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NAVIGATION
𝐄𝐯𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐬 𝐄𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐧. — [ INTRO. ] [ CONNECTIONS. ] [ THREADS. ] [ INSPO. ]
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Hiran’s eyes widened in slight surprise, but only for a moment. He quickly took in Leyla’s features before his attention shifted to the cloaked men who stumbled closer, daringly leaving the safety of the alley walls that might have protected them. By rote, he analyzed their posture, inspecting the places where a weapon might be hidden. One disguised the outline of a blade in his boot, the other a knife in his sleeve. Smaller weapons, useful in close combat, but no true threat to him. Hiran moved, stepping in front of Leyla, his hand resting on the pommel of his sword. He said nothing, merely shaking his head, as if warning the men against choosing their own end. One of the two, clearly more intoxicated than the other, seemed eager to take the challenge, until his eyes landed on the house sigil embroidered on Hiran’s sleeve.
No men born of their lands would ever fail to recognize House Tripathi's emblem.
Without a word, the men quickly fled, tails between their legs. Hiran watched them leave, swallowing his disappointment. In his current state, he would have relished the feeling of their jaws breaking beneath his knuckles. He shook off the thought. A lady was present. “Are you all right?” Hiran said quietly, turning back toward Leyla. “They did not harm you, I trust?” Worry temporarily relieved his sorrow, that dark presence that had hounded him ever since… since… No. He could not. Hiran regarded her with somber contemplation, the courtesy he usually wore still present, yet thinned—hollow. “Where is your escort, Lady Altinsoy?” His voice turned to steel. “You should not be on your own.”
It had been a great comfort to see Hiran had been the one coming down the laneway. If there was one thing universally acknowledged within Heliophra, it was that one did not cross a member of House Tripathi. It would be to their detriment to cause a fight with the house of noble knights. They luckily had not mistaken the man when he’d stepped forward, a hand set on the pommel of his sword. Once it had registered who had stood before them, they had dropped whatever intentions they originally had and retreated swiftly from there. It was with amusement that she watched from the shelter of Hiran’s shadow as they ran, relief washing over her when they had been left alone. There would be no scrimmage, at least not for now.
As he turned to her, Leyla’s eyes shown with gratitude, nodding at his question. “ Yes, of course I am. How fortuitous that it was you coming this way, my lord. I believe it all turned out for the better because of your presence. But, no, they did not harm me. They barely noticed me before you appeared. I’m not entirely sure their intentions were foul, but one cannot be too careful. ” It would be like her to not assume the worst of others. Her caution had her ready to defend herself if necessary, and seeking the help of another when they presented themselves, but Leyla could acknowledge a world in which the loiterers were not a real threat. At least, if they were inebriated enough they would not have been a terrible obstacle for her to overcome. Still, she was grateful to not have to have reacted in such a way. Her lovely dress would have likely been soiled, and how was she to present herself at the jewelers in that case?
She did not see the oddity in his demeanor, did not know to look for it. While she had been well acquainted with the youngest Tripathi before, she had not known the brothers as well. Leyla felt a certain camaraderie with those of her hollow, and felt it the same with him. But she could not see what was clearly bubbling under the surface within Hiran, more focused on being thankful for his presence overall. That was until he’d brought up an escort. Her brow furrowed. Surely he hadn’t meant her lady’s maid. He did not know Esma, but the thought of her being the escort in this situation amused Leyla greatly. If she were there, then the maid would be cowering behind Leyla as she either drew her own steel or talked her way out of the situation. But her amusement at the mental image died down with the tone and the suggestion she shouldn’t have been out on her own.
She scoffed lightly, but bit the inside of her cheek almost instantly after. He was unaware of how she could handle herself, but it didn’t stop her from being a little offended at the thought. “ An escort? I’m not a child… The previous situation aside, I’ve never had great issue walking the city on my own. I am appreciative of you and your concern, sir, but I think I am still capable of roaming by myself. ” She paused, “ Perhaps going down an alley was my biggest flaw, I shall remember not to repeat that the next time. ”
Cian blinks, startled into marble-like stillness, before life comes to him again. His words carry, soft yet loud enough still to be heard. “Forgive me—But you know that I am yet a fool, when it comes to finding my way. That said, I will argue I still found you, didn’t I?” He wraps an arm around hers and gives her a smile, half-grieved, half-indulgent. “Let us go quickly.” His eyes flicker towards the men. Piercing crimson, a dark blood-shade. He wonders if those outside of Braxigar still knew to fear them, and their stumbling back made him believe the answer was yes. “I saw a peculiar little stall on the way here, one that I most wanted you to see.”
He whisks her away, past the bumbling fools. A small sun on his arm, and a new book under the other. They do not rush nor run, but still they overcome those who had been watching. Moments after, Cian’s voice finds her in a whisper. “You could’ve rid yourself of them in a number of other ways. Still could.” It is not meant to encourage cruelty; if anything, there is a question in it. “You’ve a kindness for not doing so. Please, allow me to see you to safety, lady Altinsoy.” Cian tilts his head at her, almost as if a bow. “If only just until we find you proper company again.”
For a flash moment she worried that her supposed savior would turn out to be a bad actor. It wouldn’t do to get out of the situation if he could not make things believable. Luckily, he seemed to understand immediately and went along with her plan, and she had given him an appreciative smile in response. It had possibly helped that he had the blood red eyes of Braxigar. If the men were sober enough to understand what his eye color meant, then they would know to not press. And it seemed to have had the effect needed, at least Leyla had assumed so. She did not look back when they passed the two, choosing to play along until it seemed they were free of prying eyes. “ I shall forgive you your poor sense of direction when you show me this stall. I am sure it will make up for it. ”
It was only when enough space had been put between them and the two that Leyla released his arm, momentarily curious about the wares he carried. But before she could voice her curiosity, he was whispering to her about other ways she could have handled the situation. She pressed her lips together. Of course, she knew what was being suggested. And in truth, she would have done just that had he not shown up at the same time. It was as much preserving her image and secret, and a desire to not instantly maim the others which kept her from doing so. “ I doubt I would be so effective at those methods, ” she replied, laughter in her voice. She could fell a man, that much only she really knew, but he was right about another thing: her kindness would have likely prevented her from causing much harm.
“ I’ll see that as a compliment, and I would appreciate the escort, Lord Garramoth. Though, I promise to not take up very much of your time. I am sure you have much to still see, and plans of your own. ” It is in that moment that a realization dawned on her, only made after they had made their escape. Biting her lip, Leyla tried to decide how best to say what instantly came to her mind. Had she not been in familiar shoes herself so recently? “ I appreciate that you could, in an instant, be of such help. Especially when I am sure your thoughts are well occupied elsewhere. ” She allowed a small beat to pass before finally saying, “ I was sorry to hear of what happened to your family. ”
Ásta knows of nobility outside of Drakathar as they know of anything not scale-winged nor stringed: vaguely. Yet it is basic education to memorize the houses, and their wide and guileless eyes had learnt quickly in their travels the difference between a noble’s garment and a merchant’s dress. Royal, low-born, and those that would be deemed less: it was not difficult for Ásta to recognize in a glance where he belonged. A peer, and from Morkhul, if the eyes and the glance at his ears spoke true. Such knowledge brings no relief, but rather, a shift to Ásta’s feet.
“Ah, yes. It is a good night to… To play. And—compose?” Their eyes had flickered away in shyness, but now they flicker back at his frame. At the sight of the instrument in his graceful hands and the sound of his sweet short melody, their onyx eyes startle, then shine. “Your lute!” They take a step forward, before stopping and blushing. “Ah—forgive me, just.” A small, proper bow, followed by further stumbling. “Just—Is that perhaps one beyond a common lute? I’ve yet to see one of its like. The ones from my lands all look like… You know.” They raise their lyre slightly. Moonlight on blackthorn wood, amber bridge; beautifully carved yet paired with weathered paints. “Could I—” Please, let me not embarrass myself any further, but they cannot help the desire to ask. “May I see it?”
Curiosity paints his features, lines drawn in confusion over his brow. It is not normal he is unrecognized by others. Often the Heir of Elarion is the one who cannot place a name or a face. But the other velkynar seems to be unaware of him. He was struck between enjoying being an unknown versus frustration at not being instantly recognized. His vanity could barely survive such a thing, but any offense is instantly replaced when they react to the lute within his hands. His reputation as a songbird was more known within his Hollow, or to the few that had spent an inordinate amount of time in Moira. Then the more rare travelers who spent a lot of time in Morkhul’s inns, where he was often singing to an enraptured crowd, if not playing cards or excessively drinking. It appeared they had not crossed paths in that capacity, and their instant fascination with his lute caused a wide grin to spread over his features.
