“I love the silent hour of night,
For blissful dreams may then arise,”
It has been too long since the bells have sung through the moonstone streets of Denocte. It has been longer still that that the night has not howled out sorrow, or rage, or some strange suffering of soot and smoke.
But tonight they are ringing beneath a sickle moon dotted with the bright shine of a distant planet (not unlike a drop of wayward ink left behind by a story-teller). The bonfires are still burning, as they always do in winter and summer, spring and fall. If it weren't for the bells peeling through the darkness, like laughter, the night would go on like any other. Dancers would dance. Shed-stars would speak stories that their cards and star-maps want to share. Onata would lunge and parry with smiles and their familiars would clash with tooth and claw. The night, as always, would be full of magic and possibility.
Tonight is different in not only by those chiming, chanting bells. Isra is waiting in the garden just before the castle steps. Around her moon-flowers are opening up their faces to the sickle moon. Fireflies are dancing between the stems and the petals until the ground is littered with constellations of flickering light hanging just over the gemstone pathways. The air is sweet with the smell of jasmine and thick with the smoke of the fires each time the winds shifts its direction towards the waiting queen.
Above her Fable is curled sleepily on a turret and the moonlight cools the summer brine from his scales. Below the bells he is humming and it sounds like the gentle crash of wave on a black-sand shoreline.
Isra waits, sway-backed and heavy with her children, for her court to join her in the night garden. And when they are all there she inhales just once and begins to speak in a voice heavy with all the smoke and mirror wonder of any good story-teller. “Tonight I am asking you for help. There is no longer the potential for war waiting at the edge of our home. Tonight is the first night in which we can start anew, and build Denocte into whatever it is we want it to be. Tonight is for possibilities.”. Isra pauses, and walks deeper into to the moon blooms and jasmine smoke. To her it feels wonderful to feel only magic, only love, and nothing of war and hunger. If only the feeling could on forever and a day longer than that.
“I ask any of you who would like to help bring about this new era for our home to step forward now. Tell me only what you would have Denocte and you become from this point on.” Moonlight catches on her horn to make strange shapes down the wide plane of her heavy sides. Isra waits, eyes bright with magic and some infinite love, for her city to start becoming everything that it has always wanted to become.
And she knows, when the castle behind her turns marble, glass, and gemstones of every color, that there is nothing her court by the mountains and the sea cannot be.
So this is going to be an IC audition of sorts for any of the ranks in Denocte. You don't have to have your character say IC which one(s) you would love to go for if you don't want to. I just need to know in the form below!
This thread will close for replies/application on September 10th, since I know that SWP is filling up some thread lists at the moment. After that date I will post one short IC reply with Isra to announce all the ranks and which characters will be filling them.
Ideally I would love the leadership team to work together without ranks OOC wise. We would push the direction of the court forward with events, plots, IC games, adopts etc. I do however, expect equal effort from the team, and please understand that if events in life change that the IC ranks will be adjusted and new members will be added to that team. I will hold myself to the same standards. I would love to give everyone interested a chance at IC leadership at some point, so ranks might rotate if there is a lot of interest (like a council).
In order to apply please have the following questions filled out at the bottom of your IC post (or you can message them to me if you would prefer)
-Which role(s) would you prefer to have for your character? Please rank your choices if there are more than one.
-If you are given a role how many posts can you comfortably commit to a month in the court boards on average, without feeling stressed out? (please note I don't expect 10 every month).
- Would you be willing to help with adopts, lore, plots, any court events?
-Do you have any events in mind that you would love to do?
i am the fire
i am burning brighter
roaring like a storm
The war is over and she hears bells.
Of all things, there are bells. They ring through her ears and she rises with such a fury, embers spark from underneath her hooves. What was the meaning of this? Although when she takes a step towards her window and looks out, she sees everyone walking off to gather at the garden. A meeting- that makes a little more sense.
Morrighan steps out and joins the crowd, wincing as the bells are much louder from outside. She hopes they'll stop soon before she gets a splitting headache. This meeting better be important if there's all this fuss.
