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Please only post if your name is in the title, thanks :) |
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res for worldbuilding/lore |
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Silver eyes roamed over the view of the horizon that reigned over the distant kingdom capital. There was an awning of a fiery tangerine in the sky, spotlighting the world below in a sunset blaze. As the sun sunk lower, and lower beyond what his vision provided him, Evander couldn’t help but feel a twinge of melancholy rise in his chest. The prince adorned the swell of darkness that was soon to blanket the land, but it disheartened him to see the sun plunge itself into that darkness. The only thing that remedies that somberness was the knowing of the sun’s rebirth upon morning. The sun was destined to fall, just as much as it was destined to rise. Just as he surely was - a prince biding his time until he could rise above the dark. Just as any visual trace of the sun abandoned his sight, and the color in the sky began to dim before his eyes, Ev found himself rising from his place on the manor’s front stone steps. It felt more convenient to seek his desired quiet time outside of the manor, particularly to find solitude. Not because he wished to free himself of the people he now surrounded himself with - Evander cared perhaps a little too deeply about each of his Wolves - but more so for his Empath’s sake. Ev knew he felt things very strongly, and some things he wished not to feel at all, but he was quite intent on not burdening the youngest member of experiencing every emotion that raged within him. Sometimes he did wonder though - did Ember feel the essence of revenge that gripped Ev so tightly it foxed his almost every thought? Perhaps his almost every action? Evander yearned to reclaim what was his, most certainly. But he craved to seek vengeance for every other of his kind that have faced immense hardship and unbearable losses. For those unable or too afraid to seek out their own vengeance - Evander was their patron. A part of Ev was far too lost to this quest to admit that what he wished to do was nearly no better then what his own sister was doing… but fighting fire with fire seemed appropriate to Ev in this war. The prince strode back through the broad, heavy gateway that was the manor’s entrance. The doors shut behind him, his gaze briefly sweeping the immediate interior. For those Evander found trustworthy enough to at least invite to be here, he was sure it felt like some kind of sanctuary from the world that stirred beyond the manor. But to Ev? It was a constant reminder of why he strived so fiercely to restore the kingdom’s stability. No one truly innocent should feel the need to seek sanctuary from their own kingdom out of fear of execution, certainly none of his own Wolves. Where most would have been shocked at the sudden temperature spike that Evander currently felt in the room, his eyes simply traveled the room until his gaze tethered to Leko. “Experimenting?” Evander asked coolly, the sensation lifting from him as Leko drew out a sharp sigh. “Something like that.” The blond uttered in mild disappointment, or perhaps it was frustration. Ev couldn’t quite tell. “Progress is still progress, you know; no matter how minuscule.” Evander stated in reserved encouragement, the sound of his steps echoing as he began to chart his course towards a section of the manner where he usually liked to plan out his next course of action for the rebellion. “Fetch the others for me, will you? I’d like us all to be well versed for the plan tomorrow night.” Evander stated, though not in a firmly demanding tone. Nothing from Evander hardly sounded demanding or harshly firm, just calm. Steady. It was nothing Ev had to put much effort into though, it was simply his nature. “Plotting?” Leko asked, a mischievous grin dancing its way onto his features. Evander offered a flicker of what could have been a thin smile as he replied. “Something like that.” His eyes had only followed Leko’s figure move up the staircase to the manor’s second floor in search of his fellow Wolves for a few brief seconds before he pursued walking in the direction he had originally set his sights on. It was no fancy space, that was for certain. Unless one considered this moderately sized room’s few chairs, the larger oak table in the center, and the various maps and papers astray on said table a marvel-worthy sight. But it was most definitely a place for plotting, more so that being Leko’s word for it versus Evander’s. Regardless, he supposed he was in fact conspiring to ruin the Queen’s spring festival. Tonight was merely the eve of the event that truly would only draw in the higher classes to flock to the capitol city. But tomorrow night? Ev knew his sister - regardless of the risk, she would make the nights celebratorious display something to fawn over and admire. If she was following in the footsteps of their father - fireworks would be launched from the kingdom’s fleet of ships from the lake that connected to the distant sea. That would be Evander’s primary angle; using the Queen’s showy taste against her. |
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Darkseeker
