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Played by Offline Zombie [PM] Posts: 45 — Threads: 5
Signos: 350
Dusk Court Champion of Wisdom
Male [He/Him/His] // 11 [Year 493 Summer] // 15.2 hh // Hth: 12 — Atk: 8 — Exp: 18 // Active Magic: Earth Manipulation // Bonded: N/A
#1



He hated to say it, but he missed Asterion. He had hoped the man would have stayed much longer than he had, leading his people in a way that Rhone valued. He had experience in the sovereign department and he felt as though Asterion was leading much like he would have led his own people. He was looking forward to seeing how Terrastella grew under his leadership. But now? Now all of that was gone and Rhone felt lost. He supposed he shouldn’t feel so a lone, but he couldn’t help but feel as though he was the only one here. With Erd missing and Ard out looking for him, Rhone had very few friends left in Dusk Court. It saddened the stallion, but he tried hard not to let that show.

Rhone had to tell himself that Marisol was the new queen and she would continue Asterion’s legacy. Unfortunately for the bay stallion, he didn’t know Marisol. The only interaction he had with her had left a sour taste in his mouth because he questioned her judgement. He knew he shouldn’t have, but he couldn’t help it. Now with that sour taste still lingering, could he trust Marisol as wholeheartedly as he trusted Asterion? He only hoped so.

The morning had started like all the others. The hour was early, far earlier than most cared to be awake. But this early morning, this dawn, was something he enjoyed. The colors of the sky as the sun began to slip above the horizon. As the sky turned pink, purple, orange, and even yellow, Rhone looked out over the cliffs and just stared in awe of his beauty.

Eyes looked to the oak tree that he had planted. It grew where no other trees could grow, it’s roots digging into the limestone cliffs and somehow holding on. Each time Rhone came to this cliff, he used his magic to grow it a little taller, a little wider, and with far more beauty. It was his job, he felt, to continue to make Terrestella beautiful again. Even though he would never watch the sunrise with Asterion again, he would still think about the stallion while he was up here. Surely life here would remain the same. Surely Marisol would do a good job. He had to have faith. He had to have hope that life really would go on and it would go on for the better.

Hope. It was something the stallion had been lacking recently, but it was something he was trying hard to have. He had always been the optimistic stallion and recently, he had found that he tended to be a little pessimistic. Rhone really was trying to be more hopeful, have a little more faith, and smile a little more. He was older than most and this was his place of retirement. Shouldn’t he be enjoying himself?

@Marisol - nothing like watching the sunrise!









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Played by Offline RB [PM] Posts: 135 — Threads: 18
Signos: 200
Dusk Court Sovereign
Female [She/Her/Hers] // 5 [Year 498 Fall] // 16 hh // Hth: 18 — Atk: 22 — Exp: 37 // Active Magic: N/A // Bonded: N/A
#2

hallelujah
I found
jesus when
i drowned
She hadn’t wanted to come here at all: it reminded her too much of him, of them. It stank of all the times she had raced along the cliff’s edge with Asterion or watched Cirrus turn cartwheels in the sky; even when she closed her eyes and pictured it, nothing close to the real thing, it made her ribs hurt. Her heart still smarted like an open cut. The salt from the wind off the ocean would not do anything, she was nearly sure, but tear at what little scab had begun to form.


But today she’d woken up before the sky was even blue. and started moving toward the sea before she could even think about it. Felt the tides tugging like a fist at the hook in her chest. It was as hardy and divine as an omen, with a refusal to be disobeyed, and not an uncommon thing for Marisol to wake up to nowadays. At this point the urge was often unignorable, no matter how early or late it was, how much she should have been doing: there was little to be done about it except listen and return home as quickly as possible, gods willing without missing anything.

Overhead the sky is turning pink, orange, purple as the sun crawls up, and despite herself Mari wants to smile as she watches. It is beautiful. And to be here, watching, is a bittersweet thing. I wish you were here, she thinks briefly, and falters in step as she moves closer to the sea. The air is bright and sharp with salt now, burning the insides of her nostrils, and clouds are falling away as the horizon glows brighter and brighter until the sky is clear and no stars are left.

Now that it’s light out she can see the shadow of someone standing against the backlit sea, and she does not even have the energy to be disappointed that she is not alone. 

“Good morning,” calls the Commander, and slows to a relaxed walk. She is equal parts surprised and relieved to see, as she comes closer, that the figure is Rhone: they don’t know each other well, but truly, he is the only member of Terrastella with a level head at the moment. They are all too young, too manic, and more than anything too distraught. Without a firm hand and a soft voice they will never make it through this. And Rhone has both those things in spades. 

“Speaking.”
credits





[Image: ddg6quy-9d15dab5-339c-4b09-8b57-20a99fda...jvUop12efQ]

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