Autumn was in full swing and change was in the air.
The breeze that filtered through the air was crisp with the oncoming dregs of winter. Israfel had no idea how to prepare herself. It had been a very long time since she had even had to worry about the winter season, being dead and all... And even before her death, she had been graced with the Godly magic of her father to keep her warm through the cold. Now, it was just her in mortal flesh, the flaming magic of her heritage stripped from her blood and leaving her floundering in its wake. Luckily, however, she was not without shelter or protection. The Citadel of Court would keep her warm through the winter, but until then, Israfel knew that she had a duty to uphold.
As a warrior of Terrastella, she knew that she always needed to be prepared for whatever might come, no matter the season. With the sudden fluctuation in power, from Rannveig to Florentine, Israfel felt herself deeply unsettled. What would this mean? What changes were to be had? While never exchanging a word with Rannveig, it had been a constant fact that it was she that lead the Dusk Court. Now? Well. It was all new. Life was full of change, and Israfel was trying to accustom herself to the inevitable. Nothing stayed the same. That was just how life was.
So, it was that change that spurred her out here, upon the narrow, dangerous cliff sides and rocky crags of the Praistigia Cliffs. The desire to succeed and improve were the reasons that she threw herself from the ledge of the cliffs with such voracious force, gilded wings outstretched, feathers poised upwards as the mighty appendages propelled her forward and into the rich blue sky.
The sun hung overhead, bright despite the fall chill. Israfel's fiery eyes were narrowed against the rushing wind, pale ears flat against gilded tresses, allowing her body to give in to the instincts of flight, to push herself harder, chest heaving, sweaty rivulets collecting with every aerial maneuver.
It could have been minutes or hours that she spent within the air, diving in graceful arcs towards the churning sea and deadly rocks below, wings furled close against her sides in a dangerous free-fall, only for gilded feathered appendages to unfurl at the last moment, billowing and collecting air mid-fall to halt her descent. Stronger. She had to get stronger.
By the time that her hooves touched the grassy earth once again, her sides were slick with sweat, steam raising from her aching body. It felt good. She felt free. Slowly, Israfel's vermilion eyes drifted upwards to the sun, staring as long as she could as the light burned into her eyes. She missed her family so much... "Would you be proud of me?" She asked the sun, her voice winded and weak despite the power she could feel rippling through bone and muscle, "Oh, Papa... Why do you not speak to me anymore?"
Something had happened in Helovia. Whatever it might be, Israfel just might never know.
Ki'irha
Born a summer child, Ki’irha had always preferred the warmth that the season had brought. However, her love for summer was held in stark contrast against her love for her old home, as the heat Tallsun used to bring was always tampered by the year-round chill of the northern mountains. However, in recent weeks, her past had remained firmly planted where it belonged (behind her, a breathless memory, a place she would never again exist within), so now she found herself just wandering, a ghost within the new world, barely noticing the crisp beauty of the nights, nor the calm chill of the days.
The midnight woman moved carefully along the perilous cliffs. Upon her back rested a bundle, secured with charred and cracked leather straps. The mound, once a pristine white wolf pelt, was now just a mass of burnt and muddled fur, and within it were the broken remains of a lantern - twisted black metal, shards of glass, stardust in the form of dull glitter that had remained when the rest of it dissipated into the clean air - and shattered crystal containing a single sparkling flower that had already wilted away, forsaking it’s eternal living glory. She carried the burden with solemn respect, as it was all that remained of her earthly possessions, minus the feathers that were tangled within her mane, the only mementos she carried on of her family. She had hidden the items away, incase scavengers wished to claim the trash as their own, but what she called it was treasure. She had found her mind stuck within the past, and she needed to snap out of it. She had wondered if she cast these last belongings away in a ceremonious fashion, perhaps there would be a chance that she could finally begin moving forward.
The sea called to her, and perhaps that’s why she had decided that this would be a good location to place her memorial. The ocean breeze played with her mane, the salty spray from the crashing waves casting its scent upon her. It was calming, despite the energy expended facing the difficult climb, but that would make it all the more worth it. The warrior girl had nearly made it to her destination when she cast her stormy gaze over the sea, wanting to take in the view, when she realized she wasn’t fully and totally alone.
A soft sigh escaped her as the corners of her mouth turned down. She watched the pegasus mare dip and dive, cutting easily through the air, dancing upon the currents of the breeze. It was graceful and grandiose, but having never flown, the unicorn didn’t understand that it was harder than it looked. She traced the long feathers of the other woman, glanced at the sword she wore upon her brow, and wondered if Mesec had ever done this. She wondered if her prince could be found tumbling through the sky, if he still found joy high above the earth, she wondered if he was happy…
Shaking the image of him from her head, she continued forward, knowing that she was so close to her destination that it wasn’t worth turning around. Soon enough, she found flat turf beneath her hooves, and watched the golden dame land upon the grass. She had worked up quite a sweat, and Ki’irha tipped her head to the side, wondering if she looked that ethereal when she had completed her warrior’s tasks. She simply watched for a moment, listening to the woman speak, though the breeze stole most of the words away. Had she interrupted something more important than her own means?
