Novus
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Camillia
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#1

Camillia



Learning of the Gods and Goddesses of this new land Camillia had been thrown into, Caligo had seemed the most appealing. Her outcast nature was all too familiar to the winged mare. Her appearance and her personality had always driven others away. That was without mentioning her demented mother.

Wishing to be accepted quickly into the herd, the safest way of doing things, she opted for the position of medic. It wasn't her first choice or her second. But missing the magic of her previous world or a position to make use of her talent in poison, she had little other choice. Her next goal was to find allies in the herd. She knew how other horses would be drawn to her newness, that was at least before they experienced her abrasive nature. But a bit of her hoped this time would be different.

Wandering about her new home, Camillia admired the stronghold. She couldn't help but be curious about its past and the work that must have done to build such a fortress. It was a place of great mystery, especially to her considering she was quite lost. She had been looking for a part of the castle meant for a medic but had gotten distracted by the architecture. Really she should have waited until after she got more acquainted with the place, but she could be a creature of fancy at times. Her legs growing tired, she paused in what appeared to be a great hall and waited for someone to find her.












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August
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#2

well any man with a microphone
can tell you what he loves the most


It’s been a long time since August has walked the hallways of Denocte’s castle. When he was a boy and his mother worked here as a lady’s maid, he and his father had come once in a while to greet her, and she had shown him where she worked and introduced him to all the cooks and butlers and background folk who made such a place run smoothly. It had seemed impossibly grand to him, then. Now it just seems impossible.

Around every corner some still-boyish part of him hopes for a glimpse of his mother, or to hear her laughter echoing down some narrow side-hall. He hasn’t been back to this part of the city since she was killed; it worries him, the way those old thoughts and sorrows seep up like brackish water from a well he’d thought long since dry.

But then he begins to notice how much has changed. Isra the unicorn, Isra the storyteller-queen, has been remaking the castle the way she’s begun to remake the court itself (or to try; he knows how stubborn Denocte can be). Gemstones glisten from where they’re embedded in pillars that were once only stone. Plants bloom impossibly along railings and even the floors seem to shimmer. August imagines her walking here, changing what she touches, as her dragon makes lazy spirals far overhead.

He doesn’t know where the queen is today. Perhaps still on the island, looking for relics in the humid jungle. With the exception of a passing guard or servant the golden stallion is more or less alone - so he is all the more intrigued to step into the great hall (like the belly of a whale, he thinks) and find a stranger there.

At once he knows he’s never seen her before; she is striking, as impossible-looking as the castle they stand in, a myriad of patterns leeched of color. For a moment he pauses down the hall, passing his assessing gaze over her, and then he steps forward with an easy-going kind of smile, the echo of his steps announcing him well before he arrives at her side. As he dips his muzzle in greeting, he notes the sharp point of teeth against her dark lips, and the winding of what appears to be barbed wire around her long neck.

Interesting.

“Fascinating, isn’t it?” he says, but his silver eyes with their long lashes are not on the architecture. “And to think it’s been here for over a hundred years.”


@Camillia
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Camillia
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#3

Camillia



The mare's prediction hadn't been wrong. Camillia felt she was being watched a moment before the stranger approached. It was an easy feeling to have in such a large castle though. There had surely been others that had seen her but due to the unfriendly air often about her might have turned away. The man approached, his bouncing off the walls before she could see him. She tried to loosen herself, with the unfamiliar place and new stranger she was pulled like a taut bow. Her form shifted towards him and her ears pricked in his direction. Void-like eyes passed over the gleaming man. He was much too pretty for her tastes, his brightness contrasted with her dull, dark coat. She wondered if his personality matched his looks, he already seemed to amiable to her. But that was just her finding something to complain about. It was a bad habit.

"I haven't been in a place such as this. It'll be strange to live here." She trailed off, getting distracted by the thought of waking up in these walls and not out in the open. She doubted these horses had to worry about wolves or even whether their was enough food. She had found the easy life. If she could just deal with socializing and "making nice".

