the hound is humming you a lie, a lullaby

“but all night, he and the moon gazed upon each other with joyful and unblinking eyes.” evandris elarion lord heir to castle moira “i was a daydream, quiet and unseen. i lived in stories, but inside, i kept a mystery. i was a starling, nobody's darling.” leyla altinsoy lady of elaris keep the starling knight

[vainglcriousx]

NAVIGATION

𝐄𝐯𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐬 𝐄𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐧. — [ INTRO. ] [ CONNECTIONS. ] [ THREADS. ] [ INSPO. ]

𝐋𝐞𝐲𝐥𝐚 𝐀𝐥𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐲.  — [ INTRO. ] [ CONNECTIONS. ] [ THREADS. ] [ INSPO. ]

𝐂𝐢𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐃𝐚𝐠𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐧. — [ INTRO. ] [ CONNECTIONS. ] [ THREADS. ] [ INSPO. ]

[prophcsy]

For a moment, seraphyna simply listened, her gaze drifted outward across heliophra as evandris spoke of solitude, of crowds becoming more exhausting the larger they grew, and she found herself understanding far more than she wished to admit. “i think that is the great irony of gatherings such as these,” she said softly, “they are meant to bring people together, and yet somehow they often make solitude feel even more necessary.” the faintest curve touched her lips, “not at all, my lord, if anything i suspect your company is considerably quieter than most i might have encountered elsewhere tonight.” there was gentle humor in the observation, though it lacked its usual lightness. silver eyes shifted toward the parchment once more, “you are kind,” she murmured, though the words came with the subtle understanding that evandris had likely said similar things to many before her. silver gaze returned fully to him then, studying him with quiet attentiveness, “i do not think that is strange at all,” she replied after a moment. “there is something sacred in creation, i think. to make something from nothing, to leave behind proof that you were here, that you felt, that you saw beauty worth preserving.” a faint pause followed, and for the briefest moment something fragile flickered behind her silver eyes. “sometimes it is the only thing that reminds us who we are when everything else feels rather uncertain.”

silence settled briefly between them, warm wind stirring loose strands of caramel hair across her shoulder. for the first time since joining him, seraphyna hesitated. the pause was slight, but real.,her fingers folded loosely before her as a small act of composure. “nothing so dramatic as you might hope,” she answered at last, and though the attempt at lightness was there, it did not fully mask the strain beneath it, “i simply found myself in need of quiet.” her gaze drifted back toward the horizon. “there has been rather a lot to carry lately,” a small breath escaped her, not quite a sigh. when she looked back at him, her smile returned, gentle and polite and just convincing enough to pass at first glance. “but i assure you, i am well,” the lie was graceful, practiced, almost flawless.

[vainglcriousx]

Evandris hummed in agreement, sketching rapidly on the parchment as she spoke. Without lifting his eyes from the page, he said, “ I fear these gatherings as of late do little to bring us all together. ” His voice was low but even, not entitled grim as he continued, “ Sometimes it feels like the world is conspiring to drive us all apart. ” Trust was starting to feel like a commodity, faith in each other and their general safety often on the line when they congregated together. It seemed every chance they all met was for something great, only to devolve in utter chaos. And as the memory of the most recent times settled upon him, he remembered this was something that she especially understood. “ Or perhaps that’s just some of the dreadful dance partners out there pushing me away, ” he added, bringing some brevity to his own words. She called his company quiet and Evandris couldn’t help the loud and brief laughter that escaped him, echoing into the night. “ Oh forgive me, ” he said as he came down from the amusement, shaking his head while his dimpled grin remained. “ It’s been a while since someone referred to my company as quiet, ” he mused. He could be so talkative and vibrant, but tonight he was drawn in desaturated shades. Monochromatic, a bit dull. Contemplative as he worked.

He could have said he was not kind, that his compliments were not rare and often transactional. But there was little point. He was not attempting anything with her. In that moment Evandris was speaking relative truths without any hint of ulterior motives. Sometimes he was just complimenting beauty for what it was, with no desire to covet it. Such a thought made him wince internally. Had he strayed so far from himself he was not even remotely interested in pursuing anyone at that given moment? Gods, what had the world done to him lately. “ That is very poetic, ” he observed, pausing a brief moment before he continued working. It was very much his truth. There was little by way of legacy that he thought he would leave behind in this world other than his works, and he didn’t think there was a better legacy. His beautiful paintings, they would preserve his place in history. Or so he hoped. If they could provide windows into that the world was like when it was on the brink of so much change… to Evandris that was a far better legacy than wearing a crown or bearing a title. There was something very beautiful in art being his remains. “ Are you an artist, my lady? Perhaps in wordsmithing if not in the traditional sense? Either that or you just understand the artist’s soul so perfectly. ”

Evandris was quiet and still as she spoke, barely lifting his eyes up to observe her. Partially for the artwork, and partially because of what she was saying. He rarely cared about the feelings of others but it did not mean he couldn’t recognize the strain, the near flawless lie. Evandris was hardly truthful within his own dealings, he could recognize when another was concealing a truth. But he had not exactly needed her to word anything to begin with. At the very least, he suspected her House was out of sorts after what had transpired in their home not very long ago, uprooted and reestablished in an old castle likely drowning in its own ghosts. He could not fault her or her kin for not being entirely alright. It was also not in his nature to care or to press, and, while he hadn’t felt entirely himself as of late, Evandris was not looking to change his ways. “ If you say so, ” he replied smoothly, his tone portraying that he would believe her if that was what she wanted. He fell into silence then as he added more details to the sketch, pausing a moment to rest his wrist as he set the board aside. The sketch of her was mostly finished, detailed and looking just as she had there, captured vividly in graphite. He angled it so she could observe the work in progress, a distraction to show he would not press where it was unwanted. “ How am I doing so far? Is it like looking in a mirror? ” Evandris kept the conversation light, fussing with his cuffs as he looked away and allowed her to observe his work.

