 MAXENCE LOOKING UP FOR HEAVEN
'Look to the east past the caltrops and pikes, as far as your eyes can see. The mountains we watch are clothed in blood! WHY then are they naked?' The commander could still recall that speech and how boldly he had spoken, the conviction in his voice and anger within his eyes. It had not been his first nor his last words to his men and like many other orders of wisdom they were words rattled through burnt lungs, his knees sucked deep in a cocktail of mud, blood and entrails. That was the way of his world, or so it had been. Each day had been the last of a number of his brothers and he had made countless speeches and calls to arms in his career as commander, so why did these words in particular ring out? As he stood upon the crumbling battlements of the capitol Maxence had fallen out of reflection as quickly as he had found himself in it, casting his mind away from the memory of his bloodsoaked, blue-striped brethren. For a minds eye as sharp as his own, to gaze upon something like that was more painful than a kick to the groin. He had come to the Day Court on other business though - a second attempt at rallying the courts inhabitants would be vital if they were to ever succeed in uniting this sorry land, and he did feel that some time for the members to reflect was all the needed. Truly, he was far from talented when it came to finding words for such speeches and it was obvious his first booming echoes across Solterra had been somewhat sub-parr, though still he hoped to Solis that they had at least taken his words' meaning home alone with them that night and pondered. They truly did not wish to stay this way forever did they? Their numbers small, no community, no goals, no ambition or purpose? It was the opposite of a court, if anything it was a barren land where these nomads had roosted in travel. Why not make it a home? A hub? A barracks? A castle. It was then as his glitening eyes cast once more over the unforgiving landscape that he reached for one final breath and the energy needed to call for the court and its entire populace. He began with the breath, heaving it in before he exhaled with a great roaring nicker, the kind that resonated over the dunes and bounded off the canyon walls. It was soon followed by a clearer but softer call, this time in the shape of words. "We have reflected! The time has come to hold council!" THIS IS NOT A COMPULSORY MEETING, BUT IF YOU WISH TO BE CONSIDERED FOR A WARDEN/CHAMPION/REGIME POSITION PLEASE ATTEND. Because Maxence won the sovereign OOC contest, we now have to put this into play ICly - So just in case you haven't been following the plans in the Day Court chat here's how this is gonna work! THIS THREAD - We will essentially have a council meeting with the court, just with a predetermined outcome (1. that they should unite and 2. that they should chose a leader by means of trial by combat). Because the courts ideals center around battle and strength, all those who deem themselves worthy to be leader will proceed to the hunt. NEXT THREAD - Set the morning after this meeting, the trial by combat begins at sundown and those who nominated themselves will proceed to hunt the Elder Teryr, a ferocious beast among the largest in Novus. The last left standing and the slayer of the beast has by Solis's blessing or by his own strength triumphed, thus has the right to become sovereign of Solterra. (Because Maxence won the competition, this will be Maxence... I feel bad for saying that? lmfao) NOTE! based on how your character behaved during the last meeting, this thread and the upcoming hunt thread will determine ranked positions. Obviously Maxence isn't going to chose someone he doesn't like. NOTE! You have until the 12th to reply before the next round begins. TAGGING: all Day Court characters! @Aryel @Victorina @Oz @ |
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This time, when she heard the call, Seraphina was the first to arrive - a sharp contrast to her prior lateness, though inconvenient in that she hadn't the chance to read the room before entering the fray. Had these past few days given her ample time to cool her head? That would make the assumption that she had been genuinely angry or insulted in the first place. Despite the -intentionally - incendiary tone of some of her remarks, Seraphina was grateful to see the court acting as a unit again. The last Sovereign had been a tyrant, (She gritted her teeth simply thinking of him and the wartorn populace he left in his wake.) but, at the moment, they were so displaced and scattered as to be perfectly defenseless in the face of any potential threat. It was dangerous for them to remain in such a state, and while her sense of national pride - or psychological