it's dark, there's no need for lights
when the fire in his eyes burns so bright
Darkness rippled around them as they swept through the halls of the Keep, shadows clinging like living things to their King as he passed, while Isorath remained pure and gleaming — the moon among a sea of darkness. Reichenbach strode through the halls confidently, a constant smile playing at his lips as his argent gaze swept every detail. There was a tenseness to him that came from a need to be outside, to be free of the stone walls and the finery — he could never truly rule from a Castle, for the night settled about him like a cloak, a breath of clean air after too long inside.
Finally, he took the time to look at Isorath, that same roguish grin making his eyes dance. The sage glimmered in the moonlight, his loose hair billowing silkily in the gentle fall breeze — strangely undressed, without his finery. Reichenbach preferred Isorath that way, and enjoyed following the curve of his elegant neck to the fine bones of his regal face. Dragon born indeed. Calligo crowned the Kirin in star-fire and Reich cocked his great head slightly, feeling the slide of his ebony curls against his neck. Calligo was truly accepting of all, whether they be Dusk, Dawn or even Day.
The Night King turned his attention forward once more, dancing a few steps forward to reveal the streets alight with energy and movement, scent and sound. Woodsmoke and jasmine lingered on the wind, swallowed by the smell of cooking food, teas, perfumes, candles... what the world had to offer, Denocte gladly offered too. Some curious eyes were already turning their way, gleaming in the firelight as they beheld their King with the flawless Dusk Kirin. Where shadow turned Reich near invisible, the moonlight seemed to cling to Isorath's skin desperately, turning him into a beacon of beauty and light.
"So... what would you like to see first?"
He asked, his baritone voice alight with a subtle sense of pride. He'd grown up in these markets, his sticky hands making him a menace to the stall-holders as he swept past in a mess of shadows, stars and bruises. He grinned, memories lingering in the corners of his long lashed eyes as he settled his quartz eyes upon the vision beside him.
Porcelain hooves clicked against the stone floor in a melodic tune, as the kirin ghosted after the Night King. Long legs carried him elegantly, fine boned and beautiful in the low light which often bathed the Court in it's warmth, gilded scales glittering as the light caressed over his frame. Isorath had alway been at home in the confines of stone walls and high ceilings, draped head to toe in finery and crowns, a prince in every essence of the word. He could linger in tapestry lined hallways and throne rooms and feel at peace, just as he could in the middle of a raging storm.
Yet, as he watched the tenseness coiled in Reichenbach's smouldering frame, he couldn't say the same. No, a stallion such as him was made for the wilds. A King who wrapped himself in smoke and shadows, who ran and the wind howled for his command. He reminded him of the Dhossran of the Expanse, who ruled in open tents beneath the light of the stars, loud and free.
Confined to marble walls and gilded throne rooms would chain everything that made them fierce. Handsome. Wild.
White lashes flicked once under the King's gaze, observing Reichenbach from beneath their snowy canopy. Without his finery wrapped around him, Isorath felt exposed for once, laid bare to scrutiny, rather than the praise he often received. Hair left to the wants and whims of the breeze, trailing behind him in a train of spun starlight and wrapped in soft curls around his scale kissed neck. Reichenbach looked as he always did, all-consuming, powerful. Ruggedly handsome and all the confidance befitting a King, the gilded coins that curled around his coal frame only accentuating the darkness he wore so well.
After a moment, he exhaled a soft breath, head tilting away to hide the smile which ghosted on his lips, silken locks sliding forward to momentarily shield him.
The coyness lasted for but a moment, his eyes are drawn like a moth to the flame as the Night Market is revealed to him. His own hooves carried him forward without his consent, eyes alight with the liveliness in front of him. In passing he had glimpsed but snippets, and they could not hold a candle now. Momentary self-consciousness at his lack of adornments vanished as the curling tea smoke and incense smoke did into the crisp air. Isorath stood beside the Night King, Calligo's starlight and ink tapestry made flesh and blood, oblivious to the eyes that turned their way.
There's a spark in his chest and a nostalgic hum in his bones, which grew with each inhale laced with perfume and baked sweets.
so...what would you like to see first.
