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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)
#1

by sword
by salt
Away, away, away from the noise of the city and the throne, Marisol is sparring with a ghost.

The training field behind the barracks is graveyard-empty, except for her. Overhead the sky is still night-dark; the sun has only begun its rounds, turning the strip above the horizon a foamy kind of pink-and-purple, and clouds are falling away into the cold air. Like birdsong, her spear whistles through the air. Like the whistle of a flute, it’s music to her ears. With all kinds of rage, she hefts it again and again at the training dummy already slashed to bits where it stands in the sand, and with all the precision of a paring knife the spearhead hits its target again and again.

It’s the only thing she’s still sure she knows how to do. Fighting, sparring. It’s all muscle memory to her, as easy as reading or falling asleep. The thud-thud-thud of the spear into straw matches her heartbeat almost exactly. And as the sun rises higher and higher and Mari’s throws hit closer and closer to the bright center of the target, the knots that have built up in her muscles melt away. Exhilaration pushes out the stress that’s hardened deep in her chest. With sweat lacquering her skin, nostrils flared against her face, the Commander finally tosses the spear aside and, with a huff, goes sliding on her side into the sand.

It feels good, to be so exhausted she can’t worry about anything else. Like sleeping without wasting all that time. Her body buzzes with the release of adrenaline. Ribs heaving against the sand, she lets her head fall back and for a long moment just breathes, breathes, breathes. Wind rushes by and ruffles the short, dark strands of her mane; the sun bakes away the salt along her skin.

Then there is the sound of footsteps on the hard, dusty ground. Marisol whooshes a long breath out through her nostrils. One eye cracks open against the bright sun, and when it focuses, a gray filly is backlit above her. “Charlie!” she exclaims, voice warm and bright-surprised, and abruptly rolls up to sitting; after a few short, confused blinks, a smile breaks over her face. “What’re you doing here?”

“Speaking.”
credits





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

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Played by Online Katherine [PM] Posts: 13 — Threads: 4
Signos: 25
Dusk Court Youth
Female [She/Her/Hers] // 0 [Year 504 Spring] // 15.2 hh // Hth: 8 — Atk: 12 — Exp: 10 // Active Magic: N/A // Bonded: Indy (Osprey)
#2


be the it, girl

Mama said, fulfill the prophecy be something greater, go make a legacy, manifest destiny, back in the days we wanted everything, wanted everything. Mama said, burn your biographies, rewrite your history, light up your wildest dreams, museum victories, every day we wanted everything, wanted everything.




The young girl has been running all over the court all morning, trying to find Commander Marisol. She looks in the castle first, skirting down hallways and sliding around corners, Indy following on silent wings just behind her. Until a very stern faced man tells her that “The Queen is not in and you must go.”

What a killjoy.

Charlie sincerely hopes that he doesn’t have kids, and is very sorry for them if he does.

So, out on the steps with the entire court before her, the 6-month old pauses—vermillion eyes serious. Indy perches upon her withers, carefully curling her talons about the willowy girl’s shoulder blades. “Well, that was a bust,” she grumbles, blowing a bit of her forelock out of the way of her face. “Where do you think we should check next, Indy?”

Her bonded is quiet for a moment, then, “It would take all day to search everywhere. And I love you but I’m not a one bird search party. Where did you usually find her, you know, before she became Queen?” Charlie scrunches up her nose and thinks. She has always admired Commander Marisol, but until more recently never talked to her. Just watched how awesome she was.

And that’s when she figures out where to look, and what a stupidly easy place it is. The training grounds! It’s always where Charlie would have seen her, whether she was training herself or practicing with the cadets. The filly has spent way more time at the barracks and the training grounds than she probably is supposed to, but when you’re like her and have free run of the world there’s nothing you don’t do.

She races down the steps, Indy leaving her perch on her shoulders with a few beats of her wings and taking off into the air. The Osprey’s shadow falls over Charlie’s, mimicing the girl’s own wings as if they were splayed open at her sides. Together the pair speed through the streets. Both know the way there by heart.