[prodigxlis]

They trace the intricacies with their eyes, mapping them as a traveler would; following the tale of this lute’s journey as told from his tongue and spoken by the smooth timber of his voice. Rosewood and mother of pearl, rosette and daffodil. Rarely did anything bloom in Drakathar—winter roses that withered quickly, and oft all that was left in the gale’s wake was the wind-buffeted trees with their branches bared. Now, there was lushness not just around them, but carved into the instrument, furthered by its song.

It cannot be helped. As if spelled, they play the chords even while the lute is still in his hands, a single progression drawn by their fingertip as to sweeten the air. “It’s beautiful.” Then, their eyes fall upon the family crest, and their face decides to color itself in several different shades of white and red.

“You can do whatever you like!” Shit. Peer, indeed, more than, truth be told! “I only mean to—” They extend their lyre but almost drop it as they rush, with a twitch to their brow and eyes almost closing at their own fumbling display. “Mine is simply a humble tool. I have a couple more, one back home I found in my travels made of wild cherry that is carved with the very same that gave the wood its name—that one is my second favorite—but this one, ah—ehm.” Ásta flusters at the way their own mouth runs, but continues nonetheless. “This one is the oldest of the three. Blackthorn wood, carved by our own weapon-master's hand after I gifted him his favorite song. The figure is that of a long dragon-snake—here, you can see its head.”

The scales remain despite the time they had weathered, but the wood of the creature’s head is smooth, as if someone had rubbed their thumb against it often, be it to pet the wood-dragon or for luck. “I’ve had it since I was a fourteen.” They pause. “The one before it broke alongside my knee. That was a long time ago.”

They do not step back, but remain still, awkwardly holding the lyre to his inspection—for however long he desires. But hopefully not too long, or their arms would cramp. “I did not mean to speak for so long, Lord Elarion.” Ásta’s cheeks have remained vaguely flushed ever since the recognition struck them like a stick does the drum. “I had heard of you—Though I did not know you played nor composed! I just—I usually tend to keep to myself, in the few parties where all the Hollows join. I had yet to learn your face.” It would’ve been a difficult one to forget.

“I—I couldn't." They refuse his offer, even though their eyes betray the greed that calls for them to accept; avert their gaze, lest they be further swayed by that gilded temptress. “I'd be too scared to drop it. But! You can hold my lyre, if you wish to. Even play it—I know how to play the lute! So I imagine you know how. Unless that is too much to assume then—I can teach you?”

[vainglcriousx]

The corners of his lips lift, impish and charmed, as they play a progression. On instinct, and purely from a joy of partaking in music, Evandris mirrored the notes, adding a few extra chords and flourishes after as if to continue writing an unknown melody. There was something charming about composing with someone he did not instantly recognize, as though within the notes and melody were greetings and questions. Who are you? Where are you from? Music was an entirely different language, another way to converse. Much like poetry, it touched people in many ways. Evandris loved the evocative nature of different forms of art, reveled in their beauty. And more often than not he used such wonderful things in his callous pursuit of others. That was far from his mind now, a more childish curiosity taking to his features as he observed their lyre in kind.

He stood a bit taller, as though emboldened by the compliment of his lute. As if he himself had crafted it. But the smile dimmed at their reaction to the crest. Ah, the spell had dissipated. Familiarity found its way to their face, and Evandris’s expression fell with disappointment. Perhaps he should have expected it eventually. Of Morkhul or not, most knew the Elarion crest at first glance. He felt a bit sheepish for expecting the recognition to not settle eventually, lost in the moment of not being a pair of nobles but just being a pair of musicians. He merely nodded in thanks for the compliment of the instrument, but his grin returned, this time more amused, as they explained the craftsmanship of their own instrument to him.

Without realizing, he reacted out, his fingers barely brushing over the smooth head of the dragon snake. Dragon. Drakathar. Lifting his blue eyes to their face, he carefully searched for familiarities, some sort of sign of what house they belonged to. It was clear then, the longer he looked at them. A clear family resemblance. Evandris felt a bit foolish not realizing right away, but then again he was not the most observant lord. He was too occupied with himself at times to even remember others or their names.

“ It is very beautiful, ” he returned the compliment to their own instrument. “ I’m curious about this song that was so beloved it would lead someone to gift you such a fine piece of art. Would you be willing to play it for me? ” He could tell it held a long history with the other, had likely played many a favorite song for someone somewhere. He did not know how many of his songs were favored by others. He played for a lot of drunks, who would claim one ditty was their favorite and then betray it for the next. His mother had loved a particular ballad of his, and would sometimes ask he play it for her and her beloved flowers in the garden. Beyond that, he could not name a time someone truly told him they adored his composition. If he were not enchanted by the lyre, he may have been jealous.

When his name escapes them, Evandris straightens up, moving his attention from the instrument to the player instead. “ I’m flattered, ” he teased lightly, his grin lopsided and winsome as they spoke of hearing of him. That could have meant a great many things — his reputation preceded him in many ways. Either it was family name, his art, or his other activities that gave him a name beyond his front door. Evidently it was not his talents that made it to them. He suspected it was the family title, especially as he had mentally concluded which house he suspected them to belong. “ But now that you know my face, I see I am at a disadvantage. I know yours, and I know some of your song, ” he played that short chord progression before continuing, “ But I do not know your name. ”

Their refusal to hold his instrument earned a wider amused grin. He thought he could see in their expression a desire that went against their words, an eagerness to touch the instrument. He shook his head lightly. “ Nonsense, it is not delicate. It’s crafted from the finest wood, and is quite sturdy… Seen its fair share of tavern brawls and survived without a scuff. I do not think you could damage it much. And besides — if I am trustworthy enough to hold yours, then surely you can hold mine. ”

He raised a brow, chuckling at the offer to teach him. “ I’ve never played the lyre, ” he admitted, still holding the lute out for them to take. “ You have the advantage here of knowing both our instruments. I would be happy to be your student, if it would mean broadening my repertoire. ”

[aenaos]

“That would not surprise me,” Hiran responded, his voice low and even, as if the matter demanded more seriousness than the lady accorded it. “She is a formidable warrior in her own right. I have the bruises and welts to show for it.” His eyes carefully flickered over her form, lingering nowhere in particular so as not to cause grievance. He mostly considered whether he recognized a fighter’s stance in her slight shape. There were tells in the way one held oneself—mostly balance and posture. The difficulty, however, was that a lady’s decorum and a warrior’s bearing shared more similarities than one might expect. Both carried their own sort of armor, confidence and composure woven as a shield, and while he noted her elegance, he also knew her to be a woman of great accomplishment. No doubt she would best him on the dance floor, but beyond that… well, perhaps that question held no true merit. After all, Hiran was known to be almost peerless, and only a rare few had ever come close to mastering him. One of them being the aforementioned sister.