"My name is Camillia, I'm the new medic and I don't really know where I'm going or what to do. I know my stuff but I've never been a proper medic, especially in such a large herd." She looked over him again, now curious of him and what he did. "Are you one of those entertainers? I imagined one to look as showy as you," she said bluntly. It wasn't an insult or a compliment, just the straightforward honesty Camillia was known for.


@August










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#4



The place where she stands is now sacred to her. It was the place where she had built her alter for Metaphor, where she saw him off into the spirit world. She missed him, god she missed him. Her heart still ached and she still shed a tear or two for him. And yet, her body was so very numb. Even as she stands here, she feels absolutely nothing. The ache of loss is still there and she welcomes it, but she no longer feels any sort of happiness. Not even the child who grew in her womb could make the mare smile.

But something draws her from her thoughts and reminiscing. Someone new is in Denocte and she needed to investigate. With what happened to the food stores and what happened to her mate, she was cautious about newcomers. At one point in her life, she might have welcomed them all with open arms and smiles. But today, today something dark had taken over her and she would welcome the newcomer with a blank stare, a void that could never again be filled.

She follows the scent of the others, leaving behind that sacred ground she stood on. Her nose takes her into the castle, into the grand hall where she sees the other two just up ahead. She recognizes one, having seen him at a herd gathering or two. But the other, the more ominous colored one, is a stranger to her. She smells of a foreign land and Katniss cannot help but wonder if she is friend or foe.

But as she approaches, careful of how her tall frame “clip clops” over the alabaster floors. She listens quietly, taking in the information and trying to process it. The new mare makes a comment about living here and Katniss wonders what it would be like to live here in the castle. She had always made her home just outside the palace walls, tucked away on a hilltop. It was there she had made a life with Metaphor and it was there that she now felt so alone and empty. Perhaps she did need to return to the safety of the city.

As the mare introduces herself, Katniss steps from behind a column. It was not meet to scare or intimidate, but to show that there was another in their presence. “Denocte has had some great medics…” Her loving being one of them. She hated knowing that someone’s greed took him from her. He could have shown this newcomer how to be a proper medic. And yet, he was no longer here to do just that. She looks to them both, her gaze void of all emotion. It was an odd thing for the silver black mare, one who was usually full of life. “I am Katniss. Welcome to Denocte.” What else was she to say? Her heart wasn’t quite ready to integrate back into society, but she knew she could not hide away forever. She would have to come forth and do her duty to Denocte.

@Camilla @August












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August
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#5

well any man with a microphone
can tell you what he loves the most


It’s hard to piece apart her gaze, void-black surrounded by those slashes of white, but August gets the sense that he is being weighed and measured and the verdict is…well, not the best. His own expression doesn’t falter; he doesn’t mind such first impressions, not when there’s always an opportunity to shape them into something useful.

Still, she responds openly enough, and he nods even as he scans again the walls around them, matching up what he sees now with his memories of the place. When he was a boy, the thought of living here had been a thrill - how wide the hallways were, how fascinating the thought of a dozen secret passageways to a dozen secret rooms. There were all kinds of stories about the mysteries the castle held, and the history it had seen, and each of them began with a grain of truth.

But now, August knows he wouldn’t give up his modest rooms at the Scarab for an entire wing of this castle. It was far too distant from the sound of the sea, his constant lullaby, and from the heartbeat of the city.

He also wonders what this stranger does, that this building would be her home.

“Most folks can live where they’re comfortable,” he says easily, “whether that’s below a ceiling of false stars or real ones.” His silver-eyed gaze goes back to hers (all he can see in the black is his own reflection, and that of the columns and arching walls behind them) and he smiles at her name, an expression that grows into a full grin at her question and mention of showy.

Before he can answer, the sound of footfalls on hard floor rings out, and he turns, ears pricked, to watch Katniss approach. Much as she knows him, he only recognizes her from passing - a more recent citizen of Denocte, but already named a Champion. Even in the soft light of the citadel she looks far more haggard than the last time he’d seen her, worn thin - August reprimands himself for not knowing why. Though with everything going on, it could be as simple as the fact of life in Denocte.