When she arrives at the garden, she sees Isra before the castle steps. Not too long ago, it was her that fought against Raum and his basilisk along with a few others. Morrighan had so badly wanted to be there and finally draw some blood, but she had been needed here. After the fires in the market and the capture of Abel, anything was possible. They needed to have eyes everywhere and stay on their feet in case something happened again. She could still remember the smell of everything burning and seeing the bodies of those lost to the attack. At the least, she had been able to help capture someone responsible and then stay to defend Denocte in case Raum had more up his sleeve.
Now he was dead and yet she felt no relief.
Once everyone had arrived, Isra speaks. She talks about rebuilding and starting a new era. It seems like a wild concept, but not entirely a bad idea. So much had happened and they all needed to come together somehow. After feeling lost for so long and homesick, Morrighan finally came to terms with Denocte and the Night Court being her new home. She felt loyal to them as they had taken her in and most of them had proved themselves worthy of her respect. Her thoughts briefly drift to Isra at the steppe for their spar and seeing her return from the battle in Solterra.
Without hesitation, Morrighan steps forward and speaks first. "I'd like to be the Warden," she begins, her tone strong. "Because I don't trust anyone out there. Raum may be dead but his ideas aren't. Our peace could come to an end at any point and someone needs to be keeping a watchful eye." Her statement may seem like a challenge to Isra's announcement but she wanted others to think realistically. This was not her being paranoid, this was her wanting to be prepared. "I come from a family of skilled soldiers. I've seen war in my land- I lived through it. Not just anyone can manage this task but I believe I'm one fit for the job if you'll have me."
She had been looking around at the crowd, but by the end, her eyes rest on Isra. They trained together and Morrighan told her of her story, so hopefully that would be enough to prove herself. Of course, if anyone wanted to challenge her, she would be ready.
-Which role(s) would you prefer to have for your character? Please rank your choices if there are more than one.
Warden
-If you are given a role how many posts can you comfortably commit to a month in the court boards on average, without feeling stressed out? (please note I don't expect 10 every month).
Honestly whatever amount would be needed of me. I could probably manage 10 a month, maybe not a crazy amount more than that xD but I can definitely put aside the time to fulfill plot needs and I just want to get Morrighan more involved anyway. Other than work this is the only other thing I do (whoops I have no life but I love you guys)
- Would you be willing to help with adopts, lore, plots, any court events?
Of course!
-Do you have any events in mind that you would love to do?
I really love Halloween themes so something for that when the time comes would be cool. I don't have anything specific in mind at the moment but I'd love to collaborate! I did enjoy the prompts we did a couple seasons ago because it gave me some material to work with when I was low on ideas for starter posts. I'd be happy to help brainstorm more of those too.
-What would you like to see done in Denocte?
Oh I kind of mentioned this above but definitely more seasonal prompts!
-What would your character like to actually do IC?
I want her to be more involved somehow. She's got a lot of pent up anger that can come in handy in a fighting role. Unfortunately I couldn't put her into any actual battles for the war plot like I was initially hoping but conflict and fighting are her thing. I'm working hard to get her leveled up so her fire will be more powerful too. I see her finally accepting Denocte as her home and because of that, she feels very loyal and is willing to do whatever she needs to do to protect it. She's normally more solitary so she would enjoy patrolling the borders and isn't afraid to approach anyone that might be seen as trespassing or a nuisance. She could use more threads with some drama like that.
08-20-2019, 11:41 PM
Played by
Kat [PM] Posts: 146 — Threads: 25 Signos: 77
The bells are like nothing she has ever heard before. They are a chorus, rising and rising and rising over the streets. Antiope can’t tell if the bells are many or if that is the sound of them bouncing off the walls and echoing down the alleys. They are like a siren’s call, drawing equines out of their homes and shops and down the roads of the court. Guiding them to the citadel, where their queen waits for them at the front like a captain at the helm of their ship.
Antiope doesn’t need to ask her if she has killed the thing that needed to die.
She knows. By looking, she knows.