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The sun was sinking slowly behind the thatched roofs of the homes in this part of the kingdom, illuminating them in a way that made it look as though the entire sector was engulfed in a roaring wildfire. The brilliant blood orange light radiating from the sunset cast long shadows down the crooked stone alleys, hiding whatever might be lurking in them from plain sight. From one of the alleys came an odd rushing sound, like a distant river flowing, for just a split second. If any passerby had stopped to peer closely enough into the narrow alleyway, their eyes might have drifted to shadows decorating the rough-hewn stone walls - and the source of the sound. Blending in amongst the shadows was a patch of darkness markedly different from its surroundings. It acted almost as a void, sucking the nearby light into it and plunging most of the alley into near-total darkness. Even in the dim light, it was obvious that the spot was noticably darker than the shadows around it, a shade of black so deep it seemed unnatural. But if the passerby had taken a step closer to investigate, it would have been gone in a flash. It seemed to jump from shadow to shadow in the maze of alleys through the city, never pausing for long. The stone walls it passed over grew cold at its proximity despite the warmth from the last bit of sun in the sky. The shadow came to a halt in an alley cut short by a wall of stones that looked as if they'd been hapzardly piled on top of each other. Against the wall lay a man. His mouth was open in shock, and his hand was clamped over a wound in his side oozing blood, but it was obvious from the blankness in his gaze that he was dead. Before him crouched a second man, wiping streaks of blood from a short knife with a filthy handkerchief. His clothes and hands were splattered with blood as well, and a trail of fat droplets of it led from the corpse against the wall to him. The shadow in the dim corner of the alley appeared to twitch, and a man stepped out from where it had been a few seconds prior. "Thomasin". The killer lurched to his feet, his still-bloody knife thrust out in front of him. He stared at the man in the shadows with panic in his eyes for a moment, then hesitantly relaxed and lowered his weapon. "Dante". He slid the knife slowly into a leather sheath against his thigh. "You should save the whole invisibility thing for the people you're actually trying to kill". Dante didn't answer, instead nodding at the corpse slumped against the rock wall. "Why?" Thomasin shrugged. "Client didn't say." He stole a glance at Dante out of the corner of his eye. "We've been getting more and more of those, you know. Somebody wants somebody else dead and won't say why". He dug the toe of his boot into the rocky dust beneath their feet. "Makes me a little uneasy when I come for them. Like maybe I'm doing it for no reason." Dante frowned. "People are putting hits out on Others. They assume that they have abilities and that they're dangerous". He caught the pitying look Thomasin was shooting him. "Don't". "Levy misses you", Thomasin told him, changing the subject as deftly as possible. "She was complaining the other day about how she'll never find a mercenary half as good as you." Dante ignored him again. "I need a favor." "Anything."
Dante handed him the folded slip of parchment from his pocket. A few silent beats passed as Thomasin read the note, his eyes growing wider with each word. "Absolutely not."
"Give it to Levy", Dante answered with a shrug. "She'll find someone." "None of us are volunteering to get arrested. I can tell you that right now and save you some time and effort. They hang mercenaries. We wouldn't even get a trial." Thomasin rolled the paper between his fingers anxiously. "Just give it to her", Dante snapped, and the other man shrunk away from him. Thomasin opened his mouth to object, but Dante was already stalking back to the shadows. "Dante, wh-", he began, but the other man had already disappeared into the dark. The sun had set completely by the time Dante reemerged in the alley next to the manor. There was to be some sort of meeting tonight about the upcoming spring festival. Dante assumed there was a plan to sabotage the Queen's festivities, but he needed to know the details before he paid another visit to the palace. He couldn't afford to give information that could be baseless or even wrong. He squared his shoulders and pushed the door open. The foyer was dark; no one had bothered to light any candles. Dante could hear footsteps and voices echoing from the back of the house. He just barely stopped himself from slipping into the shadows and concealing himself; he didn't have any reason to hide here. Besides, it would just draw attention to him, and that was the last thing he needed. He made his way through the dim room and towards the voices of his fellow Wolves. |
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“Her Highness requests an audience with you in the throne room.” The lone knight stood just outside of the barracks; the blazing color above hardly an awe-worthy spectacle against the amber flames that were his eyes. A light breeze ruffled the blond’s locs, his eyes sweeping towards the servant in a gesture of acknowledgment. “I see.” Cassian replied coolly, though a trace of vexation lingered in his stare. In a single fell swoop, the servant offered a bow and turned to scamper onward to his next menial task. Boots in a hardly pristine condition beat down on the patterned floor that was the pathway to the throne room with haste. Passing beneath the grand archway that housed the doors to the room he was summoned to, a single push of his arms against the doors threw them open - albeit not dramatic enough to coax a chorus of gasps from anyone else potentially fluttering around the space. Clearly, the Queen had dismissed the guards that should have been stationed both outside of