked away they would creep up on her.