“ Ah, well… I suppose it is not entirely common, ” Evandris conceded with a shrug, slipping the strap from his shoulder. He held the instrument forward, holding by the neck while his other hand supported the bowl. He held it delicately, with a tenderness that showed its importance. It had been a gift from his mother, commissioned from a great craftsman in Morkhul for when he turned twelve. “ Most have bowls made of spruce such as this, and necks of poplar. The fingerboard is rosewood. That is where the similarities in construction with most other lutes found in Morkhul ends. The mother of pearl inlay on the fingerboard is unique to my lute, as is the intricate pattern of the rosette, ” he motioned to the features as he spoke. A mother of pearl inlay set into the rosewood that looked almost like crawling ivy working its way up the dark surface of the neck’s fingerboard, and then the intricate detailed pattern carved into the face of the big round body of the lute from which the sound echoed. It looked like an ornate window peering into the body of the instrument, a pattern of cuts that left swirls of wood, almost like the outline of a stain glass window. Upon closer inspection, the pattern looked like a blooming daffodil within the window. “ Six courses, eleven strings, and my family’s crest is here on the pegbox, ” Evandris showed off the crest of the House of Elarion carved into the wood at the head of the instrument briefly before offering it for them to hold. “ Only if I may see yours, ” he said, his smile lopsided. He had not played a lyre before — the instruments he played were other stringed ones which resembled the lute closely, and the pan flute he’d picked up fairly recently.
setting: the grand hall of elaris keep, shortly after the arrival of the other houses featuring: leyla altinsoy, eliza kelindorr & aeliana elarion @moonvcils @wcnderingsovls
Bent over the balustrade, her aurelian eyes followed the line of carriages crawling up the steep road leading to the front gates of Elaris Keep, the corners of her lips pulling upwards as they approached. There was something in the air, static which shocked her with every movement. Trepidation mixed with excitement as their arrivals neared. The last few months had been full of hardship, and Elaris had been shrouded in mourning in the last one alone. But now they were congregating again, upon the marbled floors of her very own home, and Leyla could not deny the spark of excitement which ignited within. Partially because, after such a long wait, she was to be reunited with a pair from Morkhul whom she believed owned twin parts of her soul. After all they had been through recently, it was the hope of seeing Aeliana and Eliza again after such a long time apart that had kept Leyla in good spirits throughout the nights shuttered within Heliophra.
Pushing away from the railing, she turned and practically sprinted down the winding staircase that lead to the grand entrance just beyond the gate. The carriages were close, the others to soon arrive. And while her elders were the true faces of the family, she knew it was only right to be in the procession welcoming their guests in. Leyla knew her part, she knew it well, so well she could play it in her sleep. Looking as radiant as the bright star that shined during the daylight hours, Leyla found her place alongside her family, her head held high and a warm and welcoming grin gracing her lips. A smile that grew ten fold when the Houses of Moira and Minolith came by, covertly slipping them each a note to meet her in the Grand Hall when they were settled. And so when every expected guest flowed through and were shown their guest chambers, Leyla departed from her duty. Swiftly she recounted her steps back towards the Grand Hall, where the two faces she wanted most to see awaited her.
“ I pray my weary eyes do not deceive me. Could it be that the northern wind swept my most darling of friends away from their hollow to finally visit me in mine? ” Her voice, lilting with a tone of innocent jest, did not hold the heavy weight of grief as it had the last time they all met. She learned to compartmentalize her pain, and locked it away in a chest deep in the corner of her heart. Tonight was to be a good night, and Leyla was determined to see it so. They could at least have that, couldn’t they? A moment of lightheartedness between all that had happened and could possibly take place, small things to hold onto when the nights grew darker and tougher. Aeliana and Eliza’s presence alone seemed a promise that Leyla’s lonely and sorrowful nights were to come to an end. That she could hold onto.
Filled with such a tremendous amount of joy at seeing them, Leyla wasted no time in embracing her two dear friends. “ How was your journey? Well, I hope? ” She pulled back but had taken each of their hands into her grasp, leading them away from that public space. She was eager to show them her home, all the secret places she cherished in a lifetime spent within this marble palace. “ Come you two, we’ve a month’s time to make up for and I want the next hours filled with nothing more than your company. Regale me with all your misadventures while we’ve been forced apart, do not spare any detail. I want to feel as though I was there with you through it all. And I require the sauciest gossip you can deliver as recompense. ”
setting: the marketplace, just beyond elaris keep featuring: leyla altinsoy & open
It was not uncommon to see the marketplace so full of faces. It had always been bustling, with vendors lining the streets selling wares and trinkets unique to their hollow and sometimes from far beyond. Beneath colorful banners and pennants which flickered as an evening breeze rolled through, the market square was far more congested as new faces now flooded the area beside the usuals, and Heliophra answered in kind. Every tavern door was wide open, the smells of hearty meals drawing travel weary patrons to their dining halls. Inns boasted being at near capacity, other establishments moved their finest wares to be visible at windows or on stalls right outside their stoop. The marketplace had come alive with the momentous occasion that they had been given the honor to host.
But Leyla Altinsoy was not among the throng flocking to the marketplace. Walking swiftly up an uneven path sloping behind the buildings that lined the bustling avenue, she had taken to the laneways which ran parallel to the market instead. These paths were empty, less traversed alleys which still lead through the busier parts of town. They were perfect alternatives to getting around for those that knew how to navigate the labyrinthine side streets, and she was one such Heliophrian on a particular mission of sorts. In the midst of all that was happening she had commissioned new jewels, the artisan all too eager to design a set that was to be adorned on the youngest Altinsoy. She could have sent anyone to fetch them, but Leyla liked to see to such things personally. She wanted them to see her gratitude within a radiant smile that always took to her features when claiming a new piece. It suited her image at court, that of a beautiful girl who was more occupied with such simple things than the intricacies of politics. Let her elders play their games; Leyla would instead shine in ballrooms and grand halls, forever that little pretty thing to admire.
Such a task should have been fairly simple, but the large crowds made it impossible to navigate the marketplace quickly. So she took to the alternative routes, going against the protestations of her lady’s maid in the process. Esma was to go pick up her new gloves at the haberdashery while Leyla pressed onwards to the jewelers. Splitting up meant getting through their respective tasks quicker, after all. And besides — this particular path lead straight to the back door of a bakery Leyla had frequented since she was a child, taking her allowance to waste on simit and poğaça. Why not take the opportunity to find her way to their back door and indulge while she was at it? It was this thought that added a certain pep to her step as she traversed the path. But coming to a sharp turn, she was startled when she almost walked head first into two tall hooded figures loitering at the back door of a tavern. Their breaths held the reek of ale as they laughed at the near collision, a voice echoing through the alley when one spoke up. “ Well, well, what have we here? Not the typical alley cat we would expect to find. Where are you off too? Perhaps we can escort you? ”
Her nose wrinkled, Leyla lifting her chin haughtily in defiance even though they towered well above her. She reached for a dagger she luckily had thought to conceal within her cape but as she began to contemplate unsheathing it for her own protection, Leyla’s amber eyes caught another face coming down the laneway opposite them, and felt relief swell within at the familiar visage. “ Oh — there you are! ” she cried out, side stepping the two and rushing up the incline towards the velkynar approaching. She ignored the confusion on their face, flashing a look that said ‘do not ask questions’ before smiling and continuing, “ When you said we would meet up in an unorthodox place, this was hardly what I had imagined. Shall we go, then? ” She lowered her voice, barely nodding her head back as she added, “ Just play along until we are rid of them, hm? ”
open starter for : arun tripathi & open [ accepting 0 / 3 ] location : elaris keep , courtyard time : a day after arrival
the warm wind whip at his tanned cheeks . the smell of former home soothing something within the tripathi son . standing upon the defences of elaris keep , he gazes over the desert covered land . it felt weird being back in heliophra after all this time , to be back where all his roots are , where he first cried as a babe and first time he held a sword . his fingertips glide along the sandstone defences , letting his carnelian hues soak in the surroundings . did he miss being here ? did he want to be here instead of snow covered peaks and mountains in drakathar ? his mind is clouded by it all , uncertainty lacing within his mind . the rustle of approach comes close and the knight of nocturnia turns to see he is no longer alone . " seems i'm not the only one wishing to look upon the sands of heliophra . " gentle and soothing , like his very being his voice echoes .
