The archway didn't want to budge really, the rubble picked away pebble by pebble. No longer were they interested in the statue that had moved and called them for the meeting in the first place. They were instead focused as a whole on moving the debris to get out of the meeting. Strange, how they simply turned their backs on the deities, but then again, most of the deities seemed to have turned their backs on their people. They would no longer follow blindly in the footsteps of ancients that left behind destruction and the wake of many confused faces.
Gods were not flawless, after all.
Heaving his shoulders as well as his mind, he worked on chipping away things, the clatter of hooves and breaths of each other snorting a rhythm to fall in to. Sovereigns and high ranking individuals they all were, but they were mortal and not untouchable. They were not special, even with titles.
Heat sweltered over his body, rolling sweat off his body and flanks, darkening grullo hues. It wasn't until he heard a strange noise that he stopped, a single hoof pausing in the air and his horned head turning. He watched as the trees that had been so titanic, were suddenly reverting in to small saplings. It was a rapid process, and he blinked once or twice, before glancing at the statue. It was blinking as well, bright eyed, before the lights were snuffed out and gone.
He blew out a breath, stepping away from where they had been working so diligently, shaking himself off as he did. "So it seems. At least we are all free." It was all he said on the matter, more grim looking than anything as he stepped between the saplings, careful with his bulk.
His mind was now on Delumine, and to converse with the rest of the regime once home, as well as the council more than likely. The three of them were equal but more opinions would likely come in handy.
@everyone tbh || this is his last post <3
06-27-2018, 08:21 PM
Played by
Rae [PM] Posts: 301 — Threads: 41 Signos: 15
They heave against the rubble with body and mind, the scent of their emotions (fear and anger, mostly) first mingling with the smell of sweat, then overcome by it as the regimes toil away.
The futility of the situation is not lost on him. Even magic does not seem to help them. Po's request goes apparently unnoticed by the dense wall of trees, and Florentine's window only bakes the rocks. An odd hush falls over the prison, broken only by the huff of strained breathing and the sound of rocks tumbling over each other. As they labor, Eik tries not to think about who will die first, and other dire things of that nature-- but morbidity still slips into his thoughtstream here and there.
In the end, of course, it is all for naught.
The gods, or at least one of them, open the way for them without much ceremony other than the glowing of some stones. Sweat-soaked and weary of another trick, he doesn't much feel like celebrating. He returns Seraphina's stare, and in that way they communicate without words. Before he follows her, he turns to the other regimes and offers a small, weary smile. Perhaps one day they'll all get together and laugh about the events that unfolded at the summit. Perhaps.
Eik follows Seraphina through the thicket and back to their people. He merely nods his head to the statue as they leave. It is a gesture of acknowledgement, if not gratitude.
He hopes this is his last encounter with the gods of Novus, but he fears it is just the beginning.
Together they are nothing but a handful of horses, covered gray in sweat and grime. Asterion lets every other thought, every other worry, fall out of his head as he toils against the tumbled stone.
Even though it does not seem to budge, it is less sharp than the edges of his thoughts in this place. He does not want to think of the gods and what their arguing, or Tempus’s actions and lack of explanations, might mean. He does not want to think of how flippant, almost cruel, the Denocte regime is in this holy, awful place.
It is good, then, to put his shoulder to the rubble and push. To work in the unnatural glow of the Solterran Regent’s magic, to feel his coat lather with sweat and grow gritty with dirt. To stand beside Eik and Flora and hear the rhythm of their breathing along with his own. To smile at Cyrene’s quip about the goose, and privately agree.
And yet nothing happens, and nothing happens. Sometimes, he thinks he can hear horses outside their dim circle – a scream like a unicorn’s, the scraping of other hooves, other shoulders, against the cave-in.
He takes it as a final lesson from Tempus that none of their efforts do any good.
Instead, more magic. Instead, the trees begin to shiver, leaves and limbs all moaning, and Asterion stops in his work and turns with the others to watch as the trees shrink to saplings.
It is a painful thing, to watch such magic occurring; it makes his head hurt, makes his thoughts foggy and sore. His eyes don’t want to believe it, and yet there is the proof. They are…free, although the word doesn’t feel quite right. In fact, the bay thinks he might never feel free again, not with the memory of this meeting.