conditioning, to put it a bit more bluntly - refused to allow her to process the court's current state as "decaying," citing it as disloyalty, Seraphina would be quick to admit that they were in a precarious position, and she longed for normalcy, even if it burned her. Whether or not it did, she supposed, depended on what sort of Sovereign took power - she supposed that it didn't matter. The title had her loyalty regardless. She fixed her mismatched stare on Maxence as she picked her way up the half-ruined stairways to meet him on the battlements. She was still unsure of what she thought of the man - he looked a capable warrior, and his bluntness could rival her own. (That being said, he also had fire.) She cleared her throat on approach, offering a polite dip of her head and a soft, "...Maxence." in greeting. If she did not know what she thought of him, she knew even less how he regarded her - she suppose it didn't matter. His greeting for this second meeting felt a good deal more refined in the last, supposing that he was regarding the court as a collective and seeming to welcome their input. Seraphina was not entirely sure how to approach the stallion; she knew virtually nothing of him, past his general temperment, and she considered herself to be rather poor at socialization besides. Nonetheless, it seemed that the two of them would be working together in the future, for better or worse, and Seraphina supposed that it might not be a bad idea to take advantage of her quickness to offer him a few words before the others arrived. She considered him for a fraction of a second, odd eyes darting over his frame with pinpointed, professional accuracy, then added an equally soft, though cool, "Regardless of what I might have implied in our last meeting, I am grateful for your intervention. It has been far too long since I've seen the court do anything." She seemed mechanical, though there might have been a hint of resolve in her icy tone."The last man to rally us together was a tyrant - and I witnessed firsthand the fickle wars he threw us into. I still know nothing of you, - or your motivations for summoning us - but I would like to hope that you are...different, regardless of whether or not you seek power." She paused, a hint of thoughtfulness working its way into her tone. "It seems we will be working together, and I would prefer our relationship be amicable. I simply wish to offer an...explanation." She was disinclined to apologize - she still stood by her every word. She offered another stiff nod, then glanced out towards the horizon, awaiting the rest of the court. Ft. The most awkward not-apology possible. Also this was written on my phone at 2 am in half an hour because I was worried I wouldn't get it up before I leave tomorrow otherwise, so forgive me for the inevitable ridiculous typos  I'M IN A ROOM MADE OUT OF MIRRORSand there's no way to escape the violence of a girl against herself.☼please tag Sera! contact is encouraged, short of violence 
LEVIATHAN
the supernova There was a cooler head on the younger's shoulders it seemed on this day, rather than posturing and snarling, he was speaking bold and proud. The reflection, it seemed, had calmed him somewhat, and that was the making of a Sovereign. One that would reflect on their actions and grow from them, instead of storming forward like a hot-head. Leviathan himself had been hotheaded when he was young, and it had caused far too many problems, to the point where the kingdom around him had fallen and he had been shoved out by those he had trusted most at the time. It had been a dark time indeed, and he would not want to see it happen here in Solterra. So now he approached, the titan he was, thick limbs moving him forward, his tail flicking as he drew up to a halt. He offered no words, unlike the one next to him, but he no longer offered a sneer on his face nor a sharp look in his eye. He seemed a little more proud instead, a silent acceptance of the other. He pawed at the ground, and turned his attention toward the one next to him, a woman speaking, and he found he respected her for it as well. As followers of Solis, they were all hotheaded in their own terms and fired up easily, clawed and snarled at one another and proved themselves through brute strength. It was their way, after all. It was just how they were. "Council it is then. A wise choice." There was a softness to his words, and they lacked the sharp coldness they'd held at their last meeting. Rather than take a bite, he simply allowed himself to turn his head slightly, to look at the other and seemingly measure him up. There was no hostility nor alternative intentions with his gaze, it lingered, and he seemed to make his mind up on something, nodding to himself