there are nights when the wolves are silent and only the horses howl
The seasons develop and devolve just as the tide swells and subsides. Like a steadfast drum, nature proceeds to batter along with the patterned metronome of time. Maerys has come to learn that nothing that resembles permanency actually is; granite constructions retire to the soil, darlings regress to strangers, flesh and fiber that once labored in battles converts to compost for perennials.
Delumine was not immune to this variety of transformation; what once felt like a fortified collection of dedicated individuals that comprised a powerful court now felt barren, a sensation amplified by the draft that lamented through the mortar and brick walls of its fortress and by the absence of their sovereign.
Was it exclusively Maerys that felt this way?
She had begun to neglect the court that provided her with everything she could've required. She took for granted the tender stroke of field against her ivory pasterns, the reprieve from the crystalline sun the trees offered her, the merciful bubbling of the creek that doused her dehydration.
Yet, Maerys craved to correct this.
So she strode through the palace, her hooves clattering against the stone as Vradara's distant sonances echoed from the heaven just outside the dense walls. Her mauve eyes meticulously scoured the intricate architecture as she wordlessly mused, her feelings moderately scattered.
I've been singing to the tune of / a worn down symphony,
Atlas, as a rule, did not like castles; but out of all of those he had the displeasure of exploring, Delumine’s made him the least uncomfortable. Sweet pea vines threading through the cobblestone walls bloomed rouge and indigo, thick-sweet in the summer air; their delicate flowers and spiraling tendrils were a benign facade to encase the poison within them. Sunlight streamed in through gaps in the ceiling where wooden support beams bent disturbingly low, and dark brown shingles had been worn away to make escape routes for bats traveling to and fro through the distant night sky.
He had lived, by the silver skin of his friendships, through rebellions that left the leading class dead and bloodied on the floor. What happened here, in Delumine, was not the righteous, rising kind of rebellion-- it was, instead, a softening, a saddening, a slipping of season into season; how one feels the first brunt of chill fall winds and looks back over their shoulder into the comfort and warmth of summer.
There was a churning, now, amongst the well-learned minds of the people of Dawn, and though Atlas called another court his home, he had never felt more at home but here, where the emotions ran freely and discovery and discussions were shared-- shouted, even-- between the populace. On everyone’s tongues was the vacancy in leadership and the mystery of where the court was to go from here.
Atlas was more than happy to be a bystander in these discussions; he hoped for nothing more but the best for his adopted court; still, he was searching, scheming, for something, something he could not place a feeling on. He rounded a corner, examining a once-intricate depiction of Oriens’ raising the sun with the simple motion of his eyelids; in his distraction, he almost blundered straight into some silver-colored fae. He caught her dove-hued countenance in his peripherals at the last second and froze, not taking into consideration her forward motion possibly still bringing them together.
there are nights when the wolves are silent and only the horses howl
There was a moment where Maerys' face washed blank with confusion; it was as if her brain could not process the information gathered from her wide eyes quickly enough. For a fraction of a second, there was an inability to compute.
The warrior had stopped herself from running into the aurelian man but found the space between them to be sparse, her face just inches from his. For a fleeting breath in time, a heavy silence fell over them, a thick tension that made Maerys' cheeks heat with the saccharine touch of embarrassment.
He was a sepia prince, with flanks of bleached buttercup; golden, like the delicately sewn apparel of royals and the wealth they hold so dear to their heart. He was cloaked in a warm color and had Maerys been a shade more vibrant, perhaps they could've looked like siblings.
And then she giggled.
Her snicker was a pebble skipping across a lustrous pool, producing ripples of mirth where there had been none. Beneath a heaven that promised glacial precipitation in the impending months and with arduous autumnal nights ahead, that childish eruption of joviality was a relief she hadn't previously known she needed, for in that noise was the minutest division of her psyche.
"You frightened me," she proclaimed once her titters had dissolved into quiet once more, shifting away from him to provide a more comfortable atmosphere for their conversation. Maerys knew the souls of her land well - after all, she had pledged to guard them - and promptly knew the stallion was not a resident here.
Maerys had always had a gift for dampening flames rather than kindling them while seeking explanations and the truth, this instance was no different. She'd always carried a sense of calm with her, but behind the face of a simple woman was the hardened mind of a soldier; she was cautious, wary, and steadfast. "What hast brought thee to this court?" The question was not accusatory and came off more curious than interrogatory. "I am Maerys, a solider of Delumine."
Her dark-tipped ears swiveled on her skull as she waited for the golden stranger's response.
I've been singing to the tune of / a worn down symphony,
She pauses before him, a needle’s breadth, with silver hair falling over her eyes. He sees the color rushing to her cheeks and can feel his own reddening with a burning heat. From past experiences-- and from Nashira telling him so-- he knows his blush turns his skin a freckly orange shade. It is not attractive.
There was a moment of pause as their eye-contact stretched out long between them. The spell was broken when she shifted in a giggle. All at once, Atlas jumped back, tripping over his own damn feet and sliding on the mossy cobblestones. A stream of apologies rolled from his mouth like bubbles from a bottle-- weak, each one unintelligible from the next. He ended up in some goofy position with his front legs crossed, half bent over, looking like a newborn fawn on a frozen pond.
Her laughter was like the lightest music, a child’s innocent plunking on a piano’s keys, and though he was certain he ended up looking a fool, Atlas felt warmed. And still she laughed, as he corrected his limbs and checked behind him to make sure no one else had seen his fool self. By the time her giggles had subsided, she herself had moved away.
“I apologize for the intrusion, and for startling you,” Atlas said, in a hurry, still flustered and feeling a bit bad. Though he was pretty sure he was the least intimidating figure in all the land. “I was preoccupied with my thoughts, it seems.” He paused to listen to her speak, ears perked forward. Her accent struck him as impeccably formal and he was reminded, for all the world, of speaking to his mother.
“My name is Atlas,” he said, dipping his head, “and I have come to learn. I find Delumine to be the best place for it in all of Novus.” He tilted his head, worried for a moment that he had broken a rule, or crossed a line. “Am I… in trouble?” At once he was certain he was not speaking to his mother. With Sadrehsan, there was never a question of how hot the water was.
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