The others begin to file away, and Asterion only inclines his head, dark eyes watchful, too weary to speak or to think. He returns Eik’s smile: I will see you soon, his own promises.
And then he turns to Cyrene and Florentine, his lips a wry twist. “Well,” he says, “this was…” But he can think of nothing to add, and only lets slip the kind of laughter born of exhaustion and not humor. And then he files between the trees, grateful at least for the shade, for the cool wind that begins to reach him the further from the clearing he goes.
There are so many new questions, now, they must work on the answers to – but for the moment he lets them all go.
all the ships are left to rust*
06-29-2018, 06:31 PM
Played by
Obsidian [PM] Posts: 380 — Threads: 45 Signos: 25
always one decision away from a totally different life
-- ♕ --
There is nothing that works. Even together they cannot shift the great stones that have fallen to block them in. The gods are silent and there is naught but the resounding efforts of the regimes to fill the quiet of the temple.
The light blazing in through the window she cut does little to melt the stone. Slowly, naturally, the seam between worlds begins to knit closed. The girl’s heart is thunder within her chest. She thinks she hears a cry from the other side of the rubble and her thoughts drift to the ebony unicorn.
Together they toil on, striving to fix what does not wish to be fixed. Though movement catches in the corner of her eye and the flower queen turns. Trees are shrinking, turning back to saplings, young and fresh. Their branches shrink and the world beyond begins to creep back in.
For a moment Florentine simply stands and watches. Such magic reminded her of her childhood in the Riftlands, where Time and Magic would slow down and speed and turn upon a dime to run in reverse. A part of her gilded soul warms with the sight, but then her recollections are lost when her brother moves. Beside him she reaches the exit and her ears twist forward to listen to the world beyond.
Her lips tip into a smile as the Day queen leaves like a caged tiger freshly released. Then Somnus and Florentine’s lips reach to brush the edge of his shoulder as he departs. “The same to you, Somnus, always.”
It is only when the girl turns back to her brother and Cyrene that she begins to feel the creep of exhaustion upon her body. It gnaws at the edges of her yet she smiles a sleepy smile up at her brother, a shoulder rolling with indifference. (Had the gods not bothered her so?) She wonders how like Ravos this might have felt for Asterion – but it is a fleeting thought because her gaze then fills with the red of Cyrene.
“I think there is much for us to tell our court and even more for us to talk about. We shall have to meet soon.” Her lips touch each in turn and then her brother is gone – stars swallowed up in black. “I shall see you back at home, Cyrene. I am going to find everyone who came to wish us well.” With that the fae-girl steps out into the darkness leaving gods and temples behind her.
very minute felt like an hour, and with every stone and pebble he moved it became more and more obvious that Po was not used to manual labor.
It did not take much time at all for sweat to dampen his flanks and shoulders, a trickle of it running down his face. His flower crown was askew, many of the petals wilted and missing pieces, his mane beginning to come out of his careful braids and becoming a frizzy mess. Still, he toiled alongside the other regimes, having given up hope of moving the trees and resigning himself to digging his way out—literally.
”I don’t understand!” he wanted to cry out, affording himself a sidelong look at the prone and inanimate statue. His entire life he had believed himself blessed by the gods—blessed to be carried out of Solterra as a babe, blessed to find such kind traveling merchants to shelter him, blessed to be nursed back to health by Grainne and to find Odet and to find a home and purpose within the Dawn Court. The gods had only ever been kind to him—or so he had thought. This meeting, along with Tempus’ enigmatic statements and the arguing that had commenced above them, none of it made sense to him. It made his heart and heart ache.
He did a double take at the statue. ”It’s eyes…” The wind whispered through the trees as the statue began to glow once more, and Ipomoea stopped all pretense of his work.
And then the trees began to shrink, bending for the god in a way that they never would for Po.
He took a tentative step forward, watching as those glowing eyes went blank once more. All around him the Regimes echoed his confusion, and made their exits, saying their goodbyes and taking their leaves. Po continued to stare at Tempus, taking one slow step after step closer until he stood right at the statue, a scrutinizing frown on his face.
