The summer sun was high in the noonday sky, blazing hot and bright as he stepped through the sand. With each step, Voltaire sank deeper into the warm and golden grains, and the sand forced its way through his fur, itching with every step. His blue black coat glittered in the sunlight, bringing a shine along his back and through his ombre hued mane and tail. And on his head, the burdensome crystal horn seemed to weigh a thousand pounds. In the heat of the summer, the weight seemed more onerous than usual. But as heavy as his heart was, his mind was busy enough to keep him from dwelling on it.
His dark lashes pushed away the sand as it blew and stung against his coat, and the dryness in the air caused his skin to feel tight against his muscular frame. He was uncomfortable, but this continued to be a part of his penance. It was a punishment he had to bear, to atone for his sins.
He blinked against the golden sunlight, willing away the heat as he pressed onward into Solterra, deeper into this new and mysterious land. The stallion did not know what secrets it held, but knew it was somewhere new. A place where he would find a fresh start. In the past several years, the blue stag seemed to always be on the run – always abandoning his past in favor of someplace new. It was as if he could never outrun the past that haunted him – as if he could never compensate for the betrayal. But still, Voltaire had to try and find his peace once more.
Ahead, he saw the Day Court rise from the wasteland, a single beacon of hope in an otherwise harsh world. Its sandstone walls were tall and ominous, but inside, he knew there would be shelter from the elements. Despite his constant self-flagellation, Voltaire continued toward it, stepping through the narrow arches and into the courtyard of this kingdom. Here, the dust on the cobbled floor seemed to blow away, the halls well kept by the sages of Solis. Stopping only once he was deep within the temple, the blue stallion whinnied to whoever would come to find him, the sound rebounding from stone walls to call them here.
Let them come. The strangers and the demons. It would be a welcome distraction from the nightmares of his past.
Dusted with star matter and borne upon tides of nature, hers is the beauty of wild places.
The Day had grown too hot for even the devout crusader to labor beneath Solis' golden eye. Out in the courtyard where the dilapidated smithy and outbuildings stood collecting sand and dust, the air shimmered with the heat of their god's embrace. Up, beyond the sandstone walls of the Sunhall and the endless wastes of sanded dunes rose the cloudless dome of sky, the color paling as it kissed the horizon and deepening as it climbed toward the apex. Breathing deeply and letting those amber eyes slide closed, the paladin found herself rejoicing for the heat and the slow, languid sort of exhaustion that it carried upon it's back - for while the young warrior was loath to refrain from working to better her court, she knew when her body needed rest.
Taking another breath, eyes still closed, the lass focused on the scents that swirled about her as she stood before the wide windows of one of the temple's side alcoves; sun baked tiles and sand, mojave aster and yucca blossoms, sweat and water, blood... Yes, always an undercurrent of blood. It had never been an unfamiliar smell to Eden, but it had taken some time to get used to the constant tang of it in the air, as if she were living upon a permanent battlefield. With a slow exhale, the lass shifted her weight to her right, her twin trios of bangles clinking softly with the slight movement. Of course, the maiden did not mind the scent of blood or the sensation of toiling beneath the promise of another battle, and she thrived instead of struggled beneath the brutality of her chosen path.
But she couldn't help but wonder what sort of storm lurked on the horizon, preparing to take from Solis what they could not provide themselves. The mare had heard cruel stories of the Dusk and Night Courts, that their citizens conducted lurid and grotesque experiments on citizens from other courts, that they were bloodthirsty and bred with their kin. Eden suppressed a shiver at the possibility of such corruption and sent a silent prayer to Solis for guidance - Let them follow the light or let me lead them to it, through blood or death.
A shrill whinny interrupted the remainder of the lass' one-sided conversation with her God and caused those golden eyes to open. Turning and peering around a towering pillar, Eden found that a blue stained stallion had entered the keep and was bellowing his summons. The scent of sand and heat and toil rested about his shoulders and as the minutes passed and no one approached, the lass took it upon herself to serve as the welcoming party for the unicorn. Stepping around the pillar and into full view, Eden gave a low whicker to notify the stranger of her presence, her wildflower adorned head held high. Approaching and slowing to a stop directly before the azure unicorn, the paladin had a fleeting thought (He looks like the sky) before letting words drop from darkened lips, "Welcome to the Seat of the Sun, stranger. My name is Eden, what brings you to Solis' doorstep?"
Voltaire knew it wouldn’t be long before they found him – for societies seldom took kindly to strangers on their doorstep unannounced – but he didn’t care what came next. Ambivalence had become a constant in his life, and the demin hued unicorn could do little to avoid what punishment they might put upon him. He didn’t wonder, even for a moment, whether he would be welcome or shunned in this place – he merely accepted that their reaction would be what it would be. As he waits in the silence of the great hall, his tired eyes taken in the reds and golds of the sun, curiosity creeping through his bitterness even as he heard a distant sound of jingling gold.