Her cheeks were beginning to hurt from smiling so much. But as more and more faces flooded through Elaris Keep, and the accompanying city, Leyla had found herself stopping to greet as many as possible. Her home was the setting for the next gathering, the space where the velkynar had chosen to congregate for a pending announcement from the council. As a member of House Altinsoy, she wanted to ensure she was playing her part perfectly. She would be as gregarious and as poised as she was always expected to be, a good hostess in the eyes of her family and all those who gathered there. But it was exhausting, smiling and greeting so often, falling into small talk and pleasantries. Social events came with strict social codes, even when the event was just stumbling upon another noble in the bustling marketplace. Even the courtyard was another stage for another play, but she felt her body relax at the sight of a familiar face. House Tripathi was another great noble family of the hollow, and she had once been very close to its youngest member. Her smile warmed at the thought that the broken thread between her and Diay had been mending. It made it less awkward as she approached one of the other’s brothers. “ So it would seem, ” she matched the kindness of his tone and allowed her smile to sit more natural, crinkling her eyes with a genuine warmth. “ Though, I suspect it is with a different admiration we look upon it. Does it feel good, to be back in Heliophra, my lord? ” His duty had been in Drakathar, a place so different from here it felt like it belonged within fairy tale and not reality. Harsh and cold mountains, snow capped stone jutting through the sky, and the screeches of beast that could fell any velkynar in a heart beat. It must have been so different from their shared homeland.
open starter for ásta malaric — ( 0/5 ) location: a heliophran garden, dimly moonlit time: a cool portion of the night
Adept fingers looped in string, the other edge pulled taut—already thread through as if fine needle, a sailor’s knot used for kinder ends. Ásta restrings the lyre with the same affinity one commonly spares for walking, and with the same speed and fraughtness as one scared and running. The first one had snapped at the sharp chord of the news, and the many there-after on the rocky road to Heliophra, past the cobblestone, into the melting snow. In a rare moment of wisdom, they had shoved several spares into their traveling chest alongside a spare amber bridge, just in case.
This garden was meant to be secluded, as secluded as it could be when Heliophra had found itself with what Ásta could only assume was their people, thrice-fold. Music tended to calm their nerves, and had won them enough coin on their travels to afford more than a mat of hay (well, when such was available), yet oftentimes it felt as if all a jest, as if this was just a respite, mercifully granted to this stumbling fool. But Ásta would grab it, hang onto it gratefully, and sing when asked. And when unasked, would do so privately, regaining breath while losing it to song. And so when finally in position, they start to play. Clumsy at first, but tuning away the dissonance with each stumble, until soon it smooths as if velvet-cloth, sweet as custard.
A rustle, unknown if the tame winds or someone’s uneven steps. Their ears are too sharp from changes of the whistles of winds and of strings. The melody stops in its tracks as their head whips around. “Is—” Onyx eyes refocus, in worry and fright. “Who goes there?”
With his lute strapped upon his back, Evandris followed a path through manicured gardens. Heliophra was divine, the kind of place that begged to be immortalized upon canvas with paint, but he had wished to compose dulcet melodies in her honor. Music came to him, in blocks of notes, random pieces that he would fixate upon and need to compose down into full compositions. Since their arrival in the warm sands of Heliophra, he found himself humming unknown tunes, his subconscious already putting together music based on what he could see beyond his carriage window. When a free moment had presented itself to him, he had politely excused himself from the party he had surrounded himself with and instead stolen away into the darkness. He needed a quiet place to put music down to parchment, to see what he could make of the spark of inspiration that found its way to him.
As he meandered through the garden, pausing occasionally to observe flora he had not seen within the perimeter of his own home, he heard a sound. Unmistakable, the soft pull of strings. Pausing in step, he slowed even his beating heart to strain and listen for the notes. Another musician had found their way there it seemed, and after a moment of just listening, he followed a new trail, one where the music grew louder as he proceeded. Before he could happen upon them more naturally, announce his arrival in a gentler way, his foot had slipped on uneven ground, and Evandris nearly stumbled into bushes which rustled from the disruption. Stilling, he lifted his head to find the lone traveler with lyre in hand. He held up his hands defensively, palms outward as his lute swung over his shoulder.
“ Forgive me, ” he called out into the garden, taking more careful steps until he was free of the brambles. Entering into a clearing that was clearly meant for one to observe the majesty of the flora planted there, he kept a careful distance as he side stepped around, maneuvering to face the other more head on. With one hand seizing the neck of his lute, he wound until the instrument sat in front of him, against his chest, and smiled impishly at the other velkynar. “ It would appear we may have had a similar idea, ” Evandris remarked, fingers subtly grazing the strings of his own instrument. After a moment, he plucked out a similar melody to that which he followed to get there. He realized it was not a melody exactly, but the sounds accompanying a restringing of an instrument. Still, his smile hadn’t faded. “ I was looking for a quiet space to compose, and thought I heard some music. I did not mean to intrude. It is rare I get to spend time with another troubadour outside of ale rooms. I was curious. ”
setting: an inn in the town nearby elaris keep featuring: lorencio almara & open ( 1 / 3 )
their lives, it seemed, were no more than a joke to the council. they did not care who lived or died, so long as the seat of crownwearer did not grow cold for long. in fact, all pretense had fallen and no longer did they need to decide as a hollow who best represented them to choose amongst. no -- step right up, lords and ladies, for you too could die a meaningless death at the hands of a group of outdated velkynar who cared not for what who sat upon the throne, but rather what the person sitting on the throne could do for them.
and to bring them all to heliophra, no less. well, it was cause for celebration.
"a round on me for everyone!" lorencio shouted to the barkeep. the inn was more lively than usual with everyone who had come in from other hollows. it was a nicer establishment than the ones he himself liked to frequent in crowreach, but it was no matter. ale was ale. he held his half-drunken goblet high in the air as he offered a toast to anyone who would listen, for those in the running for crownwearer. "to those who will soon depart us!" as in - depart from the land of the living.
what? he never claimed to be a good with speeches.
with that said, he downed the other half skillfully, a sign of a man who had endured and even enjoyed spirits much stronger than these. he slammed it down against the wooden bar, and the barkeep made quick work of refilling his refreshment. lorencio turned his head and caught the gaze of someone who had been an onlooker of what some called his theatrics. he grinned lazily as he spoke, "are you here celebrating as well?"
Heliophra had been a favorite place to wander to outside of his own hollow, and Evandris decided he would not allow much to dim his demeanor when he was there. His father had decided long ago how the Elarions were to act in regards to the crownwearer — with a loyalty and reverence that Evandris felt only suited those he truly felt at ease with. And those were a few hand picked by the young lord himself, not candidates who were chosen by ruling lieges who scarcely knew the true natures of those they deemed worthy, or a motley crew who put their own names out there for some ill fated grab for glory. Regardless, House Elarion were the stalwart companions of a throne with an ever changing face. It hadn’t mattered who sat upon it, Aether swore allegiance to that individual and swore his family had just as staunch a devotion to them.
Evandris never quite enjoyed this farce.
He had been known for a small personal jest, of jovially greeting the crownwearer as cousin. Once as a child he tried to curry their favor with dulcet singing and his cherubic charms, of wanting them to be just as much of his family as the rest of House Elarion. Now as an adult, he just endured their presence until they met an untimely death and the whole process happened again. Until a new ‘cousin’ was crowned and paraded upon that gilded throne, and then met a gruesome demise. And then the process would commence again. Cousin after cousin after cousin. What a wearisome cycle, one that felt ridiculous. For months now Moira had sat empty, and they were the sole stewards. The ruling family in their coveted castle, wielding a power that was not solely their’s. Even if the council, which House Elarion held a seat upon, pulled at the strings attached to the new unfortunate soul to find such a burden upon their head as the mantle of crownwearer, it did not change the fact that House Elarion’s keep belonged to another.
If he had given himself the proper time to think and reflect upon his melancholy, maybe he would have understood that the wanderlust that lead him to the warm hearth of taverns and inns across the land was a result of trying to seek some home for himself somewhere beyond Moira and the politics of court. But Evandris Elarion was never one for self reflection. If he saw himself beyond that shallow glimpse of his visage upon a mirror, then he would likely go crazy at his own insecurities being brought to light. Or how dreadfully unhappy his courtly life made him. Instead he could pretend that he found an endless peace and happiness at the bottom of a pint or between the sheets of another’s bed.