once and tossing his horned head to get his mane away from his face once more. It tangled again, and he breathed out instead, an epitome of calm and waiting for those that had shown last to appear once more. levi doesn't apologize but i mean at least he's trying to be nicer ffff There is a point, somewhere, or rather a line - drawn much farther than most others, surely, and as easily disturbed as one made in the sand, but a line, nonetheless - where Bexley will have to put aside her pride in order to keep moving forward. She’s known this since the day she was born. Dreaded it, but was fully aware. And, finally, she had crossed it. The exile she had put herself into after that absolute fucking disaster of a meeting had left time for many an hour of sunstroke-induced reflection, and looking back on what had happened made her think here, the line, I’m crossing it - the moment in which she had stood in the sand, perfectly still, dripping with light, and realized that she wouldn’t get as far as she wanted to just by being a bitch. The Day Court was her home, she was perfectly suited to it, but so was everyone else she’d met, meaning every single one of them would be stubborn and hotheaded and self-confident. That meant a complete overhaul. It meant that Bexley was going to have to be, up to a point, genuine about her intentions in the Court. So much for an easy ride. Bex was going to have to change her whole approach, fight tooth and nail to get where she wanted to go. Not like it matters. The idea of a challenge is more exciting to Bexley than anything else. It just means a little more preparation for a lot more fun. She’s spent the last few days slinking around the court like a feral cat, maybe not hidden, not with that body and that shark-toothed smile, but quieter than she has been in a long time: those indigo eyes glowing with a feral light, the gears of her mind turning incessantly, the muscles under her skin churning like water where they’ve been built up from the last few months of traveling. She’s feminine but not frail, not a cyclone but a thunderstorm. It’s pleasing to know that now there is some extra force in her step. Satisfying to feel the weight of her curls as well as the strength in her shoulders. Her senses are sharper too, and she snaps to attention when she hears Maxence call, though for a moment she doesn’t move, weighing her options. It would be absurd for her to arrive first, but she can’t afford to be anything more than fashionably late. Ears pricked, she waits patiently until someone else’s voice sounds from over the hill, then turns and starts forward. - council it is then. A wise choice. Bexley emerges snakelike into the clearing, a vision of bleached hooves and hair that remains soundless as she draws to a stop between the two commoners that have arrived ahead of her. She can’t recall their names exactly, but knows she’s seen them before. The woman next to her is beautiful in a stormy sort of way that’s easy to remember, the man on her other side so huge and dark he’s easily committed to memory. After a moment her bruisy blue gaze passes them. She moves to watch Maxence with a slightly sedated interest, pushing down the urge to spring on him, to say something, to flash that sharp and biting tongue, and succeeds in her attempts to be civil. For a moment Bexley is still and entirely quiet. Even though she’s aware that her necklace is showing, slipped into view where it’s usually hidden by her hair, she doesn’t bother moving it back. Instead Bex inhales and holds. When she speaks it’s calm and timed as carefully as a guided bomb. “I’m here.” That’s all that comes for a long moment, Bexley still staring, statuesque. Then half a smile drifts onto her face, so subtle it could be a reflection of someone else’s grin, or even hers but from some time long ago, muted by weathering, by control, by the golden glow of past experience, mirrored a hundred times in a row like a funhouse. “And I’m going to help. The Day Court deserves better. It’s worth working for, this Court is, so - thank you for helping us start to do that.” Her nostrils flare. It’s the closest Maxence will get to her seal of approval. Bexley’s voice might be carefully controlled, but it’s also undoubtedly sincere. She tilts her head to one side, letting those silky curls waterfall, and, with that smile still light on her face, waits for her next cue. Every moment planned ahead, every word chosen carefully. Bexley is nothing if not an actress. this is huge lmfao sorry !!   