The girl in tiger striped skin rises like a wave of shadows and storms and froth to stand next to a girl of fire and ash. The sea of Antiope’s eyes wash upon everything. The curling blooms of moonlight, the smoke and bonfires, the swell of Isra’s belly—something inside Antiope swirls, like a riptide, dragging her down and down and down, and the lioness in her bones growls her pain—and she looks away. To the dragon on the spire breathing with the ocean and then Isra when she speaks, to the unicorn’s sea glass eyes.
Antiope wonders what Isra’s possibilities look like. She wonders what Isra sees in her dreams when she lays her head down at night. As the world shifts before her eyes—and she recognizes it, clear as the stars in the sky, as the queen’s magic; the same that dropped rubies into the snow beneath the roof of that ice castle so many months ago—Antiope cannot help but wonder if her possibilities are beyond their reach.
And yet, Isra’s words sit upon her chest like a weight, and the lioness in her bones lashes its tail uneasily. She is still restless, still searching. There is no part of her that has settled, that has become wan or calm. She seeks purpose, an outlet, a refuge. A sanctum. She may have left a broken, empty, ruined world behind her but it had once been filled with things of love.
Something in her wrenches, so deeply, that she grinds her teeth together against the cry on her tongue.
In the night, moonlit and star-speckled and fire flecked her eyes are like glowing pools but behind them are oceans of war and history that none of the equines here can begin to understand. There are worlds inside of her, distant galaxies and long washed blood stains that the memories of which can never be removed, but they have made her who she is. God-killer, once-mother, once-lover, ex-warrior, looking for something and someone and everything.
Theofos rests against her shoulder, a heavy, steady weight, and the woman of blazes beside her has spoken and Antiope lifts her head and her eyes are no longer pools but the promise of rain on a distant horizon. Cooling, darkening relief.
“I know not the ranks which the court uses, and I can lay claim to none of them. But, Isra,” Antiope takes a step forward, and in the firelight the blood at her throat and beneath her eyes is sharper, more feral. More beautiful. “I have the means and the decision-making to do what is necessary for the good of Denocte. At your word, I would do what you asked of me.” In her eyes, they speak of the night in that palace of ice. She does not think she needs to remind the queen of the things they had freed and what had become of it.
-Which role(s) would you prefer to have for your character? Please rank your choices if there are more than one.
This is me asking for Antiope to have a shot at Regent. Realistically, I know she really has no claim to the role right now, but I think she has a lot of promise and with some direction and grooming she could be a great balance between Isra and Moira.
-If you are given a role how many posts can you comfortably commit to a month in the court boards on average, without feeling stressed out?
Comfortably, with my activity and number of characters I know I could give at least 3 or 4 posts a month consistently, regardless of whether it's a good month or a bad month for me. In a good month, or if necessary for plots, I could of course do more.
-Would you be willing to help with adopts, lore, plots, any court events?
Yes of course! I love to brainstorm
-Do you have any events in mind that you would love to do?
I have some different old ideas for full moon based events that I would love to collaborate on reworking and reviving in order to suit the night court.
-What would you like to see done in Denocte?
I would love to see a bigger emphasis on Denocte's exotic side/nature, like via the markets and shops and supposed underground. Maybe with adopts or history or something?
-What would you character like to actually do IC?
Other than my goal to eventually find Antiope someone she can love again and give her a baby (girl really wants to be a momma she just won't admit to herself), I am mostly working toward finding a way for her to work towards something. She was made with a purpose, and now she doesn't have one anymore so she's incredibly lost, and it's sort of building up all this pent up energy and resentment and bad things inside her that she has no way to expend. She doesn't want to fight anymore, which is why she's not a warrior. She doesn't want to kill, she wants to do something new and different, but it's hard for her to let go of what she was literally made to do. Antiope needs guidance, she's looking for purpose and direction.
you and atlas are one and the same, my dear
cursed to hold a weight you can't bear
and still standing
not because you can
but because you have to
The magic of her old world was this:
The savagery of starving wolves in winter, turning the snow blood-red, avoiding death on the narrow edge of their fangs. Survival at the brink of death. Storms in November; the way the water rushed up to the very edge of the island cottages, and with it came the keening of monsters. The way a god would whisper in her ear as a young girl, we will disguise you as a boy, the burning of herbs and meat in the back of their small home, her father pleading with dead gods, forgotten gods, please. It was the magic of never being discovered and of the sea swallowing the horses when they fell. It was black cliffs and wind that, if you listened closely, would speak from the water-wrought caverns within the jagged rocks. It was a horse’s eye glinting in the waves before it became something else. It was gold dust in the streets, and searing flesh like acid. It was the rain when it came, first in a whisper, and then in a scream. It was the song of the sea.