“But well, you are right, of course.” Hiran inclined his head. “No harm came of it, and you are blessedly hale.” Lady Leyla continued to bear with him patiently, however—to the point that he suddenly felt less a knight and more a nagging nursemaid, or so Diya would no doubt have said. What right did he have to chide her? Unlike Diya, she was not of his blood. And yet… worry gnawed at him, and much like a dog with a bone, Hiran could not seem to let the matter go. “Yes,” he chuckled, voice touched with fleeting humor. “Though size matters little. For example, I know of ladies who carry a stiletto no matter the occasion. The blade is light as a sewing needle and can be concealed upon your person with little trouble, even beneath the lightest of silks and satins.” A careful pause. “Though I believe your sister would know more of it.” Whatever levity had touched his features dissipated. What did he know of ladies and their troubles? If he did, perhaps he would have treated his own lady better and not have injured her spirit so. “But I shall end my sermon here. As my sister often reminds me, I can be more hen than lion when I am so inclined.”

Baked goods tempted him little, as most food these days tasted like ash in his mouth. But he would not refuse a kind gesture, and even though his heart bled with each step, he could not deny how its ache soothed slightly at the sight of such youthful enthusiasm. “Then at your mercy I shall be.” He tilted his head, locks falling just so that for a moment he seemed the picture of boyish charm, as he had once been years past. “Please, do treat me kindly.” He followed her obediently, placing himself between her and any disturbances that came their way, whether thundering carriage or barking dog. “Do you have a favorite, my lady? I confess I do not often partake in sweets, so I welcome any suggestions.”

When she spoke her worry, he looked down at her with what he hoped passed as comfort. “No. If you wish for my silence, then I will not breathe a word of today, nor of what dangers almost befell you.” His voice turned softer. “I myself am an elder brother, so I know that such truths must come of their own accord. I doubt Lady Nuray would wish for me to betray your confidence either.” He reflected for a moment. "Though I grow more and more convinced your sister has developed the ability to glean truth from a single gesture. It is uncanny, how well she reads others."

[vainglcriousx]

Her eyes widened, amusement clear in her surprised gaze, at his mention of wounds at the expense of her sister. Nuray was a warrior in her own right, Leyla had seen her train on the grounds throughout her life and knew the mettle she carried. Perhaps it was a childhood of envy at seeing her sister being poised to be a stronger and more inspiring individual while she was bended and molded to simply be an elegant young lady which pushed Leyla to pursue a warrior’s life in secret, to attempt to go beyond what had been dictated for her. But envy was an ugly thing, one that made villains of those from whom one coveted. She did not fault Nuray for the differences in expectation between them ( after all, she lucked out by being the youngest one with little expectation ), and a part of her was grateful that the elder’s might was known. Perhaps it was another thing that kept danger at bay, kept Leyla so safe and comfortable. Her sister was an intimidating being, at times even for her. Who would dare go up against someone like her? Perhaps that was another reason she felt at peace traversing the cities in their home. Even when she almost walked head first into danger, would anyone dare harm her when that could draw the ire of a very powerful velkynar? “ I feel I should apologize on her behalf, but then again I suspect you were well aware of the potential outcome of sparring with Nuray. ” She couldn’t help but find humor in the mental image of him, a decorated knight, perhaps the greatest in the realm, being bested by her sister. She was almost bursting with pride at the thought.

He spoke of stilettos and she managed to shift her expression to be equally curious and naive to what he was saying. As though she had not had her own dagger hidden on her person, nor the capability of wielding it. It was moments like this that had made the whole charade somewhat fun and amusing for Leyla. She did not find this offensive, mostly because it was easy to feel touched by the concern Hiran had and his desire to educate and inform her for her own wellbeing. She wondered what he would think, if he knew she had the very thing he taught her about within her possession. Then again, he probably would not think she could use it efficiently, and not at fault of his character. She never gave off the impression of having any skill or ability, so what else was he to expect of her? “ Please, go on. I know nothing of this topic. And I enjoy listening to the passions of others. ” It was easy to lie when there were grains of truth scattered within the falsities. While she knew a good deal about weaponry, she did enjoy hearing from others. She suspected as a knight he knew a great deal more than she about weapons, and even her pride could not keep her from admitting she could learn from him if given the chance. Though she doubted she could get any other opportunity, and besides — she did not want him to feel too terrible for showing concern for her wellbeing. When her own ego was put aside, she could only see the well meaning behind it.

” Only because you asked so politely, ” she quipped lightly, a teasing tone in her voice. Despite her own internal thoughts, Hiran was good company. Better than most, really. And he did provide a safety buffer as they traversed the city, something which she evidently needed while her home city was flooded with other nobles. Others that were too close to threaten exposure of her double life if she were not too careful. She could have been in a more complicated situation but instead he offered her a chance to feel at ease and comfortable. And it was no charade, to be a sweet girl on the hunt for sweets. Try as she may, she couldn’t escape the part of her nature that was girlish and youthful, not yet wounded by the darker realities of their world. Optimistic and hopeful. These were not such terrible things to be, especially when being escorted by a well known sword of the realm. “ Oh a great many. I believe you’ll find yourself enjoying the baklava, even with a lack of fondness for sweets. It’s the best in the city. ”