She cleared her throat, moving forward carefully, and finally spoke. “It’s a beautiful view up here,” she began, voice even, yet kind. “I’ve never been up here before, though I can understand why so many have braved the trip. It’s breathtaking. I hope I’m not interrupting anything? The area is certainly big enough, I can continue on my way to give you your solitude, if you’d prefer.”
Though she was honest in her remarks, she hoped that the other woman wouldn’t send her away. She hadn’t seen the rest of this place, yet this outlook seemed perfect. Her pack seemed heavy suddenly, and as she shrugged her shoulders to even the load, a flap of the pack came loose, and out tumbled her hair comb. She didn’t notice the item when it fell free, though it had always been a favorite among her possessions. It had been crafted by Sohalia within the Heart Caves, when she preserved one of the native flowers, and though the crystal now had deep cracks and the flower had all but died, it still retained patches of silvery petals, and those spots still sparkled like stars. Perhaps it would still be recognizable, should the demigoddess had ever witnessed them in their glory. Ki’irha would always understand the beauty of the flower, would always remember how it was one of thousands, but would Israfel remember it? They shared similar threads upon the tapestries of the past; perhaps the dying flower would serve as a missing link.
Perhaps Ki’irha wasn’t that alone in this new world after all.
So focused upon the sight ahead of her, of the sun in the sky surrounded by skies so blue, so lost in her own sudden, morose thoughts, wallowing in thoughts of home and yearning, Israfel had been unaware of the fact that she was no longer alone. The cliffs of Terrastella seemed to attract all kinds of wanderers, be they family of the Dusk Court or natives of beyond, so the sudden arrival of another didn't truly come as too much of a surprise. The Sun Daughter's vermilion eyes tore away from the sky with the sound of a clearing throat, blinking past the bright spots left behind in her vision, and regarded the newcomer with careful scrutiny. She was hardly appropriate for such a meeting, covered in sweat and grime as she was, steam still rolling off of the contours of an ivory body to dissipate into the cool air above, the bit of mane that Diarmuid had ripped out beginning to grow in along the crest of her neck, tufts of juvenile hair sticking up at odd, unsavory angles. To put it bluntly, she was a mess, but as her eyes roamed the features of this starborn arrival, she found such concern begin to slide.
Dark as the night she stood there, against a backdrop of daytime contradictions, and Israfel marveled at what a sight they surely made upon the cliff side; dark and light, midnight and noon. The starry maiden, painted with the evening canvas of midnight hues and bright, shining dapples studded along her hide, smelled of the familiar salt-breeze that came with living within Terrastella. A member of the Dusk Court, then? She was a unique creature, tresses of white framing along her face, and the Sun Daughter caught sight of the packaged burden upon her back. A pelt? Burnt and charred, bound with worn, creaking leather. There was more, but it was difficult to make out. Instead, the shield-maiden's fiery gaze drifted once more the moonlight pools that stared back at her, and she gave a nod of her head, rose-tinted lips twisting upwards in a reserved smile.
"It is," she agreed solemnly, turning her head to allow her gaze to roam along the churning waves down below, inhaling the scent of salt along the crisp air. It was the first place that Israfel had arrived to upon reaching the land of Novus, after having awoken, weak and gasping, among the grove of aspen trees. Perhaps these cliffs would always hold a special place in her heart, reserved just for her. A place of rebirth, of second chances. Maybe that was why she came here for her solitary training.
"Ah, no. I've just finished. You're more than welcome to stay. I don't mind." Fierce vermilion focused back upon the white-haired woman, allowing that warm yet reserved smile to remain. As Ki'irha shifted, surely burdened by the pack which she carried, an elegant hair comb slipped from the confines of pelt and leather and came tumbling out, landing upon the earth with a muted sound. Israfel's eyes darted downwards, curiously examining the hair piece, and frowned thoughtfully. The demigoddess' expression furrowed, something tugging at the base of her mind. The Daughter of the Sun took a step forward, gilded hooves drawing her closer to the midnight maiden, but her gaze remained rooted upon the comb.
The shine of silver was what had drawn her closer, but she halted before getting too close. "You dropped something." The statement was uncertain, the easy-going smile long gone from rose kissed lips. "Your comb." That flower... It was familiar. Israfel thought back, to before. Before Novus, before awakening in a circle of aspen trees and falling rain, before the deep void of nothing, before flames and screams and pain, before that... Before, with her father and his shining wisdom and burning passion, with her mother's steadfast courage and gentle affection. Before, with Mesec and his shy but joyous laughter, with Hototo and his compassionate silence. Before...
"... The flower on your comb. Can I ask where you got it?" A strange question to ask when they didn't even know one another's names, but Israfel was compelled to ask, anyway. She was filled with a burning desire to know, fueled by a sudden desperation, like clammy hands grasping onto anything to prevent drowning. Her heart was racing in a way that had nothing to do with the leftover adrenaline from her exercise. It felt as though she stood on the precipice of something incredibly important, like a puzzle about to be solved, except she had been missing a piece just before completion. Perhaps this studded lady, wrapped in the colors of an endless midnight sky, held the last, and final piece of the puzzle.
