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Private  - our hearts we have sold, for diamonds and gold

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Played by Offline Sparrow [PM] Posts: 33 — Threads: 4
Signos: 30
Dusk Court Citizen
Male [He/Him/His] // 4 [Year 499 Winter] // 12.1 hh // Hth: 10 — Atk: 10 — Exp: 13 // Active Magic: N/A // Bonded: N/A
#1

all my life I've been heading for hell
but never had I thought I'd drag you down as well
I just couldn't resist what he was trying to sell

They broke away from the meeting without anyone taking notice of them, following after Marisol once she had begun her trek away from the meeting and the judgmental, prying eyes that surely trailed after her. Skirting around the berth of the citizens with quiet speed, they followed the Halcyon Commander a good distance away before attempting to get her attention. The last thing that either of them wanted was for anyone from the meeting to follow and nose their way into what was presumably going to be a very private conversation, especially that loud-mouthed buckskin.

Ard didn’t like her. They’d never met and quite honestly, he hoped that he never had the displeasure of meeting her face to face. She was too loud, too obnoxious, too whiny, and far too annoying to be someone he handled on a regular basis, but the young warlock found himself proud of the way that Marisol had handled the situation.

Together he and Erd followed within Marisol’s wake, but only when they reached a few meters away that he cleared his throat and called to her, knowing that she would recognize the hoarse rasp of his voice in an instant. “Mari.” Not ‘Marisol’, not ‘Commander’, not ‘Queen’. Just ’Mari’. There was no need for such frivolous formality when talking between family.

With the black cloak billowing around his petite frame, Ard stepped up to the bay woman and pulled the hood down from over his head, letting the heavy fabric rest around the base of his neck. Even when they delivered messages for the Halcyon, he and Erd had never adopted the proper ‘Messenger’ colors, choosing instead to wear their matching black cloaks with deep green stitching, much to the Commander’s chagrin. He folded his wings, feathers ruffling, and the moment that his gaze caught Marisol’s piercing pale grey, the nerves rekindled within his gut, churning and grasping and stealing his breath.

Doubt filled his mind. What if she hadn’t forgive him for his taciturn way of speaking the last time they had seen one another? What if she hated him? What if she, now a Queen, didn’t have time for them?

No, no. That couldn’t be right. Marisol had been the first person to welcome them to Novus. She had taken them in when no one else would, offering them protection and a purpose. The woman, stalwart and determined and stoic as she could be, had understood their desire for peace yet their drive to help, urging them to take up the mantles of Messengers for the Halcyon instead of risking their lives on the front line. They’d done that enough back in Luminous.

Even though his mind warred with itself, trying to justify what he was feeling versus what he knew, the silver warlock felt Erd shift and step up next to him, pressing their sides flush together as though knowing he was terrified. Glancing to his brother, whose identical features were twisted in concern but warm with love and adoration, Ard let out a long breath before facing the Commander once more. Hesitantly he met her gaze, emotion swimming in his eyes.

“C-can… Can we talk?”

"Speaking."
art | bg


@Marisol <3





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Played by Offline Sparrow [PM] Posts: 36 — Threads: 5
Signos: 40
Dusk Court Citizen
Male [He/Him/His] // 4 [Year 499 Winter] // 12.1 hh // Hth: 10 — Atk: 10 — Exp: 14 // Active Magic: N/A // Bonded: N/A
#2

there’s glory ahead but our love will be forgotten
If my heart was still mine I would go to the bottom
And apologize to you until the day it went rotten

“Privately,” Erd added on the tail end of his brother’s request, looking up to Marisol and offering her a pensive smile.

There was a lot they needed to discuss. Not only did he have questions in regards to the Halcyon and the future of the unit, but he also knew that she probably had a plethora of questions for him. Unless Rhone had told her, Erd was pretty sure no one had informed Marisol that he had returned to Terrastella. The details were lost, still, and while he had plans to be completely honest, the last thing he wanted was for the revelations to have dire consequences against Aghavni and August.