She was grateful for his willingness to hold the secret, but her smile faltered at his last words. Leyla sighed quietly, eyes on the route before them briefly. “ Yes, it can be quite irksome at times, ” she managed to keep her tone light. It was difficult to keep much from Nuray. She seemed to have eyes and ears everywhere. Or maybe she just knew Leyla so well, enough that she could see right through her. How she’d manage to keep much of her secrets from the older Altinsoy, she wasn’t sure. Maybe she hadn’t at all. Maybe this whole time Nuray was already onto her, simply allowing her to go on believing she was accomplishing some masquerade until it was no longer acceptable for her to do so. Not that she thought her sister would force her to stop anything; she did not imagine Nuray would ask her to stop doing the things she loved unless it would harm her or their family somehow. But still… “ It does feel suspiciously like she is able to read our minds. I used to wonder if it was some sort of rare and special ability, in the way that Firuze could enjoy the sun for periods of time. ” She winced a little at the thought, but her smile hadn’t faltered. The ache within at the thought of her other sister was dulling as the nights stretched but was still present. But she did not allow that to stop her now. “ Her uncanny observational skills aside, I am grateful for your discretion. At least.. With all that’s happened around us, I do not wish to worry her. There are enough troubling things happening in our realm to consume the mind of a council member, the last thing I would want is to burden her any further. I’m sure you can understand that. ”

They were rounding a bend and drawing closer to the bakery. She could smell the warm baked goods up ahead. Leyla figured she could cut him loose there, assure him of her safety. The jeweler she was to visit wasn’t so far beyond there, she wouldn’t need an escort for much longer. But there was another thought that came to mind, a curiosity she thought needed to be satisfied even if briefly. “ I heard a rumor about you recently, ” she started, speaking so casually while her mind was racing. “ Is it true that you took on a trainee of sorts from Braxigar? ” A flash of crimson crossed her mind, a pair of strange eyes in a square not too far from there, and an incident in another part of their hollow.

[wcnderingsovls]

ah, a poorly shrouded dismissal. rhyaenna would not fault lady altinsoy for wishing to be anywhere but there in that moment, but leyla had ventured too far into her web. she could not untangle herself now. "sit," rhyaenna said. she patted the spot to her right with her free hand before taking another long sip of her wine, nearly depleting this glass. "i am a dead woman walking, after all," lady caldrithen said, but her words were not laced with fear, but rather... amusement. a small smile curled her lips. her eyes sparkled like she was in on a secret that only she knew. "it is the least you could do."

setting the glass on the table, she refilled her drink and graciously poured a glass for lady altinsoy, whether she intended to drink with her or not. once she was done, she sat back in her seat with an uncharacteristic slump. keeping appearances was far from her mind, and she did not care how leyla perceived her in that moment. she looked at leyla and let the silence sit between them like a friend. finally, after a moment, she spoke: "do you tire of being pretty?" spoken so plainly it could only be taken as curiosity. no insult, nor intention to offend. "when people think that is all you are -- do you tire of it?"

[vainglcriousx]

Leyla did not move, not even as Rhyaenna informed her that giving her company was the least she could do. She had always strived to do more than the least where courtesy and kindness had been concerned, but Leyla wanted nothing more than to be gone from there. If she hadn’t taken a turn into that particular room… It was strange, to feel like a caged animal within her own home. In here, she was in her element. She knew every corridor, every passage, every room’s layout perfectly. And somehow the young Lady Caldrithen still managed to make her feel lost within her own domain. It infuriated her. Instead of taking the seat, Leyla crossed her arms over her chest and looked back at the woman sipping wine and glowing with her own private jests. She just didn’t understand her at all. “ Why that is quite the dramatic thing to say. Especially for one who could be on the verge of crown and glory. ”

When the glass was poured for her, Leyla’s shoulders dropped with a silent sigh. Despite herself and how much she disliked being in the presence of the other, manners had been hammered into her for a very long time. It was rude to not accept a drink being offered by a peer, and even more so to ignore the invitation to sit, especially when playing host. Smothering down her reluctance, she delicately lowered herself into the chair, keeping her elegant composure as she waited a moment before reaching for the glass. Holding it gently from the stem, she observed the other from the rim of her glass, brow creasing as Rhyaenna slouched in her seat. It was unbecoming of a noble to appear so, but it seemed strange for someone who was going after the crown. She thought if it were her then she would keep her chin up, appear confident and proud, let it be known to the others the kind of ruler they could expect seated upon the throne should she be the one crowned. But then again, what did she know of politics, or the exhaustion they gave one? Who was she to judge this woman?

The silence was strange. She expected the other to speak instantly, since she had insisted Leyla join her. When Rhyaenna finally broke the silence, it was not with the kind of words Leyla had been expecting. “ So you think I’m pretty? ” It was her turn to flash an amused grin at the other, taking a slow sip of the wine before placing it down. Her expression did not portray the complicated emotions that churned within. Leyla had struggled much with how she was perceived. Not because she cared entirely what others thought — she had been told at times to not put much stock into the opinions of others, and she tried to not measure her value on what they had thought of her. But she wanted to be much more than her place in society often dictated, and she hated when others placed much of her worth within her beauty and little else. Was it not this woman’s mother who only a couple moons ago spoke of such gratitude that her beautiful face had not be marred by the flames? That had bruised something sensitive within her at the time, and now as she silently reflected upon Rhyaenna’s question she felt the wound blossom anew. Was it just the intention of these Caldrithen women to press such a button within her, even unknowingly? “ Is that why you are pursuing the crown? ” She replied with a question of her own, choosing to avoid voicing her own truth to Rhyaenna. She could not recall sharing this insecurity with her closest friends, why would she tell her of all people?

[vainglcriousx]

setting: an ale room in the marketplace featuring: cihan dagdelen & lukesh tenelith @brntsgld

There were few places Cihan felt more out of place than within the crowded ale room of a tavern. The closest to such a place he had experienced before was the mess hall where the miners would congregate between shifts for a hearty meal and drink before retreating back into the depths and their work. The hum of conversation among the fellow workers of Nithiri’s mine was comfortable for him, a welcome buzz and noise, but here in this overcrowded tavern in the town outside of Elaris, the noise was deafening and uncomfortable. He had only stopped there because he needed a place to rest after walking through the city for the past couple hours, carrying parcels with scientific journals and manuals he found for sale within a shop of tomes and antiquities, and a few strange scraps of iron and other broken trinkets he’d thought could be used in building his next automaton. His arms were strong from years spent hacking away at stone with a pick axe, but even he needed the respite that a seat and a drink could give.

