—(••÷ [ HANNAH DODD , CIS- FEMALE , SHE/HER ] in the darkness you arrive , it seems ELOWEN ATHLYAN has emerged from malriths embrace. the LADY OF THURIN KEEP, brings with them such passion in their wake and they are known for being COMPASSIONATE but also MOODY. the bloodmoon shines when the THIRTY year old joins the war. what songs would be sung in their name ? [ HEAVY IN YOUR ARMS + FLORENCE AND THE MACHINE ] for in the decades to come they will speak of : a crown of dried flowers, silken whispers and crescent moons pressed into palms. may your journey bring fruit , welcome to nocturnia forgotten one.
In the stars of Morkhul lays Thurnin keep. A lush expanse of fruitful land devotingly tended to by the family Athlyan. As stewards of the lands the Athlyans are the largest provider of food to the lands of Nocturnia as such they are not only respected for their wealth but for the knowledge that without them food scarcity would become an inevitable tragedy. Elowen always believed herself fortunate to have been born into this house as fate could not have blessed her more. Her childhood was on the surface one of charm and luxury. Growing in companionship with not only her beloved family but all those in their employ. As was the way of House Athlyan known for the shared respect extended to all who resided and worked in their home.
Elowen knew no other way than this and would pale at the reality that anyone would do things any differently. A young girl heavy with the deeply feeling heart Elowen learned from her mother’s example, knowing her word to be as resolute as any law she had ever come to know. It was in part of why Elowen never questioned her mothers choice to betroth her second born to the first born of house Solkarith in the far off mountains of Braxigar. At least never aloud. Elowen knew little of rebellion and instead clung to duty despite the nightmares it left her plagued with. A promise made mere months before her birth was in the end hers to keep or risk a wrath she didn’t want to tempt less she is willing to sacrifice her family for the illusion of choice.
Elowen is a staunch believer of fate. What is meant to be will be and with all the will in her heart she can only push it further to fruition. Knowing at an early age that her future was made for her Elowen has made efforts to guard her heart to keep the inevitable heart break to a minimum when the time should come for her to leave Morkhul for her home in the mountain of Braxigar. Rather than fight against it Elowen has done her best to embrace her future. The naive thought that the more she could learn of Braxigar the easier it would be to acclimate to the harsh mountains.
Yet, the more she learned the more she was filled with anxiety and dread. No part of living in the crimson forest under shade of bleeding trees quelled her fears of leaving her home. Further instigated by the rumors of blood and horror that shrouds her future inlaws have left Elowen with an unshakeable anxiety fueled by nightmares that do little but leave her shaken and inconsolable. It has been her greatest struggle to appear unphased by this duty. It is her burden to bare and bare it alone she must. Elowen is hard pressed to share her worries with others and doesn’t dare to question her mothers intentions. She must have a good reason for promising her daughter to the bloody mouths of house Solkarith.
Changing reality for day dreams Elowen copes in seclusion with an expansive imagination and an affinity for the smallest of living creatures. Some may whisper she is odd, preferring the company of an orchid mantis to that of almost any one else on Morkhul. It is not an uncommon occurrence to find Elowen talking to herself, scribbling in her journals or wandering alone under the light of a bright moon. She has crafted a rich world made up of small wanders, things she can hold in her hand and steal away with her when she must make good on her mothers promise.
With the thorn empty now and the fear of the end looming Elowen is more and more resigned to her role in the survival of Velkynar than ever before. Wars of undead, dragons that eat their riders and empty thrones all set a stage of a dwindling population. Elowen knows it takes more than a sovereign and births for a nation to survive. They need union, connection, and stronger bonds. She is unsure of why her mother made this deal but perhaps blending Morkhul, the land of shapeshifters and Braixgar the land of the mighty can bring forth a renewal of power to all of Velkynar. She clings to her hope as most days it feels like all she has left.
ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ᴅᴇᴛᴀɪʟꜱ
elowen keeps a journal written in code only she knows. in the pages she presses flowers, leaves and iridescent wings of insects that have passed on.
she twirls her hair or a silk ribbon she has on her always whenever feeling nervous or uncomfortable
an affinity for writing letters she doesn't intend to send.
elowen is incredibly soft spoken seldom speaking just above a whisper.
skinny dipping in cool lakes is a ritual she holds dear and every full moon she makes it a point to swim under the light of the moon
while there had been a smile gracing eliza's features, the first words that left elowen's face caused it to fall. for how could she forget the future that awaited elowen? the promise that had been made without her consent. one day soon, she would find herself in braxigar, married to someone she did not know, ripped away from everything she knew and loved. all for a deal that was made by her mother.
in an attempt to be positive, to have fun perhaps one last time together, eliza softly took the other girls wrist and tried to fill her with some kind of comfort and compassion. "well then we shall make it the best one yet. how can it not be, if we get to enjoy it together?"
she did not carry any ill will towards elowen. eliza has learned to forgive at a young age. and when the looming threat of death hung over you, you learned not to hold grudges. how painful and bleak would her days be, then? and if they are already numbered, it would be a disservice to the life she was living to do such. besides, she knew keeping up such a friendship was tiresome. eliza could only do so much, could only talk about so much of her own lived experience in letters. it would grow exhausting for elowen to continue their conversations. almost forcing her childhood friend to be trapped in amber.
as the conversation topic changed to that of the ball, the brunette smiled brightly once more. her blue eyes looked up and around at the decorations. "oh yes. how could i not? it is so wonderful. although my dearest brother continues to threaten lock me in our assigned quarters if any rouge or rake so much as makes eye contact with me. so that... i could do without." she laughed, hoping her friend would do the same. "you look beautiful by the way," and she meant it. elowen had always been such a beauty. "i suspect you may only see the dance floor for the remainder of the night." a moment of uncomfortable silence fell, and eliza felt the urge to break it. "and you? are you finding the ball enjoyable?"
A pang of something sharp and not unfamiliar stabbed bitterly at her chest. She had known the look of pity when she saw one. How many times? She'd lost count. All of Morkhul and the Gods know who else knew of her betrothal. It was hardly one celebrated, practically unheard of. Well, that was until her mother made the arrangement. Braxigar...it felt so far away that she could almost pretend it was make-believe. Almost waned thin, however. Her smile returned easily, singed with sadness, regret, even perhaps.
A part of Elowen wanted to spill her deepest feelings to Eliza, the part of her that still longed for her dearest friend, the part that time could not chip away at. Her smile turned slowly genuine. "I'd like that," she smiled, allowing Eliza to lead. "Almost like old times," she said before she could think better of it. Her heart squeezed, and, her hope hanging by a thread, she cast Eliza a softened expression of all these unsaid things. Things clamped down between teeth, ridged tongue.
Elowen laughed, her blue eyes rolling dramatically, "What is it with men wishing to lock young women away? There surely is no harm in a little innocent attention. If it's wanted, of course," She smiled softly, a slight air of teasing in her tone. Elowen's finger trailed over a stiched flower, the very likeness of the ones that grew wildly outside her bedroom window. Night-blooming Jasmine, fragrant and welcoming in the spring. For all her life, for as long as she could recall, each evening when she awoke the first thing she did was throw open her windows to let in the scent of the night-blooming flowers. "Thank you, my mother commissioned this dress for the event. A rush job, of course, considering all that has occurred. But I added the flowers myself. My favorites,"
Elowen looked mournfully at the dance floor. She'd yet to encounter her husband to be; maybe if she stayed otherwise engaged, she would be able to delay it a bit longer. "I find it...tedious," she answered honestly. Old habits of kinship are easy to slip into despite her best-laid efforts. "But lovely all the same...as some tedious things or sad things can become with the right perspective."
Seated, Naenia watched the crowd flit past her like butterflies, each one shaded a thousand vibrant colours, fluttering from flower to flower as they performed intrinsic pairing rituals. Even though a withered stalk cultivated in Braxigan soil provided no succour, she still yearned for someone to land close to her imposed domain—the berth the crowd had given her, merely because she reminded them of the unspoken.
Naenia would have to content herself with the luminous sights before her, and she did so beautifully. Deep sentiment rested upon her shoulders like delicate lacework, while she catalogued the smiles that blossomed and flourished like buds bursting with ambrosial aromas, intoxicating to behold.
Seeing others smile lightened her heavy heart.
Her own hair had been perfumed with oil of clary sage and lavender, sleek and silken, braided in a half-updo. Her robes were the iridescent colour of white agate, the hem and sleeves embroidered with vermillion designs as if they'd been dipped in blood. Naenia stroked the silk, self-soothing, as her maroon eyes lingered on one person in particular. She sent them a gentle smile and gestured to the spot beside her. They looked like they needed to rest their feet. Not wanting to pressure, she averted her gaze and took a sip from her drink, only to discover that the clear substance in her glas was not water
Elowen was an agreeable woman; she had been an amiable child. An infant who rarely cried or complained, her mother had once cooed. It was her shining trait, so often she was praised for her agreeable nature, while silently she was cursing her inability to say no. Just as she was now being spun around and around until her feet felt as if they would bleed rivers. Any request to dance sent her fluttering into the arms of her dance partner, fast, slow, dizzying and too long. She did enjoy dancing, usually alone rather than hand in sweaty palm of a partner who led with two left feet and enjoyed lifting her feet over stone floor and spinning her until she felt like she was falling.