It didn’t take long for the source of the sound to appear, and his eyes feasted on her form as she approached. Unique. It was the word that stuck with him as he scanned her form of stripes and gold, caught for a moment as he appreciated the depth of her uniqueness. Black ringlets seemed to pour from her crown of wildflowers, sun glinted from the ring in her nose, and the bangles at her feet seemed to chime a sing-song rhythm with every step. Involuntarily, he finds himself bowing his head to this creature, the crystal horn tracing her approaching form with the movement – and he lets his horn hover at the level of her heart for only a moment, before straightening once more.
Shrewd eyes find hers, and the blue stag chews thoughtfully on his lip for a moment. She speaks of the sun, only validating his original thoughts about this place, and of a god he’d yet to meet. More troublesome though, is her question about his motives. Why had he come? For escape. For penance. For a fresh start. Instead of offering her these reasons, he lies. ”I had a mind to simply wander through, but the mirage of this temple called me from the wilderness. Tell me more of this place, of Solis. I wish to know.” And while he didn’t care, necessarily, where he ended up – Voltaire decided this place would be good as any for his new life.
So he would stay, and his penance would begin.
ooc: sorry for the delay, it’s been a hectic couple of weeks but I’ll try to get back into the swing of things :D
Dusted with star matter and borne upon tides of nature, hers is the beauty of wild places.
She hadn't expected the stranger to bow.
It seemed an archaic thing here in this realm of sun and sand, of warriors and soldiers, of endless days of wrenching an existence from beneath the unforgiving sun. Yet here she was, a gold draped paladin, and here he was, a blue dressed stallion with his horn poised to plunge into her heart - but it was a polite threat, if any threat existed, and that was something she could accept. Lips curving upward ever so slightly, Eden listened carefully to the cool melody of his reply, his voice oddly reminiscent of the oasis' calming waters. She couldn't, however, miss the sharpness of his gaze, the intelligence that flickered behind those eyes.
There had been rumors of a spy in their midst, of the damnable Night Court and their heathens sending fledglings called Crows to infiltrate Solis' ranks. Was this sky kissed stag one of them? Pursing her lips for a moment, Eden considered his reply, worrying over his tone, over what could be a lie, what could be truth. At last, though, the paladin cast away her worries and her doubts; she was a warrior, not an inquisitor and if this newcomer was a false follower, then Solis willing, he would be weeded out. Grin returning to her features in full force, the shield maiden nodded her assent to the stranger and began a short narrative of her patron deity.
"Solterra was established as the realm of the Day Court and seat of Solis, the patron god of Daylight after the father of the gods, Tempus, created Novus. We are a desert realm, as you may have noticed, and share borders with the courts of Dawn and Night, though Night Court..." She trailed off for a moment, her ringed nose wrinkling, "We don't have a wonderful relationship with the denizens of Denocte. No one does." With a shrug and a shake of her ropey tail, Eden forged on, "We are made notable by our warriors, but I like to think that our healers and clergy are our strongest assets here - to be able to eke a life and a faithful light out of this land requires more strength than tossing hooves and teeth at an opponent, in my opinion."
@Voltaire I know how you feel! Sorry for the wait doll
Her story draws him in, and as he listens to her tell of Solis and the neighboring courts, Voltaire chews on his lip thoughtfully. Perhaps if he were a younger man with a brighter future, he may have chosen a place less harsh than this. The healer had always grown up in a warrior herd, expected to do his duty for the betterment of the whole, and to think less about his own desires. He’d been schooled in the art of fighting, as all the young had done… and found it more than a bit ironic that now, he found himself in the realm of the warriors once more – a place that he so clearly did not belong.
Still too, the sky-kissed stallion knew that in the rough and tumble world of war, there was a call and a need for healing. His studies before had been cut short, after he’d slain the king and been exiled from the only home he’d ever known… but after being cut down as a fighter, he’d been relegated to the role of healer, and it had stuck with him as the only skill he’d been destined for in life. While Voltaire had been little more than a passable soldier, he’d made more than a fair healer.
His gaze tilts toward the sun, and if he closed his eyes for a moment, the stag could almost picture the gods as they created this world – each taking a piece and molding it toward their liking. Solis would be a warrior, strong at heart and braver than all the rest. He would be unlikely to shy away from the harshness of Solterra, and as Voltaire reasoned through the personality he expected of such a deity, it began to make more and more sense that the Day god would choose this severe environment for his followers. Like the place where he was born, Voltaire instinctively knew that only the strong would survive here – the strong willed, the strong at heart.
”And you?” He asks after a moment, wondering what role Eden had to play in the hierarchy of this world. ”Are you a fighter, a teacher, or a healer here?” It wasn’t like Voltaire to hold a conversation for so long, but he found himself interested in the exotic creature, and wanting to know more about the first that he’d met in this new world.
