He was new here. So very new and so very unsure. Even the questions that so often came easy to his tongue stayed squeezed in his throat. He slipped in late, just in time to hear the naming of people he didn't know to positions he didn't understand and the laying down of laws that burned sourly in his gut. What god were they even following? He people had little to say of gods. Their ancestors watched over them, and the wind had created them. But it was still only the wind, a force of nature with no true mind or will. Nerves twitched the shimmering gold of his coat and he kept his pale eyes downcast, watching the horses around him with furtive glances beneath snowy veils of lashes. The reactions around him seemed largely positive, though it was hard to read bodies he did not know. Was the cock of an ear a sign of irritation or simply a turning of the attention to another source? A shaking a head disapproval, or momentary distraction?
Wide nostrils flared as the slim stallion gave a soft puff of breath and he sidled a little closer to the wall until his haunches brushed stone. His hooves set down with care to avoid untoward noise. A prayer next? Uncertain about this whole ritual, he hoped that being in the back of the crowd would save him any embarrassment. For now he needed to watch and learn and find his place in this new home. There were those here who reminded him a little of the horses he had grown up around yet they seemed sharper somehow. At least he was close to the exit. As soon as this was over he could get out of the confined space and into the open air in the hopes that it would clear his head and chase away the nagging doubts and insecurity that preyed on the edges of his mind. And maybe he would find someone who wouldn't mind answering some of the questions locked behind his closed lips.
JUST LIKE FIRE, BURNING OUT THE WAY
IF I CAN LIGHT THE WORLD UP FOR
JUST ONE DAY WATCH THIS MADNESS
COLORFUL CHARADE NO ONE CAN
BE JUST LIKE ME ANYWAY
She watches the gathering in silence, those that approach, the ones that speak. Maxence doesn't take long to speak his piece in a booming voice. A welcoming, plus the naming of his court hierarchy. Avdotya, Seraphina, Torstein. None of these surprise her, not even when the king lists his champions. Bexley, Leviathan.... Inkheart. Again none of these names surprise her, including her own. After all, she's not even sure she's heard mention of other sages in the Day Court. Warrior after warrior, sure. Sages? She doesn't bother to glance around at the gathering. Though her face remains calm and stoic, she's smiling satisfactorily inside.
Maxence lists a whole bunch of rules, and she listens, making an effort to commit them all to memory. She's sure she will end up breaking one or more of them at some point, but in the meantime, she will toe the line. She glances around her, watching the reactions of the crowd. A couple of new faces have appeared, no one she recognizes from travels. Everyone seems to be exchanging glances, looking at each other. Idly the dark mare wonders what might be communicated in those glances, what those silent thoughts are.
Her sleek ears perk up as Maxence asks her to lead them all in prayer. She dips her crown, a purr rumbling through him. In her deep velvety voice she says, "Gladly, my King." She may not be 100% behind him every step of the way, but he still had her support, and she would play the loyal citizen. Inkheart moves toward the center of the dais, daring to step up next to, maybe a few inches in front of Maxence as she faces the crowd. She is the queen of the spiritual kingdom. The Friesian wonders what Maxence will have to say about her boldness, or if he will care at all. As she spoke, passion infused in her voice, she is careful to meet the eye of anyone who dares to lift their eyes to her. It's a kind gaze, but firm.
Homage to thee, O Solis, at thy tremendous rising!
Thou risest! Thou shinest! the heavens are rolled aside!
Thou art the Greatest of Gods, thou art the All-comprising,
From thee we come, in thee are deified.
Thy priests go forth at dawn; they wash their hearts with laughter;
Divine winds move in music across thy golden strings.
At Sunset they embrace thee, as every cloudy rafter
Flames with reflected color from thy wings.
O Thou Perfect! Thou Eternal! Thou Only One!
Great Stallion that fliest with the flying Sun!
Between the Evergreen Pines that risest, young for ever,
Thine image flashing on the bright celestial river.
Thy rays are on all faces; Thou art inscrutable.
Age after age thy life renews its eager prime.
Time whirls its dust beneath thee; thou art immutable,
Maker of Joy, thyself beyond all Time.