Elowen was growing breathless, a sheen of exertion adding glow to her features. She was thankful for the gossamer and silk fabric that clung to her like rolling waves. A reprieve when no other seemed to be in sight. She laughed when she was meant to laugh, bowed her head and let music and elation lift her when she begun to tire. She needed a break, longed for an escape from her insistent partner who didn't seem to grow tired. Perhaps the wine invigorated them. Perhaps Elowen needed to eat. To refuel. Though she didn't dare inconvenience anyone. Let alone someone who was a guest in her home city.
However, the one gesture from the woman sitting like a creeping wallflower gave Elowen her reprieve. She excused herself gently, a soft smile and her head held high. Only until her partner had set their sights on another. Then and only then did Elowen sag into the chair next to her reprieve. Her shoulders sagged heavily, "They were incorrigible and you my savior," Elowen greeted, a smile tugging her full lips. "Are you not a fan of spirits?"
where. the grandhall, at the beginning of the crownwearers ball
who. eliza kelindorr & elowen athlyan @silvermoonhalo
the first week within moira castle has been overwhelming and exhausting, to say the least. so much so, that eliza had opted to stay within the quarters provided and rest up at least three days during that first week. she had not exerted that much energy in years, and she knew if she were to continue to be out and about, her body would not give her the choice to rest later within the week.
and she refused to miss the ball.
thankfully, when the ball came around, she was feeling well rested, and confident that she could handle being up until the early morning sun began to crest over the horizon.
when she entered the grandhall and looked around for one of her siblings, she was surprised to see a different familiar face. elowen athlyan was close by, and eliza was hit with childhood memories together. playing make believe out in the forest and swimming in a glimmering lake under the moon. the days spent together growing less frequent, until they stopped altogether when eliza got sick. letters sent every few days, until those eventually stopped as well.
the heartbreak she felt over growing distant with a childhood friend washed over her again. but she refused to let those emotions ruin her night. she would continue on, and act as if all was well.
approaching elowen, eliza smiled brightly at the girl she once called a best friend. "lady elowen, how thrilled i am to see you here." of course she would be here. "are you enjoying the ball thus far? its quite wonderful, i must say." eliza felt a sense of unease settled over her, the lack of constant contact has turned her once friend into a stranger. and that could be felt in this moment. "have you and your family been well? i heard many of the other guests had long journey's to the castle, and i must confess i am elated we live within morkhul and were not subjected to such efforts."
Not much in life felt like a guarantee; the phases of the moon shifting lighter than darker, darkest. So on and so forth, babes were born, and many grew, aged, and lived their lives in the very places they took their first breath. Elowen liked to count the indisputable facts, like the threads that connected her to the rest of the world, when she felt herself on the edge of blowing away in a strong breeze. These threads gave her the illusion of control over her life. She clung to them like an infants blanket when all other comforts of her life she had grown used to the idea that she must let them go.
Seeing Eliza, she was reminded that some she had to release sooner than others. Perhaps it was a cruelty she didn't want to face, more likely a selfishness protecting her lifelong grief, but letting go of Eliza when she did was necessary. Attachments were fleeting, and she could not take them with her when she would inevitably leave, and the fewer ties she kept, the better off she would be. The better off they would all be. Elowen was sure she had done the right thing, slowly decreasing her correspondence with her dearest darling friend. It felt like a natural way to go about it. Easier than facing the truth that she could not bear holding onto too much of home when it would not always be home. It was easier to follow through with all her expectations if she convinced herself there had been very little to keep her in Morkhul.
That had been her plan, she was steadfast dedicated to it. Easily enough. Unless she was confronted with all she stood to loose. Which as it happened was only every night the moon rose over crystalline lakes, every meal she shared with her loved ones. Every stroll with bare feet on moss blanketed grounds. Every step sending roots of herself deeper into soil she would one day peel herself away from. Let me stand her so long ivy grows over my bare feet; she had played the longing game long enough to balance her greedy heart with avoidance. Balm for her woes. At least until she saw Eliza's face; that was a thumb pressed into a tender bruise.
