The midnight woman worked her way slowly through the citadel, accompanied only by the echoes of her solitary footsteps as the sound reverberated off of the stone walls. She had never seen such architecture before; her last two homes had been undeveloped in terms of buildings, so the foreign nature of the tower was unnatural in her eyes. There was nothing wrong with having this sort of thing here, but she was trying to take it in. No formal invitation had been extended to allow her in here. For all she knew, this area was restricted. Yet, nothing had been there to stop her in her exploration of her new home, so here she was, moving easily through the hallways, peering into different rooms, and looking upon the relics that were stored here.
Home didn’t have these. There were primitive paintings upon the prison’s walls and within the caves. They had just begun to illustrate the history of the Aurora Basin when everything had fallen apart. At home they had stories, passed between herds and outcasts alike. There were songs of praise, stories of victory, defeat, magic. Each herd had communicated with the gods at home. Each patron deity had spoken to the chosen ones. They were the elite promoted ones who provided connection between the mortals and the gods. But they didn’t have means to construct buildings or carve churches and monuments that grew from the ground like trees.
Slowly she climbed, legs taking her higher and higher within the tower. She needed to stop calling back there home. That place didn’t exist anymore. She needed to find solace knowing that this place was safe, seemingly untouched by manipulated magic and darkness. Yet, she had no purpose here. Back then, it was her job to protect. It was her duty to fight. And now? She was just some commoner, haunting the court like a ghost, remaining reclusive and distant. It had been so easy to remain hidden away in her old mountains. Here, everything was so much more open. No one had sought her out, no one had formally welcomed or even accepted her here. Was anyone allowed to just wander in? She scowled at the seeming lack of security.
Finally reaching the precipice of the tower, she found herself within a large room adorned with relics, seemingly walking through the history of, well, wherever she was. She looked at a particular piece, depicting a beautiful mare, and there was something ethereal, something careful and respectful with the way she was depicted. As she looked unknowingly upon Vespera, she finally came to rest, her nervous pacing ceasing.
She knew nothing of this place. Its history wasn’t hers, nor was this herd. How could it be, if she remained so isolated and separate?
How was she supposed to know what was worth protecting?
I have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night
How long had she been stood there? A day? A month? A year? Time bled away from her and left her as untouched as it once had. It is only the click of feet upon the marble floor that pulls the flower girl back from her timeless wonderings.
Florentine listens to the staccato beat: short and anxious, an endless pacing. All at once, close by, it slowed and stopped. A sigh escaped the Dusk girl’s lips, her eyes upon the seam where the sky met the world below. Sovereignty was a heavy crown to wear. Its dress was awkward upon Florentine’s skin and the girl already felt stifled and raw from its rubbing. Yet she craved a reprieve from her thoughts and longed for a never ending solitude.
For all the ways that this new position did not feel right upon her skin, there was one thing the twilight girl was sure of: She would never let this crown burden her like her father have been by his. Resolute, with but a final look upon the horizon, Flora turns back towards the tower.
A girl of shadow and starlight gives the young monarch pause. The stranger is stood in the darkened corner of the room, the only space where the light of the painting could not reach her. Yet even away from its light, the painting still holds her tightly. Ki-irah is as still and perfect as the mare within the picture; one caught on ethereal motion and the other held still by awe and splendor.
Immune to the whispers of the gods, Florentine had never lingered long before this picture. But now, oh now, seeing the way its grandeur brings this girl to spiritual stillness, the twilight girl begins to wonder what draw these unseen gods have over their followers.
“Do you believe?” Florentine asks from where she stands, framed by the doorway and the world it keeps at bay. Keen on an answer, she steps down from the balcony doors, petals falling from her to tumble across the floor like leaves blowing in from the trees. With each step Flora begins to recognize the midnight-blue skin, the sweep of hair like silver clouds and the horn that rises like some righteous ebony spire. “Ki’irha,”her lips speak the name softly, as if Vespera’s own eyes gazed down from the painting.
Oh to believe. Just for a moment…
“How is your leg? It must be improving if you have climbed all the way up here? Or at least I hope so, or else getting down could be quite the challenge for us.” Her smile turns impish, thoughts of gods and queens and twilight evenings drifting from her mind and she begins to wonder over the impracticalities of carrying another and flying.
@Ki'irha
This styling is also nice for some non-obtrusive OOC credits, wordcount or banter. Don't forget that divider up there.
She stood for some time within the silence and passing time’s still embrace. So consumed in the moment, she missed the sudden removal of solitude, missing fully that she had never truly been alone in the first place. It was truly a mistake, to wander into the presence of another; it could have been a trap, and she lay easy prey, ensnared within the grasp of distraction. Thankfully she stood in the presence of a kind stranger, not an enemy, but she didn’t know that much, not in the moment the words hit her ears.
’Do you believe?’