The woman who had stolen him away? Manon? He didn’t care what came of her. ‘Mistake’ or not, she had caused Ard far too much pain and turmoil by stealing him away from Terrastella, rekindling the night terrors he had suffered from and only recently had begun to recover from, building upon those fears of losing one another, strengthening his anxieties and dangerous episodes of PTSD.

Erd could forgive her for everything she had done to him, but he would never forgive her for the crimes she had unknowingly committed against his brother.

Offering the Commander another sheepish, bashful grin of white teeth, the young warlock shrugged a slender shoulder. He remained pressed intimately against his brother’s side, standing flush against one another, their hearts beating in sync. “Hi, Mari. Um. Surprise, I’m home? And I think there’s a few things you should know, things that I found out when I was away.” ‘Taken’, more like it, but Erd knew he needed to pick his words carefully. The last thing he wanted to do was upset Ard. “But we really need to talk, if you have the time. I know a lot’s happened here...”

"Speaking."
art | bg






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Played by Offline RB [PM] Posts: 158 — Threads: 24
Signos: 315
Dusk Court Sovereign
Female [She/Her/Hers] // 6 [Year 498 Fall] // 16 hh // Hth: 18 — Atk: 22 — Exp: 37 // Active Magic: N/A // Bonded: Anselm (Ibizian Hound)
#3

by sword
by salt

Mari’s head is throbbing by the time she leaves. She shoulders her way out of the crowd with only dregs of what was once grace, head tucked low against her chest, eyes squeezing closed. Terrastella is her home, but right now it feels like a prison. Penning her in on every side. The once-familiar buildings turned into a trap. The voices of her people have braided into a noose, clawing at her neck. She stumbles out—and with every passing step, every degree of warmth that fades away behind her, more and more tears start to fall. She wants to sob but can’t. Her whole chest feels tight and hot, she can barely breathe; her ears are starting to ring—

Then someone calls her name. Oh, for fuck’s sake, can’t she get one moment of sorrow to herself?

The queen stops. Shakes her head. Takes a deep, deep breath, so deep it aches. And then with the very last of her failing will, she stows her tears and turns around. 

But then she sees them, and she nearly falters.

Like ghosts, like gods, they stand side by side in the street. Their perfect skins of black-and-white, those big, bright blue eyes. Mari’s heart stops in her chest. They look… perfect. Statuesque. Most importantly, unharmed. Her gaze goes wide, her mouth falls open oh-so-slightly; there’s a few things you should know, Erd says, and it’s impossible to know whether the burning in her chest is anger or relief or another whip-lash of sharp, sharp fear.

Whatever he’s about to tell her can’t be good, she knows, and yet how could things get any worse than they are now?

“Ard,” Mari breathes. “Erd—“ She steps toward them both, but does not dare reach out. Fear and hope tremble, holding hands, in her chest. The last time she talked to Ard is a bitter memory, and it’s rising again to the surface of her brain as she looks at him, and how his body is stitched to his brother’s. “I—yes, of course. Yes. Thank Vespera you made it home. Tell me, tell me everything—if someone hurt you, I swear they will be… disciplined.”

She lopes to a shady corner of the street, beckoning them with the tip of one wing to a place secluded from the din of the city and away from prying eyes.  Her heart pounds in her chest like a wild thing, like it can't decide whether to stop or explode

“Speaking.”
credits





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

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Played by Offline Sparrow [PM] Posts: 33 — Threads: 4
Signos: 30
Dusk Court Citizen
Male [He/Him/His] // 4 [Year 499 Winter] // 12.1 hh // Hth: 10 — Atk: 10 — Exp: 13 // Active Magic: N/A // Bonded: N/A
#4

all my life I've been heading for hell
but never had I thought I'd drag you down as well
I just couldn't resist what he was trying to sell

They followed Marisol as one without question, neither one leading the other. Instead they simply moved together as a single being, each step in perfect time and harmony with the other, picking the same gait and speed without even needing to confirm it as they crossed the street just behind the Halcyon Commander. Somehow, Ard knew that he and Erd had grown closer due to their absence away from one another. Somehow, someway, their bodies seemed to remember one another as though they had never been apart, as though they had never been separate beings but one single entity, strengthened now that they were together again. Perhaps, once upon a time, they had been.