There had been no singing bells or dragons, nor castles turned to crystal or monsters in desert cities that turned people to stone. There had only been the salt, the brine, the consistent inconsistency of the Khashran. There had been metal and fangs and a war that she thought must have been a little like magic, just a bit, just enough to make her feel alive.
Now, Boudika is in a world where there are dragons and singing bells, and a girl with magic that can transform the ugly into beautiful things. It fills her with a hope as delicate and uncertain as spring growth. The huntress, the dancer, walks the streets to answer the bells; she wanders down alleyways and listenings to the sighing sea in the distant; she thinks of a boy wearing striped skin, a boy she chased down through a blaze of traitorous flames; she thinks of what it feels like when she dances for a city she does not know how to become a part of.
She thinks of how her old world is a distant and faded thing. The smell of bonfires, however, is pungent; so real she can touch it, if she wants. So real she knows where to find the source. Boudika inhales deeply, a breath that contained many different weights—and when she releases it, she imagines them forgotten. Dropped. Discarded in the street. She walks, step-by-step, toward the chiming bells. She follows the glittering moonstone path, toward a garden alight with fireflies.
The sound of the dragon's hum is everything Boudika has ever known. It is the ocean, and sand, and a magic without a name. She looks at him tenderly; curiously; and then back to Isra, with her heavy burden of life. And Boudika wonders what it would be like to wear that. She wonders if the mare is afraid of men like Raum or the striped boy, setting things aflame again. She wonders what Denocte can become.
She wonders what it must feel like to love this country as much as she loved her old one.
“Tonight I am asking you for help. There is no longer the potential for war waiting at the edge of our home. Tonight is the first night in which we can start anew, and build Denocte into whatever it is we want it to be. Tonight is for possibilities.”
Boudika’s mind is alight with a city near the sea. Her mind is alight with magic and smoke and flickering lanterns. Her dreams are full of teeth, but her heart yearns and yearns and yearns to break free. She sees the infinite other in Isra’s eyes, the answer to the question that has been splitting her apart since her arrival.
Why did I love them so much,
her heart beats.
When they did not love me?
Her mouth is dry. And in her is a tigress. In her is the memory of every beautiful thing she had ever ruined, for love of something else. In her is the treacherous snake of self deprecation, tightening and tightening around her lungs, around her garnet eyes. She feels the burn of tears and the dryness in her throat of fear. But in her, also, is Orestes’ song; Orestes sea-deep eyes; Orestes words, when he whispered, it is your nature. It is Orestes promising, you are not meant to die here and it is the feeling of waking up on the baking sand of Solterra only to find her way here, all the way here.
To this moment. To the beating of her heart. To the love of Isra’s eyes.
And she sees something she had always wanted and could never defend. She sees the opportunity welling before her, the chance; to speak, to be, to become.
“I am only a dancer.” Her voice is a whisper, after the confident addresses of Antiope and Morrighan. She clears her throat, stepping forward, forward, forward, from the back of the crowd. In her mind, the bells continue to chime. In her mind, Fable’s hum gives her unfound courage. She lifts her head, and she is breaking like the waves against a cliff; she is breaking everything she has ever been or known; because she wants this infinitely more, the thing in front of her, uncertain and fragile, a fawn on new legs. The future.
“But I would have Denocte become what I see in your eyes.” The castle is now nothing but gems and crystal. The stars are bright, feverish above. The unicorn is a mystery to Boudika; a beautiful mystery; but she has never trusted anything as much as she has trusted the look in Isra’s eyes. “I would have it become a city by the sea that cannot be conquered by evil men. I would have it become a haven for those who, like Caligo, feel as though they do not belong. I would have it be a city of magic, and peace, and good. I don’t know what I can offer, besides the same passion you feel. I don’t know what I can offer, besides a need to do good for other people.”To undo the bad I have done. But Boudika does not say that.