They would know it in the dark, or blindfolded. The way to the training grounds is in their blood.

It doesn’t take them long to arrive, but Charlie is an endless reserve of energy, already brushing past the barracks and straight for the open fields used for sparring and other things. Slowing, she spies Commander Marisol in the distance throwing her spear. Awed, she stops to watch. The Commander doesn’t miss.

It’s awesome.

One day Charlie wants to be as good with a weapon as her.

When the Commander stops and seems to come to a rest on the ground, Charlie remembers her excitement and begins to bound forward again. Her small hooves beat a stacatto against the hard ground, and Indy circles a few times above before landing on the remains of the dummy. Her vermillion eyes are sharp and bright with enthusiasm.

“I came to find you, Commander Marisol!” Charlie says, hopping a backwards a little bit as the older pegasus sits up. She stands straighter, puffs out her chest and dons a most serious expression. For as long as she can hold it, anyway, before the energy bubbles over again. “I needed to show you something! Look!”

The filly turns toward an open stretch of ground and stretches out her wings. The sun is high and dazzling and she can feel the wind brushing against each of her feathers. Charlie narrows her eyes, and begins to run.

And then, she begins to flap her wings. Great, fast strokes of her wings. One, two, three, and then her hooves are no longer touching the ground. She doesn’t get very high, perhaps, and although the young pegasus hasn’t testing exactly how far she can go, the fact that she can actually fly is enough to make her excited for weeks to come. She’s been dying to fly since the day she first put her hooves on the ground, and practicing almost every day since.

Charlie turns in the sky, a little wobbly, and heads back toward the Commander. And although she skids and stumbles some on the landing, she’s already rushing back toward Marisol with a beaming smile on her face. “I did it! I had to show you first.”
credits





[Image: 13222742_95oVYzdeR5MVhK5.png]
you and i, we're pioneers
we make our own rules

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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

For a long time Marisol was nothing but a soldier. Now she is Commander, and queen besides, but more important than that she is a Terrastellan whose love for her people is stronger than bone or blood or iron. Stronger than any other pull of romance or desire, she knows that now. Her chest builds with warmth and a little smile curls her lips as she watches the filly standing over her, and, in the distance, Indy landing easily on the dummy now leaking straw. 

Charlie is precious. The next generation, what will remain when Marisol and her regime have long gone into the ground. Nothing, really nothing, is more important than helping her grow up with room to fly and the support of her people. Mari sits up straighter, brushes a thin cast of dirt off her sweaty shoulder with the touch of her dark muzzle. I came to find you, Charlie exclaims, and the Commander beams.

It looks and feels strange for someone so serious, but she can’t help it. Real, perfect happiness rushes down her spine. She watches with bright gray eyes as Charlie turns, her bluish skin dazzled under the hot, striking sun—watches as her wide, nervous wings stretch unsteadily out and start to beat against the warm air, stunningly strong and new—watches and beams as her nimble little hooves drift on the ground and she catapults into the air like a bird being thrown from its nest.

Mari smiles so hard it starts to bubble in her chest, stunning, intense pride coursing like so much electricity through her body and down her spine. This is what it feels like to be young again, she thinks, and the pride is just a little bittersweet. How old is she that she has begun not to appreciate what it feels like to fly?

She shakes her head.

“Charlie, that’s amazing!” The Commander surges to her feet and rushes to wrap Charlie in a kind of hug with one big, soft wing, pulling her in to her side with a too-bright smile: she bumps her muzzle affectionately against the filly’s neck, not even thinking of how unusual it is for her. “Good job! You’ll be up high in no time. I know a good place to practice more, if you want, and I can even show you to how to throw a spear—“

With a satisfied little snort she pulls away, dancing back toward the edge of the training grounds like an invitation, sprightlier than anyone has seen her perhaps in years. And oh, the world is rough-edged but still good in the middle—the sun is shining, and there is so much to do.

“Speaking.”
credits





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

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