It was on such a thought that he had been at that particular inn, instead of in the chambers assigned to House Elarion, seeking a corner of this world to have just for himself for one splendid night. Before decisions were made, before the sodding parade continued. With his lute in hand, and the loveliest tenor heard throughout the hollows, he had corralled a drunken group in a winsome song, until their words were too slurred and they turned from melodies to poetry and inevitably to jests that would not suit the crowd he was normally rubbing elbows with. His mother would blanch at the foul innuendos escaping his lips then, which only spurned him on in amusement. And he had convinced himself, in a buzzed stupor, that this was happiness. Right then, he was at his most happy.
Their merriment was interrupted by another boisterous voice, a round of drinks falling into the hands of a lordly fellow. Cheers erupted across the ale room, as any drunkard would delight at not having to spare a coin for their next drink. Evandris had been sober enough to not just catch the brief toast, but the meaning behind the words. That ever changing visage of crownwearer. He’d known it quite well. A small sound, half amused and half dejected, fell from him, but it was drowned out in another drunk melody as his crew came full circle to singing again. He did not accompany their warbles, slinking away from the group to get a fresh drink from the burly velkynar manning the bar.
When his eyes had caught Lord Almara, it was with a bow of recognition that he greeted the other, awaiting a frothy mug to be set before him. “ I’m here making friends, ” he said, a nod of his head back towards the drunk singers. The lyrics were unrecognizable, a jumbled mess of syllables and sounds. “ I do not think their future lies in being minstrels but entertainment they do provide. And what brings you here, sir? Your speech leaves little by ways of ‘celebration’. Unless you are truly so morbid. ” A flash of understanding flashed through cornflower eyes as he accepted a drink and took a hearty sip.
luz knew it may not be necessary, but upon arriving in heliophra, the solkarith used any free time they had to travel around the hollow. having spent their entire life in braxigar, up until the most recent events in morkhul and vallarion, it was nice to be somewhere new. somewhere warm and lively. unfortunately luz had learned that no matter where in heliophra she visited, it would always come with hard stares, hushed voices and judgmental eyes. it was one to be from braxigar, the most disgraced hollow, but to be a solkarith?
at this point the judgement had become expected. luz did not allow hard words to permeate the tough skin she had developed. there were people in this hollow that cared for her, and supported the decision to train under lord tripathi, and that is what she needed to remind herself of when the voices grew too loud.
at this point in the night, luz had one too many drinks at a tavern she could not remember the name of, in a town that was unfamiliar to her, and it was getting harder to ignore those around her. so luz pulled their cloak around their body and began to push their way out the door and past the stiff bodies and watchful gazes. stepping out in the crisp, warm air (something luz still would have to get used to) they took a large, calming breath before heading to the small stables that housed the horse she had ridden here. or so, that was the intention, until she heard someone scream.
luz did not even think of their next moves as their ruby eyes shot upwards and landed on a figure sprinting away, numerous hands pointing towards them incase someone did not know where to look. her feet moved before she could think, and suddenly luz was chasing after them. and in this moment, their stature helped allow for a faster stride. as she approached the thief, luz realized their hands were empty. their sword had been left with their horse and it would potentially look unbecoming on her end to tackle a person here, even a thief. a quick scan had luz noticing a nearby shovel, and as she ran to grab it, collided harshly with another body she had not noticed.
"shit," luz muttered, turning towards the woman who seemed just as startled as they were. and as luz made out a somewhat familiar (and beautiful) face, one that they had seen at numerous events the last few months, she asked, just as surprised, "what are you doing here?" but an answer would have to wait, as the altinsoy daughter warned her. turning quickly, luz ran to grab for the shovel with every intention of tripping the thief, however, it seemed lady altinsoy had a similar though, as they were both now fighting each other for control of the shovel. "let go!" luz growled, annoyed that this act of heroism and bravery was becoming more difficult by the second. she looked back and saw the man approaching, and knew in the next few minutes one of them would have to give up their hold on the shovel, or somehow work together to use it against the criminal. "we should trip him!" luz shouted as she tightened her trip on the staff.
The question should not have infuriated her. She was not the interloper, how dare this Braxigarian question what she was doing in her own Hollow? Of course in the flash second such judgement weighed on her, it had dawned on Leyla that they were less questioning her presence there in the grand scheme so much as in that moment, both attempting to wrestle the shovel out of the grasp of the other. A feat which had required much muscle — despite how small the other looked, they were tough. Leyla felt the curl of muscle beneath her own skin as she gripped tightly and attempted to wretch the shovel’s shaft free from their grasp. But the other’s hold was like steel, strong and tight, just as unwilling to let go. If she were not annoyed, she may have been impressed with their might.
But there had not been time to admire.
Her amber gaze followed the same line as the other, seeing the thief bounding in their direction. Eyes focusing back on the Braxigarian, Leyla was poised to quickly twist the shovel in a circular motion. If she did it quickly enough, she could force the other to let go of their hold, thus taking control at the opportune moment to take the man out. Before she could do such a thing, the other was suggesting what to do. With an indelicate roll of her eyes, she did not stop herself from scoffing.
“ A novel idea, how grateful I am for your ingenuity, ” her voice dripped in a sarcasm that would have permeated her thoughts but never made it out of her mouth. It was not ladylike, and Leyla was taught to be the epitome of ladylike. She had lost her composure, for she was being someone else entirely right then. She wasn’t Leyla Altinsoy, the elegant and demure and pretty little lady of Elaris Keep. She was trying to be the Starling Knight, that small town folk hero who fought in melees and gave every coin earned right back to the community. The kind of velkynar who would have stepped forward right then and there and stopped that thief without a single thought otherwise.
The time was not plentiful for her to act, and another worrisome thought soon dawned on her. With those red eyes on her, Leyla realized she couldn’t easily blend back into the crowd if she were to do anything here to help the situation. Her cover would be blown, even if only to this velkynar. And she couldn’t have that. If anything was to happen now… Leyla knew she had to leave it in this outsider’s hands, no matter how much it bruised her ego as a Lady of Heliophra to leave such a chance to this Liege of Braxigar. And so with great reluctance, she let go of the shovel, stepping back into the shadows. Her eyes caught the cart the shovel was beside, full of netting that suggested it had been used to carry in some sort of catch. Perfect for tangling someone up.
So perhaps she wouldn’t be completely useless.
Swiftly tugging and pulling the net free, she nodded at the other. “ Take him down, quickly! ” She called out, hoisting herself onto the side of the car and angling herself so she could readily toss the net out when the thief stumbled forward. If they could just tangle him up enough to slow his movement, then it would give the guards running across the square enough time to make it to them and detain the man before he could recover and scramble away. “ Here he comes! ”
Their smiles meeting brings no warmth to Ruoxi, but instead rather startle her, surprise intertwined with a need to make sure that her robes were decently fastened. It was one thing for her to be as her nature dictated, as fast and loose and brazen as a bull in a shop of crystal wares—and another to put her family’s station at true risk. And so the younger Altinsoy was much alike delicate porcelain that her grandmother had kept at the highest of pillars: not to be touched, and hell would be wrought were it to be toppled even if by an accidental, light touch.
Ruoxi feels like a cornered dog. Her back suddenly ram-rod straight, and her eyes shine with a slight tinge of panic. But quickly she attempts to relax again, play it safe. She is tipsy, aye, but she fears Leyla’s own sway: there was an acknowledgement that were that to be so, Ruoxi would feel the fear of responsibility, and make herself sick for it.
Never-mind that she was definitely the tipsier of the two right at the very moment.
“I would have to be someone quite different, to wave away your company—and oh, they do, for their own lives can be quite dull.” The weariness is not fast enough to catch and stop her wicked tongue, however, and she barrels on even when despairing at her own self. “Though I doubt any wish for sharpness in their lives, nowadays.” She takes an undignified swig of the bottle.
“Too many, milling around like ants.” Ruoxi agrees. “And too much fear and sadness under the revelry for me to enjoy it. I was here to escape such thoughts, only to find myself under them.” She tsk'd, gaze sad, mouth twisting. “Heliophran blood cannot help but thrum, however, can it? It has been too long since the last tourney.” The thought strikes her, suddenly. Months, since she had felt the weight of a weapon in her hand, longer still since she ached to use it. “A good melee would do us well. Bring the mind out of its stupor. There’s too much making one heavy, as of late.” She thumbs at the fog on the colored glass of her bottle, brought by the night’s chill meeting the warmth of her hand. Though she winces, just a moment later, and smiles, though not half-way as sharp as she is known to be. “May the lady not be scared by my love for brutality. It is simply a bored knight’s musings. We grow bored when there is nothing to pummel, you see.”