Though as soon as he meets her gaze, he knows there must be more.

“Camillia,” he says, dipping his muzzle to each in turn, ever the gentleman. “Katniss. A pleasure to meet you both. I’m August - not quite an entertainer, though I do work in the industry. But my position is more…managerial.” His smile is a quick thing, there and gone again, a silver fish flashing fins above the surface of the water. And then he is demure again, glancing between the two mares, who together dwarf him in the hall.

“Katniss is right,” he continues. “We’ve had many wonderful medics, and I’m glad we’ll have another. We’re between Champions of Healing, at the moment, but I can show you to the medics’ quarters, if you like? Or anywhere else, if you haven’t had a proper tour.”



@Camillia @Katniss
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#6

Camillia



"Maybe I'll make my home somewhere else and keep a sort of office here to be easily found," she said lost in thought for a moment. It was then that another horse made themselves known to the growing party.

Within moments of pausing in this hall, Camillia already had two horses at her call. Perhaps she had shown more vulnerability than she had meant to. Or perhaps the equines of were more friendly than she had hoped. Her eyes dancing over the mare and she realized she may have been mistaken as to her previous assumption. The mare had lifeless eyes, devoid of emotion without being the black depths that were Camillia's own. Katniss was her name, a massive mare who looked like she could take on the both of them easily. It made Camillia glad she was not a foe. It seemed there were too many around here with power much greater than her own, it was something to focus on at a later date.

Listening to them both speak, she dipped her head in reply to August and added one for Katniss as well. August was already proving himself useful in offering a tour and Camillia was grateful for that. On the other hand, simply not getting on the larger mare's bad side was enough for Camillia. She didn't know the mare's position, but she suspected she was a warrior of some sort.

"I'd like to follow in those medics hoof prints then, do either of you know any current medics I might be able to ask some questions?" she asked, unaware of the weight of her words. "A proper tour is still needed and I will certainly take you up on your offer," she said to August. Then turning to Katniss she asked, "Will you join us or do you have other things to attend to? I'm certainly interested in your input." They both seemed knowledgeable and August would've probably been enough, but she didn't want to leave behind another source of information. Besides, she was curious what lay behind those apathetic eyes.


@Katniss @August










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#7



The ache that she feels in her heart at the loss of her lover is something that she would not wish upon her own enemy. It has her feeling down and depressed, as if nothing else in this world mattered. She had given her entire life to Metaphor and he had shown her that it was possible to be a warrior and also a lover. He had taught her so many things. Even know, he would tell her to smile, to think of the child that kicked within her womb. He would tell her not to cry over him, instead to prepare for their child’s birth. Katniss still had not told anyone of the secret she carried within her womb, though she suspected some might know. It was intimate and special to her, something she wasn’t yet ready to share with the world.

And yet, despite all of this, she knew that Metaphor would be looking down at her from the stars, telling her to welcome this new Medic and teach her to be great. He would have wanted her to be welcomed with open arms, wrapped tightly with the kindness and generosity that he knew Katniss and Denocte were capable of. And so it was with this knowledge that Katniss trudged forward, ensuring that she at least tried to be welcoming to the newcomer, even if being amongst others only dampened her mood.

She looks to August as he offers to lead her to the medic’s quarters. She nods her head, knowing that she would need to know where they kept the ingredients for potions and salves. Although her small hut still housed several, it would be important for Camillia to learn where things were kept. Perhaps Camillia would rise quickly and find her place amongst the other medics. Perhaps she would be a great one. Perhaps she would make Isra proud.

Deep, red eyes stared down at Camillia, matching her black eyes. But despite being red and full of color, they almost seemed void of anything. They were lifeless and full of pain. And yet, Katniss did not show the other two just how much pain she felt within her heart. August might now of the death of one of Denocte’s medics…but he might not realize just how much that medic meant to her. Perhaps he assumed, as some did. After all, Metaphor and Katniss had lived together since arriving in Denocte. No doubt the rumor mills had been buzzing.