the doors, and within. Cass never enjoyed his completely private audiences with the Queen, and it seemed to be shaping up to be one of those. “Commander Iorwerth, what a pleasant surprise.” The Queen would lift her voice in a chirp, faux astonishment seeping into her tone. Queen Marie sat atop her marble pedestal; aegean blue textiles littering the chair to flaunt the royal’s opulence. The throne itself sat upon a platform that stretched from either side of the room. Providing enough room should she invite people to be seated beside her. The platform was high enough to warrant steps to ascend to the top, though not nearly enough to make the climb longer than a mere few seconds. Cassian took a step further into the room, providing the Queen with a forced buckle of his legs in an ode of respect to the royal before he straightened his posture once more. The Queen’s pleased laugh echoed off of the throne room’s walls following the act. “You summoned me?” The knight phrased as a question, though they both knew it was meant to be interpreted as a statement. “I did.” She spoke in vague acknowledgment, flicking her wrist as a gesture for Cassian to obey her demand to further step forward. Begrudgingly, the knight heeded Her Majesty’s request. “Good.” She barked sweetly, Cassian’s feet stopping mere inches from the platform that Marie directly sat looking over. Their eyes tethered in a tension that proved to be taut - yet neither recoiled from the stare. Marie fell further back into the throne, allowing her head to ever-so-slightly tip its way into her dainty hand. “You know I have graciously granted you the freedom to follow your whims per your pursuit of weeding out the Others, hm?” She mused near inquisitively. “Why, pray tell, should I allow you to use my festival as a pawn in your games? The rebel rousers of the kingdom are sure to damn the festivities of the night.” Her voice slipped in its composure, allowing Cass a glimpse into the fussier nature of Marie’s being. “You’re not intellectually dense enough to truly be unable to fathom what it is I’m doing, with all due respect, Your Highness.” Cassian’s tone was taut - treading carefully between the border of respect and degradation. “If I may ask, what is your angle by summoning me here? Fishing for answers you already fully have at your disposal?” A vile smirk corrupted her formerly curious expression, her head leaning further into her hand as she studied the knight before her. “Such a bold way to speak to your Queen,” she pointed out, “but very well.” The woman lifted her head high, threading her fingers thoughtfully through the tresses of her chocolate locs. “My brother was always rather fond of the spring festival - he personally oversaw the plans for most of the festivities for years. Do you know what he orchestrated every year, for the past six years?” She asked, Cassian subtly bobbing his head in silent response. “Yes, the ball-dancing in the piazza, followed by the fireworks show over the lake… and his speech to the people. Evander was always one to love hearing himself preach, you know? He’s just better at looking modest about it.” Marie couldn’t have hid the bitter resentment to her tone even if she had tried. “So you want to lure your brother out of hiding, based upon his yearly practice of giving a speech at the festival? Considering the other threats we face from Others, Your Highness, I don’t see the former Prince acting so rashly. We should be focusing our sights on the rebell-” “We?” She abruptly challenged, the brown coals that were her eyes illuminating with a sudden rage. Cass clenched his jaw in evident frustration as he watched the woman of power nimbly unfold herself from the chair and rise to stand above him from the platform - making a point to look down on him. “There is no we, Commander. There is me, and there is a speck of filth before me. Do not forget whose hand holds your leash, Cassian. You best be wise to reconsider your words when addressing me.” Marie’s tone was coldly jagged, cutting through whatever foundations of pride Cassian had left for himself. “I apologize, Your Highness,” he mumbled in shame, lowering his gaze to the floor. “You are excused, Commander Iorwerth,” she addressed him once more, reclaiming her seat atop her jeweled throne, “and Cassian?” She added, stopping his trek back towards the doors. “Don’t disappoint me.” She cooed sweetly, though the fire still lit in her eyes warned him of the severity to her words. For just a second he allowed a glimmer of the hatred he caged for himself, and all Others, find itself in his stare back at the Queen - before he relinquished his soul-piercing stare and exited to proceed back to the barracks. Some days he loathed Marie almost as much as he did himself, and yet she was merciful. Gracious to his circumstance. He owed her more than his life was worth. Repaying such a debt has proven to be rather difficult thus far though. All things considered. |