She takes one more hesitant step forward. Now, her voice is more confident. Now, she remembers the general’s daughter she had once been. “I believe strongly in peace, until the only way to secure it is through violence. I believe in love before hate—I have seen, over and over again, how hate ends. I was raised to lead in wartime, but I will become whatever you need of me. I would become your Champion, your Warden, your Regent.” That is all Boudika has to say. She nods her head, respectfully--nearly bashfully--and takes a step back into the crowd. Her heart is beating furiously, wildly, but she thinks of how badly she wants to become more than what she had always been. She thinks of how badly she wants to share in such a fierce love for such a beautiful place, and she can think of no better way to do it than to devote herself utterly. To say:
-Which role(s) would you prefer to have for your character? Please rank your choices if there are more than one.
Any of the Champions, but preferably Warden or Regent!
-If you are given a role how many posts can you comfortably commit to a month in the court boards on average, without feeling stressed out?
Easily 8, but anywhere between 8 and 13 probably? Sorry those are such random numbers.
- Would you be willing to help with adopts, lore, plots, any court events?
Of course!
-Do you have any events in mind that you would love to do?
-What would you like to see done in Denocte?
I would love to help contribute to some sub-plot ideas, maybe more emphasis on the Night Court being a kind of "Night oriented" city? An emphasis on seasonal festivals. Mostly, I'd love to come up with some kind of adoptable lore that has a strong influence/emphasis on the Night Court, and potential competitions that take place within the city? Definitely artistic-based ones, like... maybe character poetry reading or something along those lines. Another idea is a "magic school" for characters that may have trouble with their powers, that they could possibly get EXP from or at least some neat IC stuff/writing prompts/stuff like that! Also, Denocte has always been really well known for orphans, and after the war with Raum I would love to see some kind of support system--perhaps even extending into IC interaction with the Day Court--for that if there were any characters actually affected by that, or even just within Denocte. Just a lot of random ideas that could potentially be developed!
-What would you character like to actually do IC?
... just a lot of interaction? I'd love for her to be a super involved, slightly awkward whatever she is. Through this I would love for her to get some personal development and grow as a character. I'd like for her to become very involved with the different types of people of the Night Court, and develop a really intense love/passion/defense for them. I could also see her doing quite a bit of travelling for the Night Court on diplomatic or whatever types of things.
Kassandra's life was just beginning to settle down into some semblances of calm. Two long years of wandering, and for all her avoiding and ignoring, she found herself drifting in closer and closer orbits to home.
The streets of Denocte's Night Court were white stone, just like the rounded walls of her Folly Tower. Where her prison had been smooth and pristine, however, Denocte was rough and angular; there were corners and bends with mysteries beyond them, puzzles which she desired to solve, adventures which needed having, and discoveries just begging to be made.
She felt at home here. The people were friendly, if tired, and every now and again she would see another with stars painted on their pelts, reminding her she was not alone in this chaotic world. It was strange how they would look at her and their expressions would change, and puzzle, as though they were searching her face for some familiarity, someone they knew. But it was impossible-- resemblances aside, she was from a kingdom far away from here.
It is to be another comfortable but exciting night of wandering under the summer sky. Kassandra was a winter creature, but the smell of bonfires on the breeze and the laughter and overlapping conversations of the others out in the warmth of the night was enough to endear her to the summer season. She spoke to no one in particular, nodded and smiled at those who stared, and, like she did out in the wild, wandered; she thrived in living, breathing, the freedom, and taking it all in stride.
Then the bells began to toll. The first peal stopped her in her tracks; the second caused panic to well up inside of her. Was there an attack? Some other danger? Oculos ducked his lithe form underneath her, his long snout peeking out from beneath her strong, barrel-shaped chest.