It was Camilla’s question that caused her gaze to shift from August back to her. “Perhaps I could answer some of your questions until we find you a proper mentor.” She had learned quite a bit about the medic life, having been living with Metaphor for some time. She had been taught some of their teachings, how to make some of their salves and potions. She was by no means perfect, but she was learning.

The idea of giving the mare a proper tour was a good idea, something that she would give thanks to August at a later time. She remembered when she had been new to Denocte. It meant a lot to just have one person to help show the ropes. While she was not in the best state of mind for such a tour, she supposed she could stick around. At the mare’s question, she nodded her head softly. “I should like to join you. I am on patrol as it is.” Despite the loss she felt, she still had a duty to Denocte. She still had to protect all those that called this place home. Perhaps getting out and touring would give her a reason to get out and patrol as she was supposed to.

Falling into step with the other two, she looks to the newcomer, her eyes soft and yet void of emotion. “Where do you come from, Camillia?” Everyone has a story and perhaps her story will be interesting. And even if it isn’t, it would certainly get her mind onto something other than the ache that her heart felt.

@Camillia @August












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August
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#8

well any man with a microphone
can tell you what he loves the most


Though he wouldn’t have minded showing Camillia around on his own, there’s a part of August (the logical side of him, the part that’s been trained and shaped to make him a man capable of handling such a sprawling empire as the Scarab has come to be) that’s glad for Katniss’s arrival. It gives him a chance to observe them both, to make a study he couldn’t if he were one-on-one host. Now, his silver eyes glance toward the big warrior, and something catches in the sieve of his memory.

A chestnut, a Denoctian medic, who she had been with often. And news of a death far north, though whether it had been an accident or intentional - or he the intended target, anyway - still unknown.

The line of the palomino’s mouth softened. Death had not touched him in such bold terms since he was a boy, but he still remembers the pain of it, a burning sear, a scar that still prickles on occasion (like now, in the halls his mother used to work and laugh and sing in). August knows there is little that can address such grief, but perhaps when he returned to the Scarab he could find something.

For now he only nods, brisk, and begins to walk easily down the hall, the two mares following. “I know of a couple,” he says, “though we’re shorter than we should be, at the moment. Terrastella is known for its healers, if you ever journey that way - I’ve heard they’re happy to share their knowledge, too.” It’s half a guess (August isn’t close with anyone in Dusk), but he figures from what he knows of those soft and earthy folk that his words are true enough.

He listens to the two talk beside him, though his quicksilver gaze remains on the castle as the hall slopes down and doorways yawn open down passages he can only half-remember. Somewhere, he knows, is a candlelit pool, and up a few stories is the sovereigns’ quarters (a place he’d only been to once, early in Reichenbach’s rule). He wonders how many new secrets the castle keeps, and if the old ones - a few secret doors behind old and faded tapestries, that sort of thing - still linger.

When the hallway branches off in two directions, he pauses, glancing at the two of them, flicking his tail idly as he waits for a pause in conversation. “That way,” he says when there is, and nods to the left, “is the kitchens. An important place to know. And this way,” he indicates the righthand path, and begins to walk again, “is the medics’ library, where they house the castle’s collection of books and herbs and other materials. They’ve stitched me up a time or two when a spar got out of hand.” This last is not quite true - the Scarab kept its own healers, and Vikander played medic for the most part - but August feels it’s not too far off the mark.

Everything could use a little harmless embellishment, now and again.



@Camillia @Katniss
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Camillia
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#9

Camillia



"I should like to visit Terrastella once I settle then, thanks for the suggestion," she said in reply to August. It had been awhile since Camillia had had to deal with so much social contact and it could be hard at times to balance her goals with her tendency to not watch her mouth. She just had to keep in her mind what she was looking and hoping for. Right now it was to learn more of these two as well as the castle. If possible, another wish was to ally with Katniss. Camillia was already taking a liking to the mare, she seemed to be hiding something. Not to mention she was a warrior and could probably teach Camillia a thing or two now that she was missing her magic.