Elowen winced, curling her fingers into her palm. She had been an unkind friend to the woman. Elowen's throat bobbed with effort, crystal blue eyes raking across the ceiling, the walls, the floor, the curve of Eliza's face. Anywhere but her eyes. She nodded, her most actual thoughts dying like smoldered embers on her tongue. There was once a time when she would have spilled every thought without consideration for tact. Now it seemed too far gone. Elowen blinked hard, "It very well may be my last easy travel to any ball hosted here." She whispered distantly, her eyes voling slowly to her fingers folded over one another in front of her waist. "The family is buzzing about here and there. No doubt enjoying such a fine opportunity to meet with others."
Elowen lifted her eyes across Eliza's face, avoiding her eyes still. "It's so nice to see you well and about Eliza," She admitted with warmth. "Are you finding the ball enjoyable?"
something about returning to moira castle outside of doing council business feels nostalgic and foreign to the ruling lord garramoth . there's a sense of worry for the son he's tossed into the chaos of the council , but also a feeling of freedom the ruling lord hasn't felt since he was a boy . standing in the throneroom he looks at the empty seat , wondering which unfortunate soul will be placed on it next , only to walk with puppeteer strings attached to themselves . his arms are crossed over his chest , the motion of someone approaching stirs him ever so lightly . " and here i was hoping for some peace and quiet , who may i ask also wished to look upon an empty throne before it's new owner is chosen ? "
Plenty of things in her short thirty years had struck her as odd, liminal, and lovely. An empty throne seemed one of those things with the cutting edge of cold grief. She had intended to get a closer look to root out those private feelings and let them lie to rest at the feet of the barren throne. And if she should be unable to shake such feelings, then at least there may be some peace to be found. However, as she made her way into the throne room, all her plans turned to fruitless daydreams. "I've learned that the more you hope for something, the less likely it is to happen. However, you are in luck as I have no intentions of shattering your hopes." Elowen spoke in her lilting, quiet tones. Sapphire eyes cast a gaze on the empty throne. She shivered, clasping her hands together. "The same reason, I suppose I enjoy the sky on a new moon, a flower before it's bloomed, and a lake free of ripples. Half the edge of something. Or maybe it is more the uncanny air of its emptiness." Shrugging, she turned politely towards her companion, "Or I wished to pay my respects. And this seemed as good a place as any."
it is nice to hold her face up to the sky, for the air does not feel so heavy here. pale as the moon, mina kaelvorn’s famous beauty is withering upon dry lips, eyes darkened by shadows and her once glimmering hair which had shone like spun silver, hanging limply from the scalp which she tears at in her sleeplessness. perhaps her time in moira castle shall be enough to awaken the woman she had been mere months ago, though she feels so far away now. powerful and brave, her mind swift and sharp as the steel she learns to swing, for she knows now what is coming for them all.
her pale fingers are gloved, wringing mindlessly at one another as she watches the world come to life in the early morning. it is a comfort to watch them all as they are milling about, but only then does a face come into view, do lips move though the sound of the world around her slows its journey to her ears. her head tilts, silver strands tumbling over shoulders which have shrunk in her time away. she blinks slowly, once and then twice. “did you say something?” she asks, tongue darting out to lick at lips which were once pink, plump, a factor of her beauty. “it is strangely loud at this time of morning. everyone is so busy.”
An invitation was only such if it could be declined. Elowen knew better than to outlier herself, decline the request sent to each Hollow. She was slow to pack, unusually morose. She kept her tongue bitten and said not a word. Packed her most beloved treasures in her trunk and departed Thurin keep with a lingering gaze and a smooth stone from her foot path tucked into her pockets. A piece of Thurin keep always on her even as Moira castle was still blissfully within the confines of Morkhul. Perhaps she was being melodramatic in her worries. But with dragons consuming their riders, their crown wearer Elowen would argue there is plenty for her to worry for.
One problem at a time she had taken to exploring the spaces open to her, doing her best to discover as much as possible about her companions in this venture. Beyond twisted tongue rumors that did any favors to most. Unless they were wielding them for their own benefit. Dismissing all thoughts of gossip greeted a silver haired woman with soft tones, clasping her gloved hands together as she looked off to the moon. "I've been told I should speak up all my life," Elowen shrugged slim shoulders. "I was offering you a good evening. With this view it feels limitless." Elowen kept her attention to the heavens as she spoke. Elowen nodded in agreement, "I wonder how much gossip is being traded now in the coming moments before a new crown wearer is to be chosen."