Reaching the shady awning that assisted in providing them some semblance of privacy, Ard grew quiet as he turned his back on the street to focus entirely upon Marisol. There was so much to say, but honestly, he felt as though Erd should go first. His own words would come later, at least in depth, but he’d had his own journey the last few weeks.

Exchanging a glance with Erd, the younger twin cleared his throat. It would do nothing to rid his words of the perpetual rasp that coated them, however, but as he began to speak he did so heartfully while shifting closer to press himself flush once more with his twin. “Rhone and I went to Denocte,” he rasped out simply, not wanting to beat around the bush, “That’s where we found Erd.”

’Found Erd.’ The very words still ignited a dangerous fury within him. To think that someone had the gall to waltz into Terrastella and steal his precious, perfect brother away by means of manipulating Erd’s generous heart, with the intent on extracting information from him made Ard sick. Vespera have mercy if he ever crossed the bitch that took him. Erd said her name was ‘Manon’. He would never forget it.

"Speaking."
art | bg


@Marisol <3





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Played by Offline Sparrow [PM] Posts: 36 — Threads: 5
Signos: 40
Dusk Court Citizen
Male [He/Him/His] // 4 [Year 499 Winter] // 12.1 hh // Hth: 10 — Atk: 10 — Exp: 14 // Active Magic: N/A // Bonded: N/A
#5

there’s glory ahead but our love will be forgotten
If my heart was still mine I would go to the bottom
And apologize to you until the day it went rotten


It was hard to see the emotion that swam upon Marisol’s face, the moisture in her eyes from unshed tears and the tension that lined her brow. Typically so stoic in the face of tumultuous uncertainty, Erd could only fathom how the heavy mantle of sovereignship mixed with the dutiful lifestyle of a Commander might alter the woman’s capabilities. Hopefully they would always be close to help her in whatever way she needed, but just as well he hoped that she knew she wasn’t alone in this endeavor.

Situating himself close against Ard’s side once again, their shared warmth a reassuring balm to their mutual anxieties, the elder twin listened as Ard curtly explained where he had been. Erd smiled pensively, an unsteady pinch to his eyes as he did so. Marisol stated to tell her everything, and so with an unsteady inhale followed by a trembling exhale, he did just that.

“I had been fetching some charcoals for Ard as a surprise when I met a woman on the cliff’s named Manon, from Denocte,” he began, picking his words carefully as he thrust his mind back to the evening of his capture, “She pretended she was hurt with a sprained fetlock, and asked me for help, and I… I believed her, so I agreed. I shouldn’t have, but.” He paused, shrugging a slender shoulder with blatant uncertainty. Ard had always told him that his bleeding heart would get him in trouble someday. Erd knew he shouldn’t be surprised when it finally came true, but he still felt like the world’s largest fool once he had realized what had happened.

“At first I was a little uncertain, but she said she was friends with Miss Moira, and I guess that chased away my worries. We’re friends with Miss Moira, and I didn’t think that she would keep friends that were untruthful. Anyway, I helped her back to her boat, and I… I honestly don’t remember much else after that. I don’t know what happened. When I woke up next, I was locked up in a room in Denocte. Manon wasn’t there, but I met a few others. Um. August and Agvhani. Turns out I was somewhere called the ‘White Scarab’. Have you ever heard of it, Mari?”

Erd hadn’t, not before that day. During his stay he had learned a little bit about the somewhat lucrative organization, quickly realizing that they had their hooves in quite a number of pies. There had been more than just a few rather infamous names being dropped during his time there, but the boy had kept quiet, knowing better than to offer much resistance in a place he knew so little about. ’Raum’ and ’the Proprietor’ were a particular two that he continued to pick up on, and every time he heard Raum’s name he would shiver.