Amethysts turned their gaze to Reichenbach as his rich baritone found his ears, a thoughtful hum escaped his pale maw as he considered everything. "Perhaps the foods first? or the tea?" He suggested. "Or the jewelry?" He added as an afterthought and followed by a soft laugh. Indecision was often the bane of him, especially when he was faced with so much and a thirst to see it all. Just as the thoughtfulness came, it went with a fan of long lashes and a mischievous glint reflected in his bejeweled gaze as he regarded the King.
"How about a game as we look? to keep things interesting." Isorath offered with a tilt of his head, taking a step forward further into the market. "A question game, one question at a time and you have to answer. I'll even let you go first, to set the pace."
it's dark, there's no need for lights
when the fire in his eyes burns so bright
He liked watching the subtle emotions flicker across Isorath's delicate face, watching each slide of light off of the golden scales adorning his fine boned face. He was a delicacy, a dragon borne to the shores of men — now here, in the shadowy streets of Denocte. The bonfire and torchlight turned his starlit hair somewhat golden, shining and flickering along the silky strands as they caught in a slight night-scented breeze and billowed outward. Reichenbach flared his ebony nostrils at the breeze, tasting the subtle scent intimately and tucking it away to mull over later — alone, in his chambers under the sky.
The Night King shifted his silver gaze to match the long lashed amethyst eyes that glittered at him, his grin sparking with a boundless energy;
"Perhaps the foods first? Or the tea? Or the jewelry?"
Reichenbach treasured the soft laugh that floated from the Sages sensual lips, found himself buoyed by it, as if he were a teenager showing off to his first girl. He laughed too, more of a chuckle than his usual booming laugh, rough and low. Bodies had yet to mill around them, and The Night King found himself hesitating against the thought of sharing Isorath with the crowd, though he was spared the struggle at the gleam of porcelain skin stepping past him.
"A game?"
He repeated, smiling as his eyes trailed the path of his elegant companion toward the crowd before forcing his own muscles to respond, rolling underneath his mahogany skin as he followed at an easy pace behind the Kirin. Vendors continued to glance curiously at them, some eyes keener than others. Reichenbach flashed them a deadly smile and the eyes averted, turning to look at their work or wares, some pretending they hadn't been looking at all.
There were so many questions lingering upon his velvet lips, so many things he wanted to know about the Kirin — about his past, his present... his future.
"Alright then..."
He began, argent eyes lingering upon the wares at a nearby stall — silver and gemstones from the walls of Pentheselian, a vast underground city walled by precious rocks and metals. The silver had been crafted with expert hands, delicate but strong. Reichenbach eyed a particularly stunning chain, linked so closely and finely that it appeared molten under the moonlight before asking:
"Why did you leave Vectaeryn?"
His voice hummed through the night air, somewhat gentler than usual, and quiet — so that none could hear the question but he and Isorath, the ex-Emperor of a savage and far away continent. His gaze flicked once again to the silver upon the table, delicately threading a dainty moon charm onto the sterling chain he had been eyeing. He lifted the now adorned chain with the slight telekinesis they all owned, pressing close to Isorath as he made to hang the beautiful chain upon his crown of antlers;
"May I ... ?"
@Isorath <3 your replies are never late compared to my poor attempts haha
It was refreshing, though Isorath would of preferred to come up with a more befitting description. For how could one describe the feeling of ice thawing within their breast, to make way for those fragile strands of tenderness that lay within the frozen prison as refreshing? Lured by Reichenbach's presence, cautious nerves soothed by the threads of trust the other had woven. A sun in his own right, his fires made to warm rather than burn.
Isorath had kept many of his softer emotions under lock and key, jealously guarded for fear of having them torn from him completely. Lulled by jasmine and woods moke, gently coaxed by the rich depth of the voice that spoke to him.
Just once seemed the mantra of the night. The King of Smoke and Shadows would not shatter such a fragile thread, one would not so carelessly invoke the wrath of a broken man made of sun and dragonfire.
A delicate ear tipped forward, intrigued by the difference. The Sage had heard Reichenbach's laughter many times, within the halls of the Court and on the breeze, an echo in the night. It was thunder, the crack of wood in the fire, the roll of the tumultuous waves in a storm. This was not so much like the boom he had come to know. Curiosity threaded itself onto his features as he committed the sound to memory, ringing in his ears like the echoes he heard from his chambers and the library. Briefly he wondered if he might get a chance to hear it again.