If he had given himself just a bit more time to weigh his options, Cihan would have continued the walk up to Elaris Keep instead of stopping there. Normally his timid side won out when the option to stop in somewhere brimming with others presented itself, but he also had a side that wanted to push himself to trying new experiences. He would normally never choose the path that came to the tavern’s door, but there he was, alone at a table in the corner, shoulders hiked up towards his ears and slouching over a cup with ale. Dreadful ale. He was not a fan of the drink, but then again he rarely consumed stronger beverages. Anything that could make him lose sense of himself, Cihan typically avoided. In all his thirty years of life, he had never once been drunk. And after one sip had confirmed the suspicion that he did not enjoy the taste, he decided to not pursue drinking more. So why was he still there? Something kept him rooted to the spot, what exactly he wasn’t sure. But it sure as hell was not the drink, and he gently pushed the glass away in favor of dismantling one of the contraptions he found while exploring.

As he sat there, eyes glued to the pieces of a broken toy bird, as well as the other scrap metals he found, he’d almost missed it as a rare familiar face found their way into the ale room as well. “ Lord Tenelith, ” he’d only said the name when the man had ventured close enough to hear, not one to raise his voice above a crowd he was so unfamiliar with. He had known the other lord in the way that he knew of other Vallarions — predominately by name, but with the caveat that they had a few times crossed paths within their hollow. On those rare occasions that Cihan had wandered beyond the borders of House Dagdelen’s domain. In the other he found a personality that had not grated upon his nerves, nor seemed unbearable or uneasy to get along with. And in that moment, where he was so far out of his element, Cihan could not help but find a sliver of relief in seeing a face that was familiar and friendly all at once.

“ Would you join me? ” The invitation was awkward and timid, unpracticed, as he motioned to one of the empty seats surrounding his table. “ I am out of my element, and could use the company. I believe this, ” he motioned around them, “ You are possibly more used to. Perhaps I can learn to be more at ease while in your presence. ” He wouldn’t admit a shortcoming to just anyone, it was a true testament to his being at least a little bit comfortable with Lukesh to make such a comment.

[talesinrequiem]

many siblings know each other their entire lives, but not many end up being the parental figure in that life. cihan, some days, was more like a son to him than a brother. dutiful and obstinate all in one go. cavit could remember the first time he took him to the mines, showed him the hard work their people had been doing. every advancement they had made was slowly explained in detail. just like any curious child, he needed to learn. needed to understand the ways of nithiri keep. a place that was dear to their family even as it grew smaller.

chuckling lightly, he watched as his brother caught up to what he had asked. the shock of surprise until a playful response was finally given. there it was. something they had been working on for years it seemed. a little light banter. willing laughter. some days the boy was so serious, even amongst those that would never judge or harm him. if there was one thing cavit knew he needed to do before he left this world, he had to make sure he lightened the other’s heart.

“oh come now, kardeş, we both know i work hard in that area,” he teased right back, leaning in his chair, a larger smile curving his features. “but not hard enough to be giving you any surprise yet. although, perhaps one day, we will both be surprised.” while his words remained lighthearted, the thought struck him as a true possibility. perhaps, with any luck.

soon enough he sighed out his good humor but never the simple enjoyment of his brother while he watched him. “sit with me for a time, i find myself contemplative.” cavit explained as he motioned with his head to the other seat near him. all of their other days it would have been filled by cem, a third pulled of for cihan but times clearly changed.

“which we both know is save for no one. perhaps you can temper my appetite with your clear logic?”

[vainglcriousx]

Much of their conversation was in jest, but it did not keep Cihan’s mind from venturing back to its natural state of stoic logic. The idea of a secret next generation of Dagdelens, or the threat of such a surprise, seemed unlikely. Not only because of their reclusive nature, but the birth rates in their land had been so low for some time now, it seemed illogical to think that a child surprise could happen. But further, the thought of welcoming an outsider, even one of noble birth, into their keep felt like a betrayal of their ways. Sure, there was an inevitable need to continue their line and legacy, but it was hard to imagine bringing someone else into their fold. How could anyone beyond them understand the importance of all they were building within? Cihan’s nose wrinkled at the thought of sharing such information with anyone. Did any of the others deserve to know what it was they had created?

“ Perhaps we can make a pact now that you give me ample warning, rather than a surprise. As we both know, I am not the best at accepting unexpected or frequent change, ” Cihan kept his tone light as he spoke, a small laugh in his voice even if he meant his words somewhat seriously. Unpredictability could wreck with the careful way he measured and calculated everything in his life, and he’d seen far too many unexpected terrors in his world lately to weather much more.

The request to sit down was met with a quiet nod, Cihan moving instantly to join his brother by taking the seat closest to him. That rare smile, meant only for the one before him, had found its way to the younger’s face, crinkling the corners of his eyes as a soft chuckle rolled through him. “ Dangerous indeed. I shall try my best to be an open and unbiased ear to whatever it is ruminating in your mind. ”

He spoke with the sort of devoted loyalty that a younger brother who had spent much of his life looking up to and admiring the elder possessed. As though he would spend all his life trying his best to earn the affection and approval of the other. Cavit did not withhold such things, Cihan always felt respected and cared for by the eldest Dagdelen. He only hoped to continue having an important place within the other’s life, even as outer forces threatened to change their ways. Or even when the ambition of the other threatened to spread them further across Nocturnia. How far was it between Moira and Nithiri?

That last thought hung in Cihan’s mind, clearing his throat as he straightened in his seat. “ Would your contemplations have anything to do with your bid for the crown? ” His voice lowered, almost conspiratorial in tone, as though there were other ears to listen in to the private conversation brewing between them. But there was no other soul in their chambers, not others to eavesdrop upon them. Cihan often spoke quietly, because he was used to less crowded halls and less velkynar to interact with, but in that moment another emotion was tempering his tone. Something he was unwilling to name.