“August and Aghavni didn’t seem very bad. They seemed just as confused that I was there as I was, but that Manon… I don’t think I like her very much, and I think we should keep an eye out for her. She can’t be trusted.” And from the sounds of it, she couldn’t even be trusted within the halls of the White Scarab, judging by the mutual reactions between Aghavni and August.

“Anyway, um. They let me go after figuring out that I wasn’t the one that Manon was meant to kidnap, and then Rhone and Ard found me and brought me home.” For emphasis, he puffed out his chest and stood a little taller, even though it hardly mattered when he barely reached twelve hands in height. Still, Erd smiled in what he hoped was a reassuring way, not wanting Marisol to truly worry. He was unharmed and fine, and other than maybe a little more cautious of women in peril, nothing had really changed. “I’m really sorry that I worried you and Theo. Ard told me that you two were really upset. I-I should’ve been more careful, and I’m sorry.” All he had wanted to do was help someone in need. Wasn’t that what the Halcyon were about? Protecting and helping those who couldn’t help themselves? Yet now that trust was broken, and perhaps now he understood Ard’s paranoid tendencies better than ever.

"Speaking."
art | bg






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Played by Offline RB [PM] Posts: 158 — Threads: 24
Signos: 315
Dusk Court Sovereign
Female [She/Her/Hers] // 6 [Year 498 Fall] // 16 hh // Hth: 18 — Atk: 22 — Exp: 37 // Active Magic: N/A // Bonded: Anselm (Ibizian Hound)
#6

by sword
by salt

Rhone and I…

Marisol wishes she could cry. Rhone and I—it should have been her. It should have been her—Regent, Commander, more than either of things friend—who had come with him. Guilt throbs in her chest like a second heartbeat. Her eyes are steady, but she has to swallow hard against the grit in her mouth; it stings like sandstone on her skin, it burns bright in her nostrils. Her gaze films with sorrow. Every beat of those dark lashes seems to send tears closer and closer to spilling.

But she watches how they press against one another, and all the guilt in the world can’t cast out the warmth that she feels in being lucky enough to witness their reunion.

How perfect it must be to love someone so much, and how dangerous, too. She had seen Ard in his frothing rage, had seen the coldness in his eyes and the pure, ice-deep fear. She almost cannot believe it is the same boy who stands now so calm, so warm, so.. happy. Highs and lows and highs again. (Marisol is not sure whether this is worse or not feeling at all, both of which she knows like the back of her hand. Always with the punishment. Always with the killing extreme.)

Erd starts to spin his tale, and Mari listens with rapt attention, her ears tilted forward, her lips parted slightly. Every word rings a new bell in her brain; the world narrows to a pinpoint that looks like Ard, or Erd, or maybe both. I don't think I like her very much... Her whole body is stretched tight as a wire in both anger and excitement. “Miss Moira,” she says, and her voice hardens. “Of Denocte.” (Miss Moira, appointed by Miss Isra, pretty little cheat that she is; if Marisol finds the smallest scrap of evidence that either of them did this knowingly, a war will be started that may very well never end.)

She listens and listens and listens, and her heart hurts with every new word. The world around them is so quiet she can hear each breath frosting the air; when he finishes she blinks slowly and takes a carefully measured inhale.  “Don’t be sorry, Erd.” The queen’s voice is calm and soft, but underneath the pretense something rumbles deep as thunder from her throat, black and scythe-sharp. “None of this is your fault. You would not be you without the soft heart; it is something I envy.” A brief pause, and her lips part. “I’m only glad you are home. There is much to discuss. Come, we’ll have dinner—how long have you been back?”

With the flick of a wing she turns away and beckons them after her down the street. Her chest buzzes with surprising lightness. And her eyes turn up to the place where the sun will set and turn the sky foamy purple, and she says—thank you, thank you, thank you.

“Speaking.”
credits





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

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