“I answered your question first. One for one, young Lady.” For despite their similarities in age, she would be a young lady in Ruoxi’s eyes indeed. “It is your turn at the bout—speak of what has brought you here, rather than staying inside, where the party is at its peak. If you truly abhorred the lack of air, then why even come at all? Or perhaps, that is what you thought you sought?”
She had been speaking loosely, but suddenly, a recognition flashed through her eyes like the sun glinting off a drawn sword. Ruoxi spoke honest before she could think better of it. “It is no help, you know.” She curses her own candor, her own honesty; of the way she would refer to their shared grief yet refuse to name it outright. “Such pleasures have not helped me, as of yet, and I know how to seek pleasure indeed.”
Spending a life being taught to be still and quiet, attentive when being addressed and reverent until it was your turn to speak meant Leyla had spent a long time just observing others. She could sense the nerves her presence had only momentarily drawn, perhaps a side effect of the alcohol coursing through the other’s system. But then it wasn’t uncommon here — in Heliophra, she was one of its ruling family. The youngest of a proud lineage that stood as stewards of this hollow and the velkynar within. Often times others sobered up, stood at rapt attention in the presence of those that lorded over them.
It felt silly, given she thought of herself as someone of very little consequence. She did not stand to become much, she wasn’t the heir and up until recently she was only the fourth, now third, in line to anything. She wasn’t even a spare. She was the surprise child that came along and served only to project the family’s charm and sophistication wherever she went. When others looked upon her as someone important, it had only served to remind Leyla how unimportant she actually was in the grand scheme of things. She was not expected to do or be much, and if she had accomplishments they mattered none at all. She would always just be seen as something pretty, fragile, and small, something delicate and lovely to place upon a mantle or within a case, praised only for how beautiful it looked on display and not for its usefulness. It should have humbled her, but it had only spurned her to try and carve a path for herself, even if that was done in secret.
” It appears the darkness permeates every corner these days, ” she mused, her lips pressed delicately to the brim of her own glass. “ It’s hard to avoid what we are constantly being faced with. If only the libation was nice enough to soothe. ” A light insult, her nose wrinkling after another unsatisfied sip. The drink had been alright before, but she did not find much comfort at the bottom of bottles in general. Ironically, it was the thing Lady Ruoxi was seeking forgiveness for that Leyla found cured her aches. Or at least took her mind off of everything. After all, she was a Heliophran through and through. Even if she was not (as far as others knew) trained in the blade, her hollow had turned out proud and noble knights. She had attended tourneys as audience and seen the pride in the faces of velkynar of this very land. She could agree on that alone.
Still, she never wanted to invite much suspicion. And so Leyla ‘turned her nose up’ at that comment, pursing her lips indelicately before smoothing out her expression. Trying to act like she was swiftly hiding any disgust from the other’s comment. “ Well, I cannot fault you your hobbies. Even with how little I understand them. Perhaps your ladyship will have to enlighten me as to the joys of this ‘pummeling’ you speak of. ” With her arms folded over her chest, one hand holding her glass up, she hid her fee hand beneath her opposing elbow, her thumb grazing a faint scar on her palm where she had grasped an opposing sword with her bare hand once. Ruoxi would not know that Leyla was intimately aware of the cathartic nature of sword fighting, that she yearned for a tourney as much as the other. That would be her secret and her secret alone, for as long as she would live. And with how the world turned nowadays, perhaps that wouldn’t be so long after all.
Brows rising, she had to pause mid sip at the words which came out of the other then. “ Goodness, ” she exclaimed, dabbing gently at the drop of champagne which dribbled down her chin, “ For a moment there, it seemed as though I were speaking with my old Governess. ” Having anyone close in age with her refer to her as ‘young lady’ had partially amused and bothered her. It was once more a reminder of how she was perceived, as young and soft and naive. Smoothing her dress, she had not even had the chance to respond before recognition was making itself known in Ruoxi’s expression. Taking in a slow breath, she had met the other’s plentiful words with a silence of her own, allowing it to stretch between them as Leyla diverted her gaze back to the darkness beyond the party.
“ I came to the fête because my friends had asked me to. ” It was truthful. Those of hers that were friends in this Hollow, lesser nobles who knew Leyla in the most shallow of sense, for her charm and poise and gregarious nature. They had invited her because in that shallow sense they thought a party and drink is what would cure such a wounded soul. They did not have the ability to see how it could only make one feel even more alone and fragile. Sure, she was surrounded by the merriment, but it didn’t help if she was not feeling all too merry. It seemed the only other velkynar who could understand that was also at the fringes of the party, alone in an isolated corner with a bottle as her company. Leyla supposed there was something poetic in such an idea. “ And it’s apparent that I do not need to specify why I came out here for some air. I know none of this helps, but… It is better than being locked at home, feeling sorry for myself and my family over and over again. At some point, you have to get up and return to normal life, whatever that may be. ” She shrugged, motioning around, “ This is supposed to be normal life for us privileged nobles, is it not? Parties, the finest drinks, good company and laughter. ”
there are opinions that are common amongst the folk, even in a land as quiet as morkhul; some of them truths, some are rumors. there is more of the latter than the first. haneul rarely humors it, yet also knowing how valuable knowledge is, they listen every once in a while. that is all. something like an off-handed curiosity. and when it comes to house of elarion, the ruling house of their hollow — haneul has already formed their own thoughts about its members, of which they try not to show upon their expression. they think of the younger to be carefree at best... and a few other adjectives at their worst. what's interesting this time is that they seem to be in lower spirits than themself, which haneul attributes to the lockdown, and perhaps all the tragedy that occurred weeks before. "lord elarion." they greet calmly, eyes following the bags the other is holding, the peak of boxes, hinting at ingredients that seem to be for paints or cooking. frivolous. in character with the image they have of him in their mind. the words seem just as colorful, so unlike their own prose that it takes a lot of effort not to let amusement cloud their features. they adjust. "i suppose it is for the bird's own good, it is almost wintertime." a pause, their gaze brushes upon the other people walking by in a hurry, all of them clueless. "there are some who freeze to death, when the temperatures reach dangerous levels... unlike the years before." at the comment regarding the book, they hold it out, briefly turning its cover. it has a depiction of an herb, an encyclopedia about different plants found in morkhul, their properties, and uses. "on the contrary. trying to connect with it more." they tuck it back underneath their arm, inquisitive eyes fixed on evandris' features. "how is the house of moira recuperating? i hope everyone managed to rest after the... turmoil back in vallarion."
” Evandris, ” he corrected in a sigh. He never quite liked being referred to by his surname, felt that it more suited his noble council member father than it had him. It also felt silly, while wearing a paint stained muslin shirt and leather trousers and boots covered in dust from stomping down the road, to be referred to in such a formal way. He did not appear the image of a fanciful lord, not at present. He thought for all intents and purposes, he appeared rather common. Though his vanity prevented him from ever seeing himself so simply — Evandris never appeared in court looking so drab, but this period at home brought out strange sides to him as he navigated his emotions after all they had been through.
Bits of his usual nature and demeanor showed through, spilling between the cracks. His lips curled upwards in a smile that dared to be amused, dimpling his cheeks. Haneul may not as spoke in such a colorful tone as he, but Evandris enjoyed that they met him with the metaphor. Glancing above, towards a dark sky where clouds covered the stars from view, he shrugged, “ I fear the frost will seep into this cage soon enough. ” It had seemed inevitable at this point, that there was something unknown and sinister waiting at the end of the road. He and his family had been safe, perhaps by the virtue of being Elarions and being held to some degree above most, but how much longer would their luck run? And when would his cowardly disposition finally prove the end of him? If darker times were approaching, then there was nothing Evandris could do to stave them off. He made for a pretty cloak, but not the kind that could fend off a bleak and icy cold winter’s frost.
He spied the cover and his brows knit gently. Evandris couldn’t help the splash of curiosity washing over him, what could one do with such information? He was blatantly useless where nature and survival had been concerned; more akin to a little prince in an ivory tower where all things were so readily supplied for him and his comfort tantamount. Even with his wanderlust, he did not encounter much on the road that would require him to have any knowledge of that which could be found in nature. Flowers he knew because of their symbolism and beauty, but not for their use. “ Have you learned anything interesting? ” He asked, because it was respectable to show an interest.