[prophcsy]

For a while, seraphyna had simply wandered, the terrace had not been her destination any more than the gardens had been the night before. she had found herself seeking quiet corners of elaris keep whenever she could, places where conversation could not find her quite so easily. the night had been spent smiling when required, answering questions when necessary, and pretending she was not carrying a fresh wound beneath every layer of composure. she thought she had been successful enough. most people saw what they expected to see when they looked at her, a tethalune, a priestess, a woman of faith. not a woman nursing a broken heart. the desert stretched endlessly beyond the terrace, painted gold beneath the fading light. ordinarily she would have admired it, perhaps even prayed over it but today she merely looked.

it was only when a familiar voice reached her that her attention shifted from the horizon. silver eyes found evandris seated nearby and for the first time since arriving she realized she had not been alone, the observation drew the faintest hint of a smile to her lips. "i should have known i wasn't the first person searching for solitude." her gaze drifted briefly toward the parchment balanced upon his lap before returning to him once more. she had known evandris for years in the way noble families often knew one another, in gatherings or ceremonies and even celebrations. enough familiarity to recognize his habits and his temperament slowly she crossed the remaining distance, stopping beside the bench rather than immediately taking a seat. "and here i was thinking heliophra had finally run out of velkynar." the attempt at humor came softly, almost successful because something tired lingered beneath it. at the mention of becoming part of his sketch, the corner of her mouth curved faintly again. her gaze settled briefly on the city below. "i suspect i should feel honored. i imagine landscapes are far less troublesome subjects." for a moment she remained standing beside him, looking out across the dunes below. the warm wind stirred loose strands of caramel hair across her shoulder. "do you often draw my lord?"

[vainglcriousx]

“ Sometimes the more velkynar there are around, the more alone I wish to be, ” Evandris said quietly, pausing in his drawing to observe the view of the city before them. He had already begun blocking in Seraphyna’s form before she moved, having locked the exact imagine he wished to immortalize on paper that had included her in it. A landscape scene was always a joy to portray, but something about a lonely figure looking over the scene created a more evocative image. Evandris liked when art told a story, and there were many things to be said of this. Why was she there, staring over the city? Was she their guardian patron, keeping close watch? Or perhaps she was a lonely lover, awaiting a companion who would never come. There were many ways to portray the scene, all up to the viewer. The truth could be something entirely different, and only for the woman in the painting to know. “ Though normally I adore it, there are times where the company of a great many others can be rather wearisome, wouldn’t you say? ”

She had joined his side, but still lingered above, seemingly uncertain about joining him in sitting. Evandris did not mind this, but he still made space should she choose to sit. While he had not spent a great amount of time with Seraphyna, there was a calmness in her presence which did not make him eager to either push her away or even act particularly winsome. Sometimes he felt compelled to put on a face, to act a certain way, to the benefit of the other. Perhaps it was because he was so focused on the drawing that it kept him in a very mellow state of mind. But there was also the fact that he had grown weary even with himself as of late, left with so much uncertainty about the future and the state of his carefully designed little world, that he found himself more exhausted than normal. It was why he had chosen to sit there and draw, it was a way to shape himself back to form, to keep himself anchored to something that felt innately him during times where he felt lost even in his own skin. He bit back his comment on the fact they were in fact dwindling in numbers the more times they met. First with the majority of the chosen, then with Lady Firuze, and now most recently with Lady Garramoth, it seemed that velkynar were dying off more often than not. But she was right in some ways — even with that reality, it felt like there was always another of them lingering around the corner. “ Well, I hope my presence is not too much of a damper upon your ladyship’s evening,” he quipped, allowing a lopsided grin to take to his handsome features.

“ Perhaps wait until I am done the drawing to determine if you should feel honored or not. For all we know, I may not capture your visage well. ” But Evandris knew that was not the case. If he was good at anything, it was in capturing the likeness of others and places. It was why he was well known for portraiture, as well as his landscapes. But he preferred the challenge of capturing someone’s likeness, the joy at them seeing how beautiful they could be portrayed upon canvas when it is the right artist doing the work. “ But if you allow it, then I will attempt to do you justice, my lady. ” He returned to silence as he sketched, watching as the wind stirred her hair and trying to match the movement in a still image. Enough so that even just looking at the work could make the viewer feel that warm desert breeze. He lifted his eyes when she asked the question, not pausing a moment before replying, “ Only when something truly beautiful encourages me to capture it. ” It was the sort of eye roll inducing thing that a foppish charmer would say, and after a moment he added, “ And at almost all other times. Between art and music, I fear I am not myself if I am not creating. It is perhaps the one thing that can keep me anchored to my true self. ” He paused then, in speech and movement, as if to allow the truth to settle within, before he resumed drawing. “ So what is it that has Lady Tethalune seeking solitude? ”

[wcnderingsovls]

setting: the grand hall in elaris keep featuring: rhyaenna caldrithen & leyla altinsoy @vainglcriousx

the best-laid plans of mice and men often go awry.

until recently, rhyaenna had never placed much weight unto the age-old adage, for she had not known it to be true. her best-laid plans had always risen in her favor since she had meticulously calculated every possible outcome and eliminated the variables that would deter from the direction of her vision. but this plan — entering her name for crownwearer — had not been anticipated even by her. a spur of the moment decision, ushered forward by a tidal wave of emotions and an unforeseen betrayal at the hands of the woman she loved most in this world, would potentially uproot her life as she knew it. she knew she could withdraw her name at any moment, but rhyaenna would not live her life as a coward. if she was to take the reins of her fate, then she would first have to endure this outcome, whatever it would be.

and while she held her breath alongside all of nocturnia for the council's decision, she decided to pass the time the best way she knew how: by having a drink. it was not often rhyaenna indulged this way since she liked to keep her wits about her, but a few glasses of wine surely would not cloud her judgement. at the very least, no one else was within eyesight of her to witness the young caldrithen in her state, defenses lowering by the sip. only it seemed she had spoken too soon for she heard the pitter-patter of feet drawing into the grand hall before stopping short, likely because they had caught sight of rhyaenna. she looked over her shoulder and saw leyla before she could hurry away and beckoned her near with a wave of her half-drunken wine glass. "come, lady altinsoy," she said. "be a good host and share a drink with your guest."