After a few moments of the noise, no one else had startled beyond initial surprise, and Kassandra's fear was overcome by a terrible curiosity, an itch that was dying to be scratched. The crowd begins to move, towards the grand castle where Isra cares for them all, and Kassandra follows-- even pushes ahead, apologizing hastily for jostling some other forms to the side in her quest to see what all the hubbub is about.
She is shocked to find Isra standing in the garden, beautiful and serene and... there, wow right in front of her. Kass swallows hard. She'd met Isra once, shortly after coming to Novus; it had been a brief meeting, and Kass always felt like Isra knew something about her that she did not. Of course, Isra probably knew a lot more about everything than Kass did.
The Sovereign began to speak, and Kassandra listened with bated breath; her eyes were wide and her ears tipped forward as she swayed in the heavy night, carried by smoke and the beauty of her surroundings, deep into the moment.
When Isra finished, Kass went to move forward, but hesitated; this would mean declaring Denocte home. She swallowed, the force of the argument in her head causing her chest to heave and her heart to squeeze. What if she offered to help and brought only tragedy? What if her curse destroyed Denocte as it had Furae?
What if she failed?
Oculos, sensing her inner tumult, papped her gently with his snout. She looked down and the two of them locked their gaze and in his deep brown eyes she saw reflected the stars and the thin moon; she remembered all the times he would return to her Folly Tower with tales of the outside world, and she would dream of one day being free to adventure with him.
He did not move, but she felt his approval well up inside of her; it was an uncharacteristically serious and responsible emotion for him. It was enough to convince her of what she had to do.
She stepped forward-- perhaps a little more forcibly than she needed to, with a straight-legged step and her chest pridefully thrust into the air. She opened her mouth to speak-- then, remembering her graces, dipped into a quick curtsy-- before addressing the Sovereign: "Please, my lady, allow me to help," she began, her mind a bit of a churning mess-- how to offer her assistance without sounding like a pathetic boot-licker? "I know I am nobody-- not royal, nor descended from any rulers," not in Novus, anyhow, " but Denocte has become my home; I would like to show my gratitude to you and all of its people. I am educated, practiced in the virtues of etiquette, and will do whatever it takes-- go wherever it takes. "
Her uncle Syroc had been a fool-- a power-crazed, mad fool. Isra was nothing like him. None of these people were anything like him. "My last home was destroyed by the folly of powerful men; I would like to help you build a gentle, strong kingdom, to protect those who need it, and which people are proud to call home."
kassandra
-Which role(s) would you prefer to have for your character? Please rank your choices if there are more than one.
I'm hoping to have Kass take the role as Emissary! She's trained in etiquette, loves talking to people and learning, and desperately wants to travel the world. She's also nice and gentle and people tend to like her.
-If you are given a role how many posts can you comfortably commit to a month in the court boards on average, without feeling stressed out?
As many as there need to be! I'm currently averaging about 10 a month split between my two characters, but I'm definitely capable of doing more.
- Would you be willing to help with adopts, lore, plots, any court events?
Yes, PLEASE, I would love to!
-Do you have any events in mind that you would love to do?
Not off the top of my head, no, but then again I didn't think about taking a position until today, so x3
-What would you like to see done in Denocte?
Kass would want to do things that make people happy and care for those who may need it, so public works projects, and festivals, and the like. She would also like to spread Denoctian culture in, like, exchanges with other Courts.
-What would your character like to actually do IC?
I would like her to travel and meet people, and learn about the world; I would like her to make friends and be useful in Denoctian society and help keep peace in the Courts. I also want her to do things like, sit on councils, and do peaceful debates about things, and grow as a character by learning.
“And at night, when the whole world belongs to them,”
There is a fire blooming in her soul, an ache, a root of molten golden sinking deeper than bone and marrow. Each of them brings a petal falling feather-light and gentle across the flame. And when Fable stops humming of the sea, when the bells stop ringing, the air feels bloated with potential. Isra breathes it in like ink, and paper, and old worn leather. This is what stories are made of-- women meeting in a moonlight garden with fireflies hanging down their hair like diamonds and life blazing a vicious brightness in their eyes.