But the conversation was quickly turned to his family, and Evandris was swift to nod. “ We all made out well, ” he confirmed, a softness in his gaze. He could still recall seeing his siblings seated together in that drawing room back in Vallarion, feeling a deep sense of gratitude to know they were in one piece after everything. It had been an even greater relief to have seen his father and mother, in their older age, also safe and free of harm. Aether’s health was all too important to Evandris — nothing made a man think on his own mortality than that of his father’s. Knowing he survived such a thing made Evandris believe they could survive anything. It also meant responsibility was still a thing of a distant future, at least with how he conducted himself. If the man ever fell… Evandris feared that day. “ And what of House Chae — how are you all fairing after such events? I hope your family was fortunate to have walked away without too much difficulty. ”
fear pricked down the length of aeliana's spine at the man's slurred words. he stank of liquor and what she could only assume was urine, and the closer he drew to the young elarion, the closer she clung to the wall of the tavern, taking tentative steps backwards. she would not make it far on foot, not in her state, and she lacked a weapon. all she had was her voice, but over the ruckus of the tavern, she feared no one would hear her. still, she had to try. she would not yield without a fight. it was not the elarion way.
just as she readied herself to scream, another swiftly stepped between her and her assailant. their back was to her, but she would recognize the figure anywhere. if not for the fact that she was still frozen in fear, she would have run to him and pressed her forehead to his back, wrapping her arms around him and thanking the fates for sending him when she needed him most. but instead, she watched as evandris cast the man away with a sharp tongue and an even sharper rapier. the man seemed to cower underneath her brother's blade, and he scurried away almost as quickly as he appeared.
aeliana could finally breathe. she inhaled a sharp breath of cold air and held it for a few seconds, hoping to regain the feeling in her limbs. they had gone numb under distress. she let it out slowly as she spoke to him for the first time that evening. "brother, i'm so gl--" he cut her off with his brusque question, frustration and anger seeping into every word. aeliana could not recall when he had ever spoken to her in such a manner, and she did not care for it at all. "i wanted a breath of fresh air," she answered, hiccupping immediately after.
it was clear by the flush of her cheeks and the way she still swayed on her feet that she had come here for more than merely that. still, he would not scold her like she was still a child. defensively, she retorted, "what are you doing here?" once grateful for his presence, and now wishing he had never happened upon her to begin with; aeliana was never one to willingly cause a stir. she much more preferred to keep at peace with others, especially her brothers. they were her fiercest protectors, and she, in turn, theirs, but perhaps it was the liquid courage that made her dare to turn her nose up at her brother.
As quickly as he had turned to look at her, Evandris diverted his gaze back into the tavern, looking through a window in dire need of cleaning to see if he could spot the drunk man. If he had been right about the other having a group of friends to return to, it meant the potential for more trouble. And given Aeliana’s state, he desired nothing more than to get out of there as quickly as possible. In normal circumstances he would have been terribly occupied with making sure she was alright, that she had been in one proper piece and the stress of the situation hadn’t gotten to her. That had been how he acted during the fire, when he took her hand and lead her and the others to safety. But anger and frustration were coursing through him now, heavy and relentless as a flash flood of negative emotions washed over him. If Evandris had given himself even the smallest moment to recognize his anger was not completely aimed at his beloved sister, perhaps he would have been more forgiving of the predicament she had found herself in, more aware of the distressful situation he had stumbled upon. But he was frustrated. He was tired. He was growing weary with everything. And he hadn’t the patience to even pretend to be alright, not even for her sake.
Her answer had not satisfied him. It was the sort of dance around the truth that he would deploy, an avoidance at being honest which he did not associate with Aeliana. Nothing about the situation seemed normal for her, which only caused him to feel even more lost and frustrated in the moment. His shoulders lifted and dropped with a heavy and agitated sigh, sheathing the sword as his jaw tightened. “ You know perfectly well I do not mean what are you doing out here — I mean at a place like this, ” Evandris said, waving his now free hand at the tavern. Never mind that he was a regular in such disgraceful hovels, the presence of his dearest sister, hiccuping around her words with the smell of ale on her breath, had him scowling.
When she had turned the question on him, he scoffed. “ For debauchery, what else? ” It was normal for Evandris to be at these spaces, this was one of his old haunts after all. It was not he that was acting out of his character, and despite how much she might have adored him he knew that she was aware of the person he was beyond the walls of Moira. She would be naive to pretend otherwise. He returned his harsh gaze to the window, spying about for trouble. They needed to get out of there fast. He may have shown daring and courage in that flash moment between Aeliana and the drunkard moments ago, but Evandris was no master swordsman. He likewise was no courageous hero. If others came out with fists or blades to avenge the honor of a friend who he had gently nicked with his sword, then they would be in very big trouble in deed. He could not protect Aeliana in such a state, and the reality was that he was in no position to protect her in general. And he didn’t wish for her to see how truly powerless he was. “ We need to go, ” he said, his tone still sharp though he had softened his voice just a bit. He was speaking to his sister, after all, though he hadn’t been looking close enough to see the defiance she was putting on display.
He was already turning in the direction that he had approached, eyes on the darkness as he loosened the cloak on his shoulders. In part because he wanted his refinery to be clear, so that perhaps if those velkynar carried ill will and wished to come and avenge their friend, they could recognize his nobility and decide against it. But also to show off the parrying dagger he also had on his person. Maybe he was not the greatest at wielding either, but he could give off the impression. “ I found Zinnia grazing not too far, ” Evandris announced, turning back towards her then. His blue eyes danced over her face then, alight in the moonlight, and he was stricken with guilt and shame. Guilt for being so harsh during such a daunting moment, and shame because he was showing a side of himself that was not frequently shown among the gentry. Not even to his family. He diverted his gaze immediately.
“ Aeliana, we cannot stay here. If we go back inside, and your new acquaintance attempts to make a scene, we will all be asked to leave and left to our own devices with no help whatsoever. ” He wasn’t sure if it was entirely true, maybe they got word that the Elarions were here and the ruffian would not start trouble. Or maybe there were friends inside that would be on their side. He did not wish to chance it. He was already in a difficult position if they went back to Moira and their noble parents caught him bringing home an intoxicated Aeliana. They would blame him, because of course he would be the reason for this. His bad influence, his poor judgement, his inability to look after his younger siblings or to preserve their noble reputation, would all be thrown in his face. Proof of what a disgrace of a son and a brother he could be.
“ It’s best we get to the horses and back on the road as soon as possible, okay? We can find shelter elsewhere, and you can tell me what brought you out here on your own. I’ll listen, without judgement, just as I always have and will, but we can’t have that conversation here. Now are you fit to ride? ” He felt the answer was no. Her state was somewhat evident to him from the moment he stepped out, but he was trying to be more civil, more calm. He did not want to completely ruin whatever noble image of him she still had left in her mind after he had snapped at her, even if he didn’t deserve her good graces.
Air fogs around her thoroughbred’s nostril, deep and heavy; unrestricted as it comes to a gallop, its spine and muscle rolling with each and every rhythmic force. With each stride, Diya can feel the wind brushing against the bronze of her skin, cooling the faint riding sheen that lingered along the crest of her cheek. Welcomed she, the hush of delight that shackled within her as she felt each punch of hoof hit the earth. As her thoroughbred yields to a gentler pace, it saunters towards her old friend, fore and hind limbs dancing in a cadenced percussion, melodic as if she’s merely at a tourney granting herself for the first prize. For she always did. And for a singular moment, as Leyla’s sleek and refined features come as clear as a winter morning, the lady knight finds herself back in the stables in Vallarion, where the red cape donned her friend’s frame like a shroud. It was as though wherever they were, horses perpetually gathered their paths together, and something fluttered in the pit of her heart, light yet uneasy, as small as a dove that could birth the wings of a rekindled flight.
Diya pulls the reins gently, and tightens the grip with her legs as she turns the horse around, halting it. Her chin juts gracefully towards the animal. " She’s nervous. " Said she, brows furrowed, concern etched clearly as Diya’s amber gaze flickers toward the steed’s hooves. But her eyes whip again towards Leyla, the crease between her brows softening like sand washed away by a wave. As she opens her mouth to speak, she wonders how many letters her parents had sent, or if Hiran had spread the word of her knighthood for her. " I imagine anyone with proper sense would be. " For who wouldn’t be, she thought; her own post, her own charge, her own terrain where she would either meet flatlands or mountainside like her brother. " I’ve spent more nights awake thinking of my knighthood than I probably should confess to. " It should have come easy, the sword and the vow, for both were born within the same breath, forged through her condensed line of ancestry.