Being asked of her previous world, she realized it had never had a name in her mind. Things had been much simpler there, not as much involvement of the gods and not as developed societies. That also meant less concentration of information which was a positive of this new world. "I don't believe it had a name, or at least I never knew it. I left no one behind-" she didn't count her mother. "-and the only thing I miss is the abundance of magic in that world. Novus seems more stingy with its gifts," she thought out loud. She meant it as no slight to Novus, it was just part of her to be brutally honest.

Caught up in her own thoughts, she had nearly forgotten the tour. This meant she was a bit surprised when August began. "One thing about my previous world was that we definitely didn't have kitchens, you found your own food," she mentioned. When pointed towards the medic library, her interest grew tenfold. She knew they were on a tour and she should keep her head out of a book, but she at least wanted a peek at all that awaited her. "I hope this tour includes a look at the library, I've never seen a proper one before," she said, remembering her mother's small wall of books stacked on lopsided shelves.


@Katniss @August didn't mean to make her sound like a pauper -shrugs-










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Signos: 385
Inactive Character
#10



The ache within her heart grows with each passing moment as she stands here in conversation about medics. When she had come to stand with the other two, she had thought she was strong enough, but she was learning just how weak she was. Speaking of medics and the job that Metaphor loved so much, she only felt a hole where her heart should be. She felt the sting of a tear within the corner of her eye, though she refused to let it fall. It was only the kick of the child within her womb that caused her eyes to rest again on the other two, once again focusing her attention on trying to be the welcome that she had always enjoyed being.

She is thankful when August begins to speak of Terrastella, offering up the help of their medics. She thinks of Asterion and the gentle meeting that they had once shared. He had been so kind and so open, so welcoming. She had no doubt that he would welcome their new medic and help to enhance her knowledge if given the opportunity. “Aye, Terrastella would be a good place to learn. I am sure their king would not mind.” She liked to think that the friendship between the two courts would extend to sharing their wealth of knowledge with one another. Surely they wouldn’t balk at the opportunity to teach a new medic the ways of holistic healing.

She wanders just alongside the other two during the tour, looking towards the kitchen, the library, and all the other things August had pointed out. Even she is still so unused to the grandeur living of Denocte. She’s so used to living beneath the stars where life is more simple. She had never had the luxury of houses or kitchens or libraries. She slept beneath the stars, ate apples from the trees, and learned of history from stories passed down from generations. Coming to Novus had been difficult at first, but she was slowly beginning to get used to the lifestyle that this land offered.

As they travel, she had asked the mare where she came from. Her answer is shocking but Katniss makes no attempt to show her surprise that the mare does not even know the name of the world she left behind. She knew all of her worlds, of Nocturne, of Rift. Each place was different, each bringing something different to the table. “Novus offers a unique set of gifts, and it tries to offer a level playing field.” She had come from a place where magic was endless, the powerful grew unbeatable, the weak grew weaker. But here in Novus, it was impossible to have more magic than another which made knowing her limits and the limits of her opponents far easier. While she was still perfecting her magic, she appreciated it. Where she had come from, she had no magic, only brute strength and unmatched speed. But here, here she was given something far more precious…even if it could not save her beloved.

As they come upon the library, she looks to the new mare, then to August. She cannot help but wonder just where this woman had come from. But then again, Katniss simply did not have the drive or the energy to ask any more probing questions. Already this social interaction was far more than she had been engaged in over the last few months since Metaphor’s death. It was absolutely draining. For once, she understood what depression felt like. All she wanted was to curl before her fire and sleep until her body simply never woke up. But Finnick, god rest his soul, had forced her to keep busy, trying to keep her thoughts pleasant. After all, he could not see her become a victim to her depression. After all, she had a child that would be born that would need his mother.

She sighs as her thoughts leave her. She tries to focus on Camillia and on August. “The library is grand…but Delumine is known for it’s own library. If you ever find yourself there, that would be one to spend your days locked away in.” She had never visited that library before, but she had heard of the stories that it held. Perhaps she would have to make a trip down there at some point. Perhaps once her child was born and weaned. After all, with what happened to her beloved, she would not risk the life of the child they created out of love for one another. If someone were to happen to that child, Katniss would never be able to forgive herself.

@August @Camillia












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