"A game." Isorath sang back silkily, neck curved in an elegant arch so he might gaze at his guide. He is not immune the eyes which are drawn to him, an all too familiar prickling of his skin sings it to him sweetly, and the scales upon his iridescent hide shift and preen beneath the attention. Yet, his eyes remained on Reichenbach, a deliberate and silent declaration that it is he who has the Kirin's attention this night. In the low light he glows, coal with embers within it's chest, the shadows dancing off of the stone walls and silken hangings dance as he passes. Gripping to him effortlessly only to let him go reluctantly, like a lover forced to say goodbye. How could they even think they could draw his gaze?
If Isorath saw the deadly smile, razor sharp upon dark lips, his face did not betray it.
Lilac's are soon drawn to where molten silver lingered, if only briefly, before they were drawn back to the strong and rugged lines of the monarch's face as his question finally escaped into the night air.
Why did you leave Vectaeryn.
Isorath paused beside his companion, drawn closer to the body heat rolling off of the stallion's frame. His eyes did not leave Reichenbach, not for a moment as they ran over chiselled lines and strong brow. Quietly mulling over his answer. "Because I was curious, young and foolish." He exhaled softly with an even softer laugh, his warring mind giving out as the words flowed carefully between them. "Not many of us choose to leave our homeland, too many risks. Slavers, Kings and Nobles with harems to fill and Dark Practitioners that would use us in their rituals. There have been many Taeryn over the ages who have disappeared traveling outside our home. But for Royals, we are forbidden." The Prince paused, sparing a small glance away before it returned. "I would spend days of my youth listening to merchants, travelers and sailors tell tales of the land outside of Vectaeryn. Naturally, I became infatuated with a life I could not have, could not experience. I was hot headed, stubborn and had all these grand ideas that if I could leave, I could do something great. I was a Prince of Vectaeryn, after all, what harm could the world do me?" He cannot hide the bitterness that slowly began to thread into his words, porcelain hooves shifted against the stone before he willed himself to continue.
"But by law, I was forbidden to leave. I could of tried to board a ship, but I would of been dragged back to the Palace by my tail. So I waited, there's an event in our capital every five years, called the Crucible. The one who wins it can request a boon from the King, and they will grant it. My brother and sister tried to tell me not to do it, my mother forbid it. But I entered anyway, and I won. I demanded the right to leave, and I did." That was that, at least for the start of his life away from the safety and comfort of everything he had known. So focused he'd been on answering the question he had almost forgotten about the silver chain until Reichenbach moved toward him, pastel gaze drawn to the charm adorned jewelry silently awaiting permission.
Part of him is glad that no one can see the flush that heated up beneath his skin. His surprise is harder to mask, written clearly in the by the flare of his lashes, and the way his serpentine tail coiled around a leg. "Of course." Isorath retorted softly, once he'd managed to catch himself, lowering his head enough to allow the precious piece to find a home within his tines. Isorath was no stranger to gifts, but this one, the simple beauty of it — the one who gifted it to him — set it apart from the decadent jewels of his other collection. "How does it look?" The sage asked after a moment, head tilted just a fraction to the side to peer up at the King.
Realizing it was also his turn to ask a question, he settled for one that was near similar to the one asked of him. "What was growing up like for you here?"
TAG: @Reichenbach — nooo your replies are lovely and never late <3
it's dark, there's no need for lights
when the fire in his eyes burns so bright
He spoke then, the most words Reichenbach had heard uttered from those devilishly perfect lips. The Night King savoured them, each softly uttered syllable, each gentle, self-deprecating laugh. This was a story not told to strangers, an intimate look into the history of one of Novus' most well known sages, a glimpse of the joy, glory, heartbreak and ruin that had brought him to their shores. Reichenbach said nothing, only listened, his great head slightly lowered as he set his silver eyes upon Isorath's lavender gaze, coiling the words in like rope. His black lip curled slightly at the word forbidden, anger flashing momentarily through his hot blooded frame at the thought of being chained as Isorath had been. Not by rope or chain, but by law and politics.
There was no mistaking the curdled bitterness hugging Isorath's words, an old wound, painful and not yet forgotten — like so many that scarred the King Crow's dark flesh. He lifted his head a fraction at the words brother, sister, mother, images of porcelain scales and decadent crowns flitting through his mind, how wonderful it would be to have been born alongside a soul like that. Reichenbach pondered on the Crucible for a moment longer than necessary — had Isorath battled with his body or his mind, or both? What obstacles he must have overcome, how outstanding his skills must be, if he'd come out successful against so many.