[vainglcriousx]

Leyla was not entirely sure what to think of the event that drew the velkynar to Elaris Keep. There was a deep sense of pride to know that their home would be the stage of a momentous occasion such as the choosing of the next crownwearer. But in truth, she had not reconciled her own opinion of what was happening. The need for a crownwearer had not entirely dawned upon her. Politics had always felt like such a foreign concept. It had never been pressed upon her to have a serious opinion on the council or their rulings and decisions. That had been the concern of her elders, of those who were shouldered with a deeper burden of responsibility. She was not to worry herself over matters that ‘did not concern her’. Leyla was meant to enamor, she was to be a charming and sophisticated and wholly inconsequential piece of the puzzle, just something to dazzle and nothing more. So even with all that was happening in her own home, she feared the fact that she held no singular opinion on the choice that was to be made.

While she did not dwell too hard upon the choice of crownwearer, there was one puzzlement to it all. Of the names that had been announced to the court, those who dared to reach for glory and power, was one that had caused her to stop and ponder. Rhyaenna Caldrithen. Others she thought made some sense; some were heirs or ruling lords of their houses, members of the council, or had initially been part of the chosen for the most recent selection. They had proud reputations as leaders, had perhaps proven their mettle otherwise. Rhyaenna had crossed Leyla as being nothing like the lot. She did not seem particularly strong, or admirable, and Leyla could not recall a moment where she saw the woman displaying any sort of ability to lead and care for others.

After much puzzlement, Leyla reasoned that it was perhaps her own personal opinions of the other young lady which kept her from seeing Rhyaenna’s bid for the crown as viable. The last time they crossed paths, the young Lady Caldrithen had proven to be insulting. She always seemed to shove Leyla aside as being insignificant or uninteresting. She had gone as far as telling her that she saw Leyla as simple. It had wounded her deeply. Perhaps she was simple. Perhaps that was why the comment had bothered her so much. She had never lived a life of deeper significance. Even when she tried to go out of her way to help others, to lift them up from their misfortune. Or when she donned armor that was not hers to wear, and pretended to be someone she was not meant to be. With all her attempts at finding some alternate meaning for her existence, had Leyla ever been more than what could be seen from the surface?

When she saw Rhyaenna in the grand hall, she was not eager to approach. The woman seemed at peace in her solitude, and she was not eager to end up in another uncomfortable confrontation. Besides, there were others to greet. She had friends within these halls. There were far more interesting people she could talk to. Yet she could not escape. Her scurry was too loud, her steps echoing through the marble antechamber. She paused and closed her eyes, not too eager for whatever was to come, but she mustered that strength which made her brutal in the ring and turned to face the other woman head on. She could not smile when her amber eyes found Rhyaenna.

It was a moment before she moved, slowly walking across the way until she stood before Rhyaenna. “ Lady Caldrithen, ” she greeted, her voice even and tone proper. “ But you look so at ease on your own. I could not possibly intrude upon your solitude. I’m sure you have much on your mind. ” She motioned loosely around, “ But I do hope you’re comfortable within my home. I would like to extend the same hospitality unto your house as you did when we last congregated in Celembron. ”

[aenaos]

Hiran swallowed the reply that formed bitterly on his tongue. Those had not been men of honor. They had been inebriated before midnight and had carried weapons for nefarious purposes. He knew of merchants who wore blades at their hips, but their attire had been too slovenly for such a public profession, the padded armor beneath their vestments revealing men familiar with violence. If he were to venture a guess, they were enterprising robbers at best, mercenaries with an appetite at worst. The former would have earned them a quick beating; the latter, a breadth of steel between their ribs. His blood sang at the thought. Some part of him still wished to turn, search them out, and discover their intentions himself. These streets ought to have been safe at this time of night. How could the Altinsoy safeguard the hollow if they could not even sweep the debris out of their own city?

Dismissing his desires, Hiran looked at Lady Leyla with faint concern. “Perhaps you are right,” he lied. “Even so, you were wise to be careful. One should always stay on guard. Though I cannot take full credit; it was your quick thinking that got you away from whatever they had intended for you.” Hiran quickly took her in—the fine material of her dress, the way she gleamed like a jewel in the dark. No wonder she had stood out. He watched the twinkle in her eye and thought it suited her quite prettily. He knew little of the youngest Altinsoy’s character, but she had always seemed quick to smile and eager to charm.

When she scoffed, the gesture reminded him, oddly, of Luz. His heart slightly softened at the thought. “You are no child, no.” Though he could not deny she was so young in his eyes, the same way Aeliana would forever be a girl to him. Softness such as this hurt him far more than any cruelty ever could. How easily the world soiled the petals of those who dared bloom. How easily innocence was plucked and crushed. “But in dangerous times such as these, I would advise anyone against traveling alone.” His voice was soft, yet touched by melancholy. Buried beneath it, untold pain. “Or without any form of protection.” As he spoke, he could feel the temporary distraction fading. Already he felt the familiar howling sorrow pulling at him, and with it, the thought of her, who lived within him like a shard of glass, ever bleeding.

He could not even think her name.

And so, he found himself stepping forward, offering his arm. “Perhaps I could escort you, my lady? I am in no hurry, and I would feel better knowing you arrived at your destination safely.” After all, was this not why he had done what he had? To return to his vows and purpose? Protect the innocent. Be their shield. He now held onto these ideas as a drowning man clutched driftwood. He tried his best smile. “I promise not to be a bother.”

It would be easier to attend to these small courtesies, to do what was expected of him.

[vainglcriousx]

His complimenting of her wit had been the only thing to cure the shred of offense that cut through her as concern returned to his gaze. She had to continually remind herself of the image she had curated for herself at court. Was it not by design that she had insisted on being nothing more than the pretty little thing of House Altinsoy? If he had seen her as fragile, then he was not to blame. No matter the existential crisis her own purpose in life had sometimes given her, Leyla had been determined to keep up her own charade. That meant she could not boast of her strength or her agility, nor the might with sword she had spent the better part of the last several years honing in secret. Even if it meant leaning upon a noble knight and being lectured on the dangers of traveling alone. Her own concealed dagger pressed against her side, a reminder of what she could have done had she been truly left alone with the loitering men.