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Maude woke slowly, her eyelashes fluttering as her vision gradually adjusted to the soft sunlight flooding in through the window. She was stretched out blissfully on the small, rickety bed in her quarters, her head nestled into her pillow and her hands folded serenely over her stomach. Yawning, she sat up with a wince; her wrists and hands had already begun to bruise from the morning's intense sparring session. She had worked with several newly-installed, young knights who still had a long way to go before they would be fit to defend the kingdom. Luckily, a handful of them had been competent and naturally capable enough to spar with her, some landing nearly as many blows with their practice swords as she did with hers. Maude surveyed the room around her, still blinking sleep from her eyes. The knights' quarters were modest but homely; they each had their own small rooms located on the same floor of the palace. Each bedroom was outfitted with a small bed and a nightstand. It wasn't much, but it was at least somewhere to sleep and call home. The single window in each of the rooms also faced towards the sun during most of the duration of the day, which gave the smooth, usually chilly stone walls and floors a comforting warmth. Maude had shed her armor and boots and replaced them in their places on her armor stand, but she had remained in the basic brown tunic and trousers all knights wore under their armor rather than changing into more comfortable sleeping clothes. Her skin itched where the thick, scratchy fabric had dug into as she slept, and she regretted not taking the extra few moments to remove it along with her armor. Judging by the sunrays streaming in through her window, it was about mid-evening. Maude was on the night watch with several of her fellow knights this evening. She didn't exactly love keeping the late watch - she was getting too old to be staying up all night - but at least she'd caught a few hours of sleep beforehand. Maude crawled out from under her blankets and began to don her armor once again. The regalia was simple enough; a chainmail tunic with matching gloves, boot covers, and a helmet. The knights had more durable armor in case of an actual battle of some sort, but this was enough to keep those on watch safe from danger until they could alert the others. Maude left her helmet off for the time being; she wouldn't need it until she and the others went up to the parapets to keep an eye on the entrance to the palace. There would be another watch farther below them, spread out across the palace walls and roofs to supervise all angles of the grand building. The sun had sunk almost completely beyond the horizon by the time Maude left her room, helmet tucked against her elbow. As she strode down the echoing halls to her watch's rendezvous point, she caught a glimpse of Commander Iorweth turning the corner in front of her before disappearing. She wondered fleetingly why he seemed to be in such a hurry; perhaps he was on one of the other watches tonight. Maude gathered with the other members of her watch before a staircase leading to one of the palace's countless balconies. Though they were all knights of the basic degree, none of them possessing any special titles, some of the younger members deferred to Maude out of respect for her age and experience. She didn't particularly care whether they listened to her or not; she hadn't become a knight to boss around everybody else. Dusk was settling in as the watch climbed to the roof and split off into smaller groups. Maude found herself paired with one of the new recruits she'd sparred with earlier. She was young and evidently very physically fit, as Maude had learned firsthand, but she carried a certain kind of insecurity with her that Maude attributed to her inexperience. Maude would have comforted the recruit and assured her of her abilities, but the watch was prohibited from speaking amongst themselves tonight. Security around and in the palace had been drastically increased with the upcoming spring festival; Maude had heard rumors that the Queen was anticipating a stunt from the rebellion. She couldn't help but pity the Queen. While she rarely interacted with her face-to-face, Maude had heard from her fellow knights and those around the palace that the Queen had a fiery temper and a cruel streak a mile wide. Even so, the poor girl had lost her father and her brother in such a short amount of time. Maude knew that the topic of the rebellion was strictly avoided in the Queen's presence unless she broached the subject herself, and for that she was glad. Herself and many others within the palace still held a certain degree of respect for and loyalty to Prince Evander, even though he had made himself into his sister's worst enemy. If it came down to the two siblings fighting over the throne, she knew that those in the palace could never pick a side; they would simply serve whoever came out victorious. Maude found herself squinting out over the lake, the moonlight dancing over the water. In the past, the highlight of the spring festival had been the fireworks launched over the lake. She had no idea if that or any of the other traditions would be carried on this year; in the chaos of the poisoned rain and the rebellion, she had been shocked to hear that the Queen was still planning on hosting the event. Maude supposed it would be an effective way to show the kingdom that life was moving on and returning to normal, despite the horrors they'd faced over the past year. She felt the corners of her lips tugging downwards in a slight frown. She and Jessen had always watched the fireworks together on a hill opposing the ship they were fired from. Jessen had shown it to her, insisting every year that it was the best spot in the kingdom to watch from. Maude supposed that she would be on watch at the festival this year to help with the increased security. That was fine by her; it wasn't as though she would be watching the fireworks with Jessen this year. She frowned again and gave her head a minute shake, trying to rid her head of those thoughts and concentrate on the task at hand. |
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Winter 
Night 