" Though I suspect you are less interested in my anxieties than in distracting me from yours. " Diya said as her eyes fell from Leyla towards the steed again, and gracefully, her fingers reach out, interlocking at the steed’s reins, pulling gently. " Here. " Hue of voice soft and mellow. " Let me. " The horse follows easily enough, a breath blown loud from its nostrils as it started to walk. Still, she holds both reins as if they’re tender, soft leather molding into the cushion of her palm. Once the steed walks without any urging, Diya hands over the reins back to her old friend. " If you ever find yourself idle, you may visit me. I can teach you how to ride like a true knight. " For as long as she was in Heliophra, at least.
“ That makes for two of us, ” Leyla quipped, trying hard not to pout. She was usually so quick at picking up other skills, but her foray into horseback riding had been less than stellar. And with how confident and natural Diya appeared on the back of her own horse, it had only further highlighted how unnatural Leyla felt in turn. Competition with other ladies was not an unheard of thing. While Leyla thought herself above comparison with the other young ladies at court, it didn’t mean she wasn’t uncomfortable at seeing how poorly she performed beside another. She positively despised it when her shortcomings were so easily on display, that someone was bearing witness to how inadequate she could truly be. And it was a shortcoming, to be a young lady at court who was not well accustomed to riding a horse. So many nobles fancied horseback riding as a hobby, were well adept at it. And then there was Leyla, who couldn’t even tell when a horse was nervous. “ I suppose I am not helping that situation. ” She gave Diya a sheepish grin as she trampled her insecurities deep within.
Her smile turned sympathetic as Diya confirmed the anxieties her pending knighthood had left her with. As an outsider looking in, it all seemed so exciting. But everything regarding stalwart and noble knights had this romantic and almost mythical quality to them. It was what made her own masquerade and childish make believe of being some proud sword fighter so exciting. But even with her secret adventures of the past few years, Leyla could not wrap her own mind around what Diya was experiencing. The weight of these vows, of her family’s legacy held upon her shoulders. Of course she was nervous, whether or not she was excited about it. It was so much more than going around on a horse with sword or lance. It was far bigger than Leyla could ever truly comprehend. Maybe if their relationship had been mended far sooner… Maybe she would have a better understanding of how much this impacted the other. “ You’re on the precipice of something grand and exciting. What is sleep to such a big chapter of your life unfolding? I do not believe anyone blames you for that. I can only imagine the stress of it all. But… For whatever it may be worth, I do believe you will be a splendid knight. ”
Her lips parted to comment, but Diya was soon assisting with her unsteady horse. Choosing to stay quiet and relaxed, Leyla allowed the other to take the reins from her and urge the horse to walk. When she had the reins back in her possession, she feared the steed would come to a halt again, or prove unruly once more, but it seemed the animal had calmed and was in a position to be directed even by her. Despite herself, Leyla beamed brightly at the other, appreciation so evident in her blinding smile. “ Mark my words, the next time we meet I will have a stronger grasp on horse riding. You’ll not have to intervene too much. ” She tightened her jaw to keep her smile from faltering a bit. Like a true knight. If only she knew the irony of such a statement, and how deeply it cut.
“ But… Perhaps even before then, I shall come by to see you. Whether for riding lessons or not. At least until you depart from here. ” It was not like it would be goodbye forever, their paths still very well could cross at future court events after all, but there was still a strange thing looming over them. Like there was little time to patch up that final frayed thread between them, to find that closure and leave things in a space adequate for further mending and healing. Leyla paused at the thought. If recent events had reminded her of anything, it was how swiftly things in their world were changing and beyond their control. Maybe it was the appropriate time to fully turn over the leaf, and to bury whatever lingering discomfort existed between them while time was still somewhat on their side. “ I am interested, you know, ” she said after a moment, steering the conversation back to a previous comment made by Diya. “ In you, in whatever anxieties or thoughts you may have. That part of me hasn’t changed. So if you wish to unburden yourself… Just know I would not mind listening. ”
JONATHAN BAILEY 'Wicked: For Good' Deleted Scene
open starter for morkhul muses ! capping at three replies ( 1 / 3 )
setting: a tavern near the outskirts of morkhul, a few days after their return featuring: aeliana elarion & ____
aeliana thought the balm to soothe her soul would rest back home in moira castle, but it was quite the opposite. it was crushing, the weight under which she found herself. there was no respite from the heaviness on her heart and her mind, so she did the only thing she could do: she ran.
she knew the guards of moira castle were even more on alert than they had ever been what with the tragedy of the dance they had hosted and what ruin became of house tethalune, but aeliana knew the ins and out of her home and the people within it. she knew that there was one guard along the walls who liked to take a respite from his duties to tend to his needs - without fail, just past dawn.
it was enough time for her to sneak past and make her way to the stables to fetch her horse. she had long ago learned how to ride when her parents gifted her with her beautiful steed, zinnia, on the eve of her ten-and-sixth year. together, and usually under the supervision of a guard or her brothers, they would keep close to moira castle and go for a ride underneath luminescent canopies, zinnia's beautiful orange coat shining brightly undeath its light. aeliana wondered sometimes if they rode fast enough if she would appear like a flame, blazing through and creating her own path.
this time, they did not stay close. no, aeliana rode faster than she ever had. the beat of zinnia's hooves against the solid ground matched the beat of the young elarion's heart against her ribcage - thud, thud, thud, thud, thud. she did not stop until she had gone far enough that moira castle could barely be seen along the horizon. all she saw were stars, twinkling in the night sky. she slowed their pace and breathed. it felt like the first time she had since arriving back home.
she eventually came upon a tavern she had never visited before; it was unlike the young lady to be seen in one. she kept the hood of her cloak raised to keep from catching the sight of anyone who would recognize her for who she was. when she entered, she asked for an ale - it dawned on her she had never tried one before. only wines until then.
aeliana could not stand the taste of it, but she chugged it with a swiftness of a man with a stronger gut than she. she requested another. and then another. and then perhaps, one or two more after that. it became unclear how many drinks aeliana had consumed, but when she rose again, the world tilted on its axis, and she gripped the edge of the bar to keep herself upright. suddenly, she didn't feel so well.
she made her way outside, muttering under her breath, "zinnia, i cannot.. make heads or tails... of where we are." her words were jilted, half-mumbled things and as she turned the corner of the tavern, she expected to see her waiting there but found an empty patch of grass instead. "zinnia?" she called for her, whipping her head. the hood of her cloak fell, revealing herself underneath the moon's light. she spun, and the world titled again, but she gripped the side of the tavern just as someone turned the corner, looking at her questioningly. "i -hic- seem to have misplaced my friend," was all she could offer as explanation.
In a dark backroom of a seedy tavern, Evandris sat at the head of a rather large round table. His blue gaze flickered between a hand of cards and the other faces sat in the circle, their expressions barely lit by orange candle glow. He had not ventured past Moira very much since their return, but a curious letter had made its way to his study after long, with it an invitation he did not exactly have the right to refuse. Evandris was no stranger to the backwater routes and establishments that dotted even the extravagant cities of Morkhul. In fact, he was a constant patron to these places, always seeking something whether it be revelry, distractions, lovers or pertinent information towards a secret hunt he'd been engaged in for some time. And he was told that such information he had long been searching for was possibly awaiting him. That is, if he joined in a round of cards and earned it.
His gaze lingered then on a man seated directly across from him, with an impressive black beard and meaty hands which swiped moisture away from his bald head. His clothes were dusty and worn from nights spent on the road, traveling from tavern to tavern. According to the tip Evandris had been given, this man was some sort of merchant who ferried goods between Morkhul and its neighboring hollows. In no normal circumstance would Evandris feel obliged to seek the counsel of such a man, but the tavern owner had informed him that this man had traveled further than most Morkhul merchants, and had a good memory of all the faces he’d seen in the road. Which had come with the belief that this man may have had information about a woman who had passed through the main road out of Morkhul several years ago. This was enough to get Evandris out of his study and riding down a winding path towards the tavern in question.
This had been his favorite seedy establishment to loiter in, one where it was not uncommon to see Evandris's face among the crowd. Normally when he was there he would occupy the small and worn stage that they built into the corner, serenade the drunkards with songs of revelry and adventure first before taking a drink and engaging the other barflies with conversation. Only after a couple hours of this would he then whisk away into this very back room to join in on some gambling, cleverly winning loot that he could have easily purchased otherwise. Tonight had been a great departure from his normal nights in town. Instead of wasting away with his comrades, Evandris marched in, steely eyed and determined, going directly for that card table in the back. He had a plan, and needed no other distractions. Tonight he would best this merchant and then he would get to his real purpose for being there, and only if this tip proved to be true would any ounce of merriment return to his moody disposition.