Cloven hooves clattered as she twisted, her muscles tensing, her horn becoming a wielded sword. Silver eyes set upon the form as it emerged, standing framed elegantly within the doorway, and the moment she realized who stood before her, she felt embarrassment flush beneath her star-swept pelt. She released the tension in a soft exhale, disarming herself. In a gentle graceful motion, she dropped her head, leaned back, and folded a foreleg, presenting herself to her queen in a graceful bow. “Queen Florentine, my apologies,” she began, attempting to excuse her threatening posture. Standing again to her full height, she continued. “I hate to admit I’ve been a little easy to surprise recently.”
Turning her head again, she looked back to the depicted form. “Do I believe? I’m not familiar with what the art depicts. Is this the patron deity of your, our, herd?” A frown tugged at her lips, and again she felt embarrassed. Her total lack of understanding and knowledge about this place again was threatening to get the best of her. And even beyond that, would she believe? The gods had been real where she had come from. Who would she be to question them here? “I’m new here, and ashamed to say I haven’t quite learned as much about the land yet as I had hoped. I’m currently trying to teach myself, but haven’t found much luck. Though, to answer your question, in my previous home, the gods had a heavy hand among the mortals, proving their existance. So I suppose I believe anything is possible.” Eyes then move to the woman, draped in soft honey gold and adorned with feathers. “Do you?”
She gave a halfhearted smile at the jest, absentmindedly shifting her weight and pressing the hoof of her previously injured leg hard against the flatness of the stone floor. “It’s healing well. I’m thinking it was just a bad sprain, thankfully no breaks. Though I wanted to follow the messengers to Solterra, it was probably for the best that I remained. It was hard enough racing back here, I don’t think I would have made it to our boundaries, let alone back to the desert.” That much was true- she had felt trapped for the days following her announcement, but knew it was better to remain grounded for a short time, rather than force herself lame. “It’s impeded some of my daily runs; I’ve had to slow my pace and be more cautious on it, but all is well.”
Was all well? Her body had healed, but more weighed upon her beyond physical injury. The harsher truth remained buried in her cheek, how she hadn’t found her place, was beginning to think that she never would. But that wasn’t the new sovereign’s burden to bear. She had enough to worry about. She had a kingdom to rule. Why should Ki’irha bother her with the frivolous problems of a commoner? “Hopefully they took our messengers with open arms, and are recovering well from their loss. That was quite the way to ring in your coronation. It was handled with grace.” The complement was honest and well deserved, but when it left the star girl’s lips she hoped it wouldn’t appear as though she were sucking up.
Letting out a gentle sigh, she smiled, but still, somehow she appeared tired. “It is nice to meet you officially. This room, this building, it’s like nothing I’ve ever seen before. I apologize if I’ve stumbled upon your quarters and just let myself in.” With that she fell silent again, stormy gaze watching the petals dance across the stone floor, and for a moment, wished it was that easy to float away, carried only by the softest blow of the wind.
- when a shooting star streaks through the blackness, turning night into day, make a wish and think of me -
FLORENTINE REICHENBACH'S BAE The horn slices through the air; it’s sound a sharper song than the clatter of startled feet upon the marble floor. Warily Florentine takes a step back. Her eyes, dark in the shelter of the room, follow the arc of the horn, a lethal warning to approaching adversaries. “I am sorry to startle you.”The words are wary, even more so than her eyes that watch the tension ease at last from her courtier’s muscles. But the seriousness of the moment is lost when Ki-irha sinks into a bow, her slender limbs bent in reverence to Florentine. The bow is met with a nervous giggle and the flush of too hot blood into her cheeks. “Oh, no, no, up you get. There is absolutely no need.”Her wings beckon the girl up awkwardly, “Especially not when you already have an injured leg to accommodate.” Folding her wings tightly to her side, the flower girl is relieved when Ki-irha at last draws their attention back to the painting. ”Yes, I believe it is supposed to be Vespera.” In contemplation her eyes wander over the graceful curves, the bruised shadows of dusk light framing the sleek golden mare. It not only commands the picture, but also succumbs to the brilliance of the mare. It was a battle, Florentine thinks; a dance of power between dusk and its goddess. “I-“She begins carefully, her eyes never leaving the painting, “- do not…” A sigh, as soft as petals escapes her, “That is not true… I just cannot bring myself to worship them. But as queen I am trying to…” There is no hope to these words; no taste of impending conversion. She is a girl made up of too many worlds to ever kneel down and worship one god.
”I am glad you are healing well and I am grateful for your message. Do you enjoy visiting the other courts Ki’irha?” Her eyes drift out through the open windows and the lands that stretch out below them. Were her brethren being well received in Solterra? ”I hope you are right and they are being received well. Maybe when you have rested enough, if you should like, you can go and report on their progress for me?”
Florentine smiles, considering the room with its ornately sculptured walls and painted frescos, “Oh no. I could never sleep somewhere as lavish as this. I am quite too messy for that. I was born in a thicket and would quite happily sleep a night out in the open again. My room is quite plain, I just enjoy hiding here occasionally.”
The girl’s smile is an impish thing as her eyes, glittering with mirth, settle upon Ki-irha once more. @Ki-irha <3