Thou passest through the portals that close behind the night,
Gladdening the souls of them that lay in sorrow.
The True of Word, the Quiet Heart, arise to drink thy light;
Thou art To-day and Yesterday; Thou art To-morrow!
Homage to thee, O Solis, who wakest life from slumber!
Thou risest! Thou shinest! Thou radiant face appears!
Inkheart finishes the prayer, stands for a small moment of silence, then backs behind Maxence. Her gold eyes glimmer, her heart and spirit feeling full and alive.
The sovereign grew increasingly absent as the preistess rose from the crowd, taking her place first beside him and then a pace ahead. It was then that his attention was drawn, his blue eyes climbing up her legs and over her neck until he reached the preacher's own eyes with a frown. This was a meeting, not sunday mass, and whether she was praying or not Maxence still wished for the right of personal space and to stand before these people as their sovereign. For Inkheart to declare her space in the way of his own felt like a direct challenge to the king primarily, and while he would not dare apprehend it in the midst of prayer, he would certainly remember her bold and un-calculated move.
The king easily lost concentration during praye,r his eyes wandering about the hall until they found a point to stare at upon the floor (perhaps he even looked like he stood in reverence at this stage) though in truth, Inkheart's prayers would always make him uneasy. Her blind faith and soul-surrendering worship was beyond terrifying.
When the words were over, the King felt as though he could finally breathe. Looking over the people and each individual face, his brows raised once again for a rare fourth time and he wished them on their way. The meeting was concluded. "Solis be with you brothers and sisters"
This concludes the meeting, thank thou.
@Serein @Voltaire @Eithne @Aryel @Victorina were NOT in attendance. These characters best have a good excuse for not heeding the sovereign's summons!
Oz was away on court business so is excused.
To say that much more occurred following Maxence's announcement would have been a lie, but that did not mean Rhoswen stopped watching, or listening. From beneath spiderleg lashes she observed hungrily, studying the faces of her court until they were printed like murals on her inner walls, and she knew smugly that they would never be forgotten. A woman in particular catches her darkened eye; the one they called Seraphina, now known as the emissary of Solterra. The ashen mare, adorned by a stark silver collar, seemed almost dazed by her new appointment. She moved slowly, silently, and Rhoswen did not miss a thing.
Her attention however was quickly broken by the sound of Inkheart's prayer - the caliginous mare's voice droning out into the heat. It seemed to drag, but even the flighty redhead could not deny the swelling of pride in her chest. Home. She waited only until the gruff sovereign made his own leave before turning on ankles born for ballet, casting one last glance over her shoulder at the gathering before disappearing through the towering doors, no more than a whisper on the wind.
09-14-2017, 08:28 AM
Played by
inkbone [PM] Posts: 75 — Threads: 5 Signos: 0
Silence fell over Tor as Maxence recited the laws, as Inkheart read the prayer. He was not one for worship, in any form or any dictation. Even within Stolthet, he was hard pressed to find any faith within the gods that the people often worshiped. All he knew, right here and now, was the physical bodies before and behind him.
And truth be told, sometimes even those mattered little.
He shifted uncomfortably as Inkheart's voice droned, as she fell into what he could almost describe as a rhythmical monotony. His eyes did not drop, his stance did not waver, and instead he took this time to continue to survey the faces among the crowd and those standing beside him.
When Inkheart concluded her prayer and Maxence dismissed the party, Tor left silently with nothing but a nod to those who regarded him. He had little to say, for now.
Out of all the appointing that happened, today and as of late, the only one he felt was truly deserving was perhaps Avdotya. Even he felt like a stranger in these lands; even his own appointment to Warden came as a shock, and still did. He could promise nothing, and he knew that the only way he would follow the rag-tag group that this Court had become was if there was some serious change made. As of right now, he truly had little faith in all of them as a whole.
Staff Note: Maxence / meverrnind has claimed signos for completing this thread, and 1st time threading with Kezz, Rien, and Eris.
Kezz / Rhoswen has claimed signos for completing this thread and 1st time with Neverrmind, Jekyll, Lauren, Rae, Inkbone, Jeanne and Rien.