And then he turned and followed Somnus and Orion, still silent as he stepped through the opening and weaved between the saplings. He made sure to brush his wings against each as he passed, feeling their thrumming energy and reliving the events through them. They sang to him sweetly, a soft goodbye that sharply contrasted the events of the meeting. He pressed his shoulder softly into Somnus’.
He wasn’t walking for long before a familiar blue bird came winging through the air at him in a flurry of wind and feathers.
Ipomoea had only enough time to stop and prepare himself before Odet barreled into him, his small mass striking him like a bullet. There was a minute of confusion, the appaloosa simply standing there and allowing his bonded to flit around him from nose to tail, withers to hooves, checking him over for cuts or bruises or anything amiss.
Satisfied that his bonded was unharmed, the songbird settled himself happily between Po’s ears, taking his rightful place at his crown of flowers. “I’m happy to see you, too.” Odet replied with a series of small chirps, nesting deeper into his forelock. He was home.
Only then did Ipomoea continue to follow Somnus. He knew there would be many conversations behind closed doors to come, as well as an address to their people… but first, he just wanted to see Messalina.
After what may have been hours, the last of the trembling finally subsided. And in its wake…. There was silence. For minutes, hours, days; many would argue how long it truly lasted. Tempus’ voice did not carry across the breeze, and the gentle wind went quiet. The gods had been seen and heard - both their voices and their corporeal forms. For some, anger flared at their sudden and unexplainable appearance. And for others, there was only awestruck silence or fevered questions.
But the silence - both from the inhabitants of Novus and from Novus itself - would not last long. As light broke across the land it found all four of Tempus’ children standing, their attention unwavering and their eyes trained on the horizon. No matter where they were in the lands…. The stared off to Veneror.
Their speechless gaze felt like an eternity in a second. And then the ground shook.
No, it was not another earthquake that would split the earth… this was something else entirely. From the caverns beneath Veneror - from the caves, from the crevices in the mountain, from the trees and from the soil - they emerged. Four beasts of all measure and size - none of which had ever been seen by any inhabitant near nor far.
The holes that peppered the Bellum Steppe at the bottom of Veneror Peak caved, opening up miniature craters in their wake as a flurry of brown and iridescent copper-streaked fur burst forth from the ground. The creatures were wild-eyed, standing only a few feet high but boasting long teeth that clattered together in a deafening roar as their long fore-claws scraped and moved the dirt beneath their paws. Their clamor headed towards Terrastella, leaving upturned soil and caving hillsides in their wake as their fervor grew to new heights.
The leaves of the trees scattered across Veneror shuddered, their branches bending and bark cracking. They lunged nimbly from the trees, arms spread wide for the air to catch upon the membranes stretched from wrist to ankle. They were hoisted high into the skies, as the wind began to whip angrily amidst the Worship peak, golden fur shining brightly in the sun. The currents beneath their bodies lurched them in the di unrection of Delumine, a flicker of flames appearing upon the keratin spines gracing their backs.
Ancient trees cracked and felled themselves from the Arma mountains as a massive flock of feathered raptors clamored angrily from amidst their depths. Their talons ripped the thick branches, tree trunks cracked with the resounding shockwave of their beating wings, and beaks clacked angrily at the skies. Their shrieks echoed through the mountainside as their wings - a duo set that were a monstrous 25 feet across - crested them towards Dencote, rolling storm clouds trailing in their wake.
And at last, the thrumming wardrum of hooves echoed. It grew louder, louder, louder - the grass cracked beneath their hooves and talons, turning to ice and splintering in their mighty wake. The lumbering gallop of the winged ungulates could be felt in the sternum of every nearby inhabitant as the massive creatures burst forth from seemingly nowhere in the mountainside. Their back feet dug into the ground with every pace, heavy talons digging into the dirt and thrusting them off with more force. There large antlers were translucent and appeared nearly icy, seemingly to leave a mist in their wake, their wild eyes set on Solterra as they galloped away.
After the earthquake tremors subside in the wake of Tempus and Veneror, silence stretches across all of Novus. It is days before the wind rustles or the birds sing, but the silence is broken as suddenly as it started.
From four different parts of the Veneror Peaks burst four different creatures, their like never before seen in Novus or across the world. They arrive in packs according to species, fleeing from the Peaks and headed each in different directions. It won’t be long before they make their arrival within each of the four Courts!
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