The surprise that flashed over Isorath's fine boned features at his offering sent a flush through his shadowy frame, as if he had perhaps stepped over some boundary that lay between them. Carefully, he twined the chain around a tine, allowing the little moon to dangle in the cool night air. He glanced from the chain to Isorath as the Prince spoke, grinning as he said simply;
"Stunning."
A breath passed before he murmured softly;
"Now no matter where you go, you will take a piece of Calligo and her night sky with you"
He continued walking, slate eyes sliding from merchant to merchant as he eyed their wares, keeping a skilled eye out for any Crows that might have thought Isorath an easy target. They'd have been wrong, judging on what the Kirin had said about The Crucible.
"What was growing up like for you here?"
Reichenbach turned to Isorath as they walked, smiling an easy smile.
"Difficult... for a time. When I arrived I had no family, nobody to rely on but myself — and I have not always been so charming"
He laughed, that same thunderous, musical laugh that was so often heard through Denocte. A distraction so as not to linger on the cold and the starvation that had come hand in hand with his orphan status.
"I soon realised I was not the only one living on our streets... and that perhaps we could all be more successful working as a team rather than fighting one another for scraps. I created my family, designed them from all the pieces others had been cruel enough to dismiss..."
He paused, murmuring;
"They're everything to me..."
His argent eyes flickered, darkening for a moment as he withheld the words that seemed too crass and savage to use on such a dream-ridden night: I'd kill anyone that lays a finger on them, gut them without a second thoughtif they give my Crows pain.
Then he was back to normal, eyes as bright as starfire, humour creasing the corners of his ebony lips as if nothing had happened.
"Lucky for me, Denoctes merchants can be kind — I was taken in by a good man and his son even as my new family grew, and soon after began training in the Army... though some habits seem to have stuck... and some scars"
Another grin, and a single cocked brow. It was a well known fact that the King of Shadows was also known by several other titles, King of Thieves being one of them, King Crow another. He grinned, flicking his gold ringed ear;
"A gift from some of our less... cultured folk — two slits in the ear for stealing, though they'd have taken more if they'd had the chance."
Reich twitched the ear again, feeling the weight of the gold rings he now wore in the old wounds — his way of pissing off the vagabonds that had cut him and expected contrition. They walked steadily through the markets, the sound and scents overwhelming and beautiful, all open underneath Calligo's vast sky. Reichenbach snuck a glance at the porcelain Kirin beside him, stealing a moment of peace as he watched Isorath take it all in. He turned his handsome head, listening to the quiet music of his mothers coins in his ear as he asked;
There is no denying the nostalgic pang in his chest, beneath the wounds that had marked the story so intimately, for the halls of his homeland. Despite his insatiable appetite for lands and adventures beyond that which was his own, and the sour tang of consequences on his tongue, he had loved the marbled halls of his youth. His life had been filled with memories that burned as warmly as the sun in summer, undeterred by sea breeze and clouded skies, rather than the bitter chill of sorrow. The roaring laughter of his brother, and the sigh of mock exasperation his sister often followed him with. Aesthia's silent yet powerful presence, the unmovable mountain with fierce love in her gaze.
Yet, it had been inevitable, a tapestry woven by time and many hands, that one would grow restless. Bound by chains that bore no physical weight, that did not scar his body as he chafed and rubbed himself raw within their hold. Isorath didn't miss the subtle curl of Reichenbach's lip at his words. "It was not so bad." He offered, an attempt to gently pry the furrow which marred the Sovereign's face. Perhaps the God's had seen it a kind blessing, to have scrubbed his body clean of the scars he had once worn, when he had appeared before them broken and smouldering, his essence crying out into the cosmos to let him begin again. They had washed over him, wiping away the physical marks of a life that would of made him a husk, so that he could look in the mirror and not see the story so deeply written.
Silver glittered brightly against the porcelain of his tines, Isorath's gaze lingered upon it's delicate countenance from beneath starlit hair and snow lashes. Perhaps a line had been crossed, though the myriad of emotions those rose and fell in a squall of moondust and embers would not let him settle on just one. Instead, the demanded him focus on the stallion in front of him, and the gift that shimmered proudly upon his frame.
Stunning.
He can feel the heat beneath his skin spike.
Now no matter where you go, you will take a piece of Calligo and her night sky with you.