Isra steps to meet each of them and her smile becomes an almost-fierce, almost-motherly, almost-godly slash of white across her black, black lips. At first she isn't sure what to say before all their passion and dedication. She thinks maybe a queen would only look at them with a regal, elegant dip of her head and dole out tasks like rewards. But she doesn't want to be just a queen, or just a mother.
She wants to be feral and as dirt stained as all the root reaching out beneath their hooves. She wants to be a dragon sipping at cloud-wine. She wants to be ink, and paper, and things that burn for every reason in the world.
Isra wants to be everything, and to be a queen feels like just a thing. So she lets them all speak and she lets their words toss kindling to the fire (and roots, and twins, and the last of her war-drum heart). And when they are done she moves between them to brush her shoulder against each of them. This reminds her of home, of the tribe of mares all looking at evil from behind silk (and chain) and promising that someday they will devour it all up like the sea devours the shore. For each of them she has private words, because this is is future of their home. Denocte is not made for proclamations.
Denocte is made for love, and family, and passion. Denocte is made for changing the world.
First she walks towards Kassandra, with her youthful passion and determination. Something in it makes Isra's heart ache to remember how alike and different they all are. “Ever since I came to Denocte I have heard of horses who are touched by the stars and fate. I have ever believed in the moon and how it's silver and innocence that can truly see the truth of the world. Sometimes it feels like I will never be innocent again and I must be reminded how. Kassandra, I name you Champion of Wisdom.” She pauses to look fondly at the hound beside her. Before she moves on she brushes a gentle touch to the mare's cheek, a promise that later she'll need to be reminded over and over again that there is no war to fight.
When she approaches Boudika, and blinks, it's with the lingering image of a broken, wicked, lost boy leaning hopelessly against a broken table. Isra can taste soot on her tongue and feel the glare of a flame pressing bright and hot against the backs of her eyes. It does not fill her with sorrow, only fierceness. Isra hopes Boudkia will understand the way her eyes spark and smolder with unsaid promises when she looks at her. “You are a dancer as much as I am a queen. To us it's no more than a title, a thing we might try to hide between because it's easier than facing the rest of ourselves when the day comes looking. But it will take someone who is just a dancer to pull this city of orphans, criminals, stars and dreams together. It will take you, the Champion of Community.” She does not smile, or do anything more than brush their sides together like wolves passing in the tall-trees when she walks onward.
Morrighan finally brings a bright smile to her face and a soft laugh to her lips. There is always something in the warrior's brashness that makes her feel like everything is going to work out. Maybe it's the way the mare worries so much more than she does (a feat, although when you have a dragon and deadly, wonderful magic what is there to fear? Certainly not evil men or war). “You will be a wonderful Warden. There is no one more ready to protect this place than you.” Isra almost adds, even when it makes you mad. Instead she only pauses and tries so very hard not to look at the mare as if they are sisters (in war, in fierceness, in everything that burns). “Between you and our Champion of Battle there is nothing that will surprise us again. Perhaps another spar to celebrate when the twins are born?” She pauses only long enough to heart Morrighan's answer before moving on to the last mare with fire and enough, enough, enough in her eyes.
“Antiope.” The name on her tongue is not broken, or fat with sorrow, or full of anything but predator footfalls in the jungle. It's quiet and silent like a promise of everything that is going to die beneath the weight of them. On his turret Fable lifts his head, awake with the new weight in the air. A bell rings a low, tolling sound (like a warning perhaps). “I hope you will do what you believe in, even if it's not what I asked of you. I trust you do remind me that not everything needs a war, a queen or a dragon.” The moonstone around them becomes marble made of ice and wood. It shines in the lamplight and the silver moonlight. It shines like potential, like wonder, like fierceness between two hearts. “I would have you lay claim to the title of Regent.” Isra brushes their cheek together before turning back to her castle made of glass, and gemstone, and dream-stuff.
At the top of the stairs she pauses and looks back at the new leaders of the future waiting in the moonlight garden with pearls of fireflies hanging in their hair. “Follow me, and the future will be brighter than any full moon.” Isra disappears into the dark doorway and Fable roars something that sounds like hurry.
Isra and the future is waiting; there is work to be done.
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