The summons had breathed life into the girl. Sand dusted her hide and mottled the shimmering gold of her hooves as she neared the squat, sprawling sandstone fortress. Slowing to a canter, amber eyes searching for the front archway, heaving sides slick with a sweat well earned beneath the might of the burning sun, Eden tossed her skull to the depthless azure skies. As her head reached the apex of it's arc, wildflowers and thick ebony locs floating in a moment of weightlessness, the girl let loose a wordless cry, the bellow ricocheting off of the worn blocks that made up the fortress' wall; a summons of her own. Rounding the flank of the stronghold and at last spying the arched entryway through which the Day Court's base of power lay, Eden felt a pulse of something akin to victory within her well-muscled chest. Gold tipped ears perked forward as she passed beneath the sand worn arch, sturdy aurelian hooves clattering upon the smooth cobbles of the courtyard and vibrant sun kissed gaze alighting upon a small gathering of warriors. There was a stallion, winged and adorned with trophies won from previous battles, standing at the center of it all, a sort of pull to him that demanded deference and respect. The paladin would choose him as her commander and none other. Slowing to a walk and finally to a stop beside a storm kissed mare, a lady dressed in gold, and a scarred elder stallion, Eden faced the winged stag with an unwavering stare, warrior's heart thudding against her ribs in tandem with the pulse of the Universe. Unblinking, unflinching, she held the unnamed commander's icy blue gaze and lifted her front right hoof, bangles clinking gently with the movement. Holding herself there for a moment, gilded hoof suspended, the maiden cocked her head to the side, listening for any sign of dissent amongst the whisperings of the wind or the hissing of sand upon stone. Finding none, the girl straightened, a smirk curling at her blackened lips as she slammed her hoof to the earth with a bone shaking thud, chin tilted upward, baring her neck in either a defiant dare or supplicating reverence - which, she did not know. "Commandant," Came her brusque announcement, her assertion of obedience to the stallion that stood before her, her otherwise feminine voice gruff with disuse, "You are mine to serve." She spoke it like she was claiming him, and indeed, that is what she intended to do; she would battle alongside this battle hardy stallion, shoulder to shoulder against those that would oppose the Light. Together, with their brothers and sisters in arms, they would spread the noble cause of this Solis, god of light and righteous heat. Their war drums would be met with subservience, their victory with revelry and prosperity. She would bear her burning will as a divine hammer, her purpose an extension of her very being.
Inkheart
JUST LIKE FIRE, BURNING OUT THE WAY
IF I CAN LIGHT THE WORLD UP FOR JUST ONE DAY WATCH THIS MADNESS COLORFUL CHARADE NO ONE CAN BE JUST LIKE ME ANYWAY Hadn't she just me this man? Twin lobes swiveled to hear his call, his bellowing for a meeting. To hold a council. He had claimed not to be the sovereign, but he sure acts like one. Putting himself on a pedestal in front of all the others of Solterra (who choose to appear)... That's the act of a narcissist or a ruler, though there's nothing to prevent them from being one and the same. But still, even so, she comes. Curiosity as much as any kind of obedience. The long legs take her toward the Day Court (for since their last meeting she had wandered off), and her golden orbs take in the sight of, of course, Maxence. Beckoning those living her to hold a council. They're strangers of course, but she suspects they won't be that way forever. Two mares, a stallion... they're all interesting looking creatures, but her attention is drawn to Maxence. She studies him - his painted form and decorations, the lion pelt he wears as a cloak. She stands still, quiet, her breath barely audible. Instead, she is listening to the words coming from the others who have joined. The overall consensus seems... begrudging respect. It is clear from their words that they have all met in a meeting before, but of course she wasn't around for that. Still she stands silent, not voicing her support or dissent. Trying to unite Solterra. There had not been sovereigns in the time that she had been in Novus. True, she hadn't been around forever. She has no opinion either way on whether the realms should be united, made into something. All she really cares about is Solis. If this is the best way to honor him, worship him, to bring all the sheep into the shepherd's fold, so be it. She glances from side to side, wondering if others will join or if this is the meager membership of the Day Court. Finally, soft and rich vocals present. "You have the makings of a sovereign yourself." But she will not follow just anyone, and no one blindly. She wants to partner with this Maxence, but first.... "Prove yourself." Or perhaps she will beat you over the head. Tag: All of y'all Comments: Sorry it's shitty, I was distracted >_>