And the thorns in his chest constrict around his ribs and his lungs, dressed in gold coins.
"And a reminder that Calligo's realm is a second home, one I'm loathed to ever leave." The sage sighed, a weight settling in his stomach. Leaving seemed impossible, even if it was his duty, there is an end already written in this story. He had promised to go from Court to Court, a wandering star in the night. He hadn't thought of the complexities of emotions, or how each Court might effect him. Calligo and her children had enraptured him, welcomed him — their King cloaked in crow feathers and coins.
Silence radiated comfortably from the Kirin as he listened to Reichenbach, both ears pressed forward as if they would miss the words if they were not. It is his turn to wear the bitter curve on his lips, pulled downward at the idea that once upon a time the stallion beside him had no one. Not the family of crows nor the love of his court. Alone. Skittering along the cobbled pathways and sheltered from the rain in archways.
"I find that hard to believe, I imagine you were so very charming, even as a colt, charming enough to enchant the gold out of noble ears." Isorath quipped with his own musical note of amusement, there one moment and gone the next in time for the next chapter of the story. He's not surprised, after all, it was fitting of Calligo's children to care for one another — her royal chosen more so. "So you not only did you make something for yourself, but others too. A Crow with a heart of gold." If he noticed the darkened aura of the other, it didn't show.
He could see the army training on him, a life on the streets would not have sculpted the Night King in such a way now. No, Warriors were forged in harder stuff, fire and the cold bite of steel. It was sweat and tasting the dirt beneath your hooves, it was choosing to get back up and reignite. Isorath wanted to ask what happened to the merchant and his son, but he hesitated. Were they still around? Or was it just the King and his court of Crows, the warmth of the kind family a distant but fond memory.
Pulled from his spiraling thoughts by the roguish grin and risen brow, as lilac pools flicked from the handsome features to glance over his frame at the mention of scars, over sculpted neck and muscular shoulders before they settled on the flicked ear with a mixture of curiosity and amusement.
Two slits in the ear for stealing, though they'd have taken more if they'd had a chance.
"The King of Thieves caught, I imagine they found themselves quite smug. A good story for the taverns, I imagine." Isorath hummed with a wry grin, head tilted as he eyed the gilded rings for a moment longer, fighting the urge to reach out with his telekenesis and touch them. "It would of been a shame if they had managed to take more, I'm sure many others agree." His mischievous look flashed across his features, wicked and sharp across his scaled visage.
One day, he decided to himself, he would invite Reichenbach to Vectaeryn. Let him marvel in their markets and blend in the shadows beneath their aurora painted sky, watch the handsome lines of his face react to the dragons which danced over the waves. Pearl hooves clicked along in a harmonious song to the strides of the powerful man beside him, eyes dancing to and from stalls and their wears, beguiled by the sweet scent of perfume and the soft looking fabrics on their rolls. He was looking, but not for tea and incense.
Your family...what were their names?
"I have a lot of family, answering that question may take awhile." Isorath mused, the corner of his lips twitched upward. "My elder brother is named Thalsian, after our Great-Great-Grandfather, who burned half of Lohiran when their King kidnapped his daughter. Then there is my younger sister Sabine, she's quite the potions and poisons master and my mother King Aesthia...and then you have all my cousins." The last part is uttered with a pleasant but exasperated laugh. "There is Vaella, Cetaphina, Sethius, Solvarin, Danarius, Tessaria and Valhail. Our home was never quiet, not between all of us and the dragons. We would dive off the towers to pass the time, and sneak away into the city rather than take our lessons. Our carers spent most of their times looking for us than anything else." His eyes glittered as he listed them, a hundred memories coming and going with each name tenderly spoken. "I miss them."
At last, he spied the stall he had glimpsed in passing as he'd hurried back to the comfort of the Court's high walls and roaring fires. Familiarity poured out of each of the wares, and pointedly he ignored the gaze of the merchant who stared at the Kirin in a mixture of awe and something else he'd rather not linger on, but his discomfort raised the glimmering scales on his back, made his skin itch rather than flush. Eventually he spied what he was looking for, teke grasping at the delicate earring to turn it in his delicate hold. Shaped in the motif of a dragon, with bright silver eyes. "Your coins...where did you get them? I have never not seen them upon you."
TAG: @Reichenbach — now it's my turn to definitely be late on a reply. IM SO SORRY <3