Another in the circle folded, the pressure of the round getting to him. One by one, other patrons were pulling out of the game, unable to bluff about their abysmal hands. Evandris stayed silent and still as stone in his spot, expression devoid of any hint at what cards he possessed. The Royal Flush he held had him confident, assured that nothing would deter his win. He was watching that man across the way, with his bushy brows and matching unkempt beard, sweating under the glow of the fire and yet not giving away his stance. It hadn't mattered, when they revealed their hands Evandris would win and he would shove the plentiful pile of goods that had accumulated in the middle throughout the night in the merchant's direction. I don't want the gold, just tell me about the girl, he would say. They said you knew something about the girl. His heartrate was picking up, not from the excitement of his impending win. It had been years of no answers, of no hints and here he stood at the possible precipice of something. Something to finally bring his curiosities to light, to possibly end the torment of not knowing that which had riddled his mind the past ten years. He felt so close to finding a peace he never imagined he would know, and only one round of cards stood between him and that potential. Nothing could deter him in this moment. Positively nothing.
" Lord Vander, my apologies for interruptin', sir, but... Someone has wandered into the dinin' hall which we think you may wish to see. "
Irritation rose within him, Evandris gripping his cards so hard he almost bent them in his grasp. He did not turn his gaze onto the ginger haired barmaid who had thought to interrupt, leaning over his shoulder and trying to grab his attention. He waved a hand at her, dismissive and curt, not even bothering to look at her or speak to her. It wasn't until she began hastily tugging at his sleeve that Evandris pulled his eyes off his unsuspecting prey and onto the woman. " What could possibly be so important as to interrupt me while in the middle of a game? " he bellowed, causing the others at the table to jolt in their seats. It was rare that he raised his voice to any of them, that he was so outwardly angry with or irritated by another. He was always so kind to his friends at the tavern, deemed they call him Vander as though they were his dearest companions. He never mistreated them. In that moment it seemed as though this card game had taken such precedence with him that it caused him to act so uncharacteristic of himself, but then two words were whispered to him which had Evandris abandoning everything right then and there. Even the hope that a decade long mystery was close to being brought to light.
" Your sister. "
When the cold air greeted him, his shoulders drooped at the sight of a familiar orange coated mare, grazing in the grass beside his midnight colored stallion. He had hoped the barmaid was misinformed, and that he would not have seen a sign of it but there was no mistaking it. He knew that horse well. " Zinnia.... What are you doing so far away from home? " Evandris's voice was gentle as he stroked the neck of the horse, the beast calm as she recognized the other Elarion. How often had he been beside Aeliana when she went riding on this very horse, himself upon Galahad racing after a beloved younger sister and giving her guidance with her own riding? A beloved sister he had not seen in the immediate vicinity. " And where is your rider, hm? " When he emerged from the back room and into the large dining hall, he did not immediately see Aeliana among the crowd filling the tavern. For a moment he thought this was some trick to get him out of the game before he could win, but the barmaid assured him that the middle Elarion was seen in the dining hall. And more worrying, she had plenty of ale before the maid thought to seek him out. He'd gone outside to confirm the worst; Aeliana's horse was there, which meant she was also somewhere nearby. But where?
The tavern was large, had a number of exits along the perimeter. Securing Zinnia to the same post where Galahad had been, Evandris decided to follow along the side of the building in hopes of running into his sister. Perhaps she stepped out another side to get some air. Or maybe she was already back within, where it was not the kindest place but at least a little more safe than it was outside on this side of town. With his cloak drawn around him, hiding his fine clothes and the rapier he had strapped to his hip before leaving the castle, Evandris rounded a corner and stopped immediately in his tracks. A man was loitering there, one of the ruffians that were common in this part of town and in this sort of establishment.
He was ready to shoulder past him, continue onwards on his search, but then Evandris heard a familiar voice, one so unmistakable that he was already grasping the hilt of his sword before fully registering the conversation. It was Aeliana, and she was searching for her horse. " I dinnae ken anythin' about yer misplaced friend, lass, but I can be yer friend tonight if ye like, " the man's words were just as slurred, inebriated and clearly eager for a prospect which had Evandris's skin crawling. He knew this type well, knew what must have been going through his mind at the sight of the young woman. It instantly awakened something within him, a deeply protective instinct that immediately had him envisioning red.
In two swift strides he emerged from the shadows, stepping between Aeliana and the broad figure looming before her. His sword sliced through the air, elegant and refined, the sharp point pressing into the man's jugular as Evandris set himself up as a wall between his dear sister and the ruffian who had stumbled upon her. " I'm sorry to say, sir, but you are not an adequate companion for my friend here. Now seeing as we have been reunited, I suggest you turn around and return within to whatever party of heathens and miscreants you belong to, and forget that you ever stumbled upon this young woman. Do I make myself clear? "
He pressed forward, the tip of his rapier digging into the soft skin beneath the man's scraggly beard. In the moonlight he saw a ribbon of scarlet unfold at the spot. When the man did not go immediately, Evandris twisted his wrist, digging the sword against his skin and earning a distressed yelp in response before the man scurried away, leaving just Evandris and Aeliana alone. Only once he heard the heavy thud of the tavern door closing behind the other did Evandris turn then, brows pulled tight over his blue eyes as he turned a rather angry gaze onto Aeliana. " What in the hells are you doing here, Aeliana? "
location : market place , morkhul ⏲ nocturnia hollows from : chae haneul , liege of greenspire to : open starter for morkhulians [ 𝟎 / 𝟑 ]
while the mask of stoicism remains in liege chae's countenance, there is an air of levity if compared to when they were back in vallarion. impossible to spot for an untrained eye as they seem as impassive as ever, but beneath, it is as if they stopped holding their breath. not checking every corner for danger, privy to the snap of a branch, the wrong way the wind blows. this is familiar territory, while not void of danger, they know every nook and cranny, how the nature of morkhul operates, how it behaves when something is wrong. as such, with higher moods than likely most of the other returners, they make an effort to not let it show. they walk through the scattered crowds, holding in their grasp a book they purchased not long ago. they wonder if they should pick something up for their brother when they see the face from not long ago, and tilt their head forward in greeting. "hello." their voice deep, eyes inquisitive. "it seems to be a good time to be home... have you been enjoying yourself?"
Evandris normally thrived out within the community. Typically of a more gregarious and charming disposition, events that put him in the company of others were rarely an uninvited situation to be in. He liked being with others, practically yearned for it. But lately things felt different. It felt as though most opportunities spent in the company of his fellow velkynar were doomed to go sour, riddled in uncomfortable situations and tragic ends. Between telling a carefully held secret and inner shame to a lady he barely knew, and the catastrophic fire which marked their time in Vallarion as tragic, he had found himself growing weary with societal events. And then the announcement was made, just before they were all banished to their homes. It was hard even for him to find much enjoyment in all that was happening.
He had still turned to his usual distractions to keep from losing all sense of himself. Music and painting had been his most centering hobbies, had reminded Evandris of who he was and what beauty he was capable of. And so when inspiration was on his side, he tried to keep his focus there. If it hadn’t been for his dwindling pigments, he would have stayed in his study painting all of that night, but he was in need of new ingredients to prepare more paints. Which was the only reason he was in the marketplace. Sure, he could have sent a staff member to fetch these things for him, but despite how spoiled he was perceived to be, Evandris liked doing things for himself. So there he was, gathering saffron, tumeric, powdered lapis lazuli, cinnabar, some crushed malachite, and a bottle of linseed oil, paying far more than they were worth with the faintest winning smile and warmest words of gratitude to each seller as he did.
He had hoped to pass by unseen, eager to get home and begin work on preparing the pigments, when he crossed paths with a familiar face. Bowing his head, he returned the greeting in kind. “ My liege. ” Evandris’s lips pursed, thinking over the question. “ As much as a migratory bird locked in a cage just before winter would enjoy such a situation, ” he quipped. “ And you? ” Evandris’s eyes dropped curiously to the book in Haneul’s hand. “ Escaping to other worlds in another way, perhaps? ” He could not discern the cover, if it was a fictional tome or not, but figured he could engage in some small talk before stealing away.