 Wandering the blistering landscapes of Solterra wore his patience thin, soaked his hide through, and made his bones ache. A truly unforgiving landscape, at best; at worst, it would be someone's end. But something about it struck a chord with Torstein, and although he was wholly uncertain of what this continent would bring him, he was intent on learning what it had to offer. Not like he had any fathomable way to get back to his old homestead in Stolthet, anyway. Thus, he trekked. From the jutting expansion of Elatus Canyon, he worked his way downward - for when he peered over the plains that lay in the distance, a structure large and bold caught his eye. It was to this, he trudged. Across the shrublands, hot in the day and searingly cold at night, towards what he would learn to be "the Day Court." He was staring upon the tall walls of the Court, inspecting the old but still strong ruins and worn but not crumbling stone, when he heard the booming cry. Black ombre ears perked up ever so slightly, and his head turned in the direction from whence it came. Peering off in the not-so-far distance, he spotted the origin from which he assumed it came: a painted stallion, with a set of large, stately wings folded at his sides and a posture that bled confidence. The massive beast tilted his head, and chuckled to himself. This should be good. Heavy hooves plodded slowly towards the gathering of equines that was steadily growing larger in numbers. Getting closer, a familiar scent hit his nostrils alongside all of the fresh ones... as he stood farther away from the crowd, his eyes scanned those present. Eventually, they fell upon the mare with the collar on her neck. No motion was made to call to or signal the gray fem, but instead a mental note was made - she must be either a regular in this area, of a member of... whatever the hell this gathering was. He knew she was the only one that might recognize him (although truth be told, he'd be quite shocked if she didn't). To everyone else, he might as well be an unwelcome visitor - but he was not standing close to them by any means. That was not to say that he couldn't hear the conversations taking place; he was just close enough to, even if he had no current interest in interjecting. Instead, he stood by silently, listening and taking in what the painted stallion (and various others) had to say. He had a good pep talk, Torstein would give him that... but having no idea of what his qualifications were, Tor really couldn't be a good judge on whether or not he could lead. But why would I care if he could lead, anyway? Ombre ears twitched backwards, laying lazily against the crown of his head. He bickered mentally with himself: but now that I think about it... I have no conceivable way to return to Stolthet. It would make sense to find a place to call my home, even if it's temporarily. Nothing would make him stay for the long term if he didn't want to, anyway. And from a quick glance, this gathering of people didn't seem too terribly incapable. Speaking of them... The painted stallion with wings, confident and headstrong. Maybe qualified... but who knows? The gray collared mare, unsure but seemingly devoted. Adorable in her own right. The horned, mottled, and scarred stallion that rivaled his own size (not something he saw often). He had obviously seen battle - but were his scars an indicator of battles lost, or battles won? The golden mare - quite picturesquely pretty - that was oh so silent initially. She spoke of 'The Day Court' - was that where this was? Must be. The striped mare with dreadlocks a-plenty. She seems like a flower child, if anything.. possibly high maintenance beyond belief. Her words were laughably devoted. Either she knew this stallion well, or she was irrationally foolhardy. A mare, colored of void and gold, who seemed more respectfully reserved of the odd stallion. Her words made it seem like these - citizens, were they? Of the Day Court? Of Solterra, like Seraphina had spoken? - barely knew this bellowing stallion. And last - but he was sure more would show - was the mare painted in muted colors and littered with scars. Her beauty was rough in its own sense, but he could tell her personality was even rougher. That could be irritating... although maybe first impressions would be deceiving. Action. Thoughts. "Speech." Grumpelstiltskin is here! ↤ Reference Image - - chest cavity: CLOSED - - 762 words - - code Ⓒ inkbone ↦ [ please tag @Torstein in all replies ]
I have three eyes TWO TO LOOK ONE TO SEE
Staff note: MEVERRNIND has claimed signos for completing this thread.    the novus crew       the someday crew |