“ My sister taught me some things, ” she lied, though it was likely believable that Nuray, who was far more capable and a daring fighter in her own right, had at least impressed upon the younger to be cautious and smart when in potentially dangerous situations. But thinking of her family then brought the wearisome thought of what would happen if her sister or parents knew about what had taken place in this alley when she was left to her own devices. Safe or not, she thought it was likely they would worry. After having lost a member of their family recently, could even the smallest possibility of something having happened to her cause enough distress for them to reinforce protections and restrictions that would impede upon her freedom? “ But perhaps we should not dwell too hard upon what else could have occurred. You were there, and the combination of my quick wit and your intimidating presence has saved either of us a distressing night. ”

Her brow furrowed at the strange shift in his tone. Beneath the lecturing words seemed to be another emotion, something that bordered upon a sadness she could not understand. It seemed for a moment that Hiran was distant, focused elsewhere, and Leyla was beginning to think his words were not just directed at her. “ A form of protection, ” she hummed, her eyes dropping to the sword he wore at his hip. A longsword, the craftsmanship likely similar to the one she had pilfered from her family’s armory when she started her secret masquerade. It had brought a faint smile to her face, one she swiftly wiped away. “ I take it that means something long and pointy? ” She spoke with a naivety and indifference meant to show how ill suited the concept was to her. As though holding such a weapon would be so foreign in her dainty little hands. Hands that held small and faint scars of their own, whose stories she held close to her chest and locked away from the others.

“ I shall take your advisement under consideration, ” Leyla said, rather diplomatically, and tried not to wince as she continued, “ Despite what I may think, it is evident that you are right. ” As he offered his arm, she chose to beam pleasantly at him, lacking any hesitation as she took his invitation. “ If it will put you at ease, then who am I to decline such an offer? But you will be at the mercy of my whims. After such an excitement, I fear a treat is needed to stave off the anxiety. Are you fond of baked goods, my lord? I was actually en route to a wonderful bakery before our run in, and it could be a way for me to show my gratitude for your help. ”

Without waiting for his answer, Leyla was already urging him up the laneway towards the very place in question. Perhaps if they were to return to places more civilized, the concern of what almost occurred would dissipate and the entire situation would be forgotten. At least, that was her hope. Before she could commit to such a plan, however, a thought had occurred to her. While she was unsure of it exactly, it would not surprise her to learn that Hiran was an acquaintance of her sister. With their positions in society, it would make sense. Worrying her lip between her teeth, a nasty habit as her former governess would say, she turned back to Hiran after a short moment. ” You… You will not tell my sister about what almost occurred here today, will you? ”

[vainglcriousx]

setting: the marketplace, just beyond elaris keep featuring: evandris elarion & cai elarion @springscngs

While his things had been taken to the chambers within Elaris Keep assigned to Morkhul’s ruling house, Evandris Elarion had not spent much time within the keep. Aside from a few instances where his presence was either required (mostly at the behest of his Lord Father and Lady Mother) or when he tried to secure some solitude (which had been easier within the keep than in the city nearby), the eldest Elarion had been mostly seen in and around the marketplace, ingratiating himself into spaces that felt less proper for one of noble blood such as himself. He always took much pleasure from being with commoners, had believed he had some sort of camaraderie with them. Of course, when you were drunk and singing songs in taverns it was easy to believe you were among friends. It was the freedom at being “normal” or free of the supposed restrictions being part of the upper class entailed which made him flee to such spaces.

He hardly registered that he could never belong to such a world, but that hadn’t really mattered. Lately, the world he did in fact belong to felt impossible to feel safe within. Death followed the velkynar closely, bookending almost every season. The stench of it clung desperately to the nobility. It was less suffocating away from the grand halls and parlor rooms wherein the courtly velkynar presided. And it served as less of a reminder of what was eagerly awaiting them during their time in Heliophra. The question of who would be crowned and occupy the empty throne within his beloved Moira Castle was not awaiting him at the bottom of a pint of ale. That existed elsewhere, in the council infested Elaris Keep but not here, where he roamed a city that was alight with the excitement of having visitors more so than the pending news.

Wandering down laneways which were as packed with goods for sale as they were bodies, Evandris was slow and deliberate in his travel. He took the time to stop at practically every vendor lining the street, taking care to observe each of their wares for a prolonged amount of time, to ask them questions and to hear all about their expertises and histories. He was losing himself in every minuscule detail of every thing he glanced over, but when he looked up and saw a familiar head of curls also wandering through the vendors, all of his attention shifted almost instantly. It was with a nod that he greeted his brother, the moment their eyes had met across the busy street. Embodying the overconfident lord he was, Evandris easily shouldered his way to Cai’s side, shaking his head slowly. “ Don’t tell me you too needed to flee from our parents’ watchful eyes, ” he spoke with the teasing tone that he typically wore around others. As though nothing that had happened, neither now or in the past, was of great consequence to him. As though nothing weighed heavily upon his mind, nor threatened his charming and unbothered existence. “ So what have you found during our time in Heliophra, brother — anything of interest to report? I fear I’ve nearly been hoodwinked into purchasing some dastardly overpriced jewelry myself, and have yet to find good ale. ”

[talesinrequiem]

where. elaris keep - dagdelen rooms who. cavit dagdelen & cihan dagdelen @vainglcriousx when. the forgotton world

deep pools of darkness flecked with green watched the windows quietly, it had been, perhaps, a little more than a week since stepping foot in heliophra. the dagdelen rooms becoming a lack luster home away from home for the time being. it was a moment that did not find cavit in good spirits. his scarred fingers carefully traced the rings that were chosen for the trip. each showcasing just what he wished them to. just enough to cause any hungry tongue to waggle.

there had been a death just before the new dance had begun. so soon after the chosen were taken, the tree was burned, and they were forced back into their own hollows and lands. not that he had complained, in truth it had given him time to decide his next move. which was of course, to go after the coveted thrown. perhaps it had seemed as if it came easily to him. as if he just blinked and made the decision.

after returning to nithri keep, it had taken time to come to the choice. many options needed to be weighed. there were only two of their house left, including himself. cavit had a duty to make sure there was an heir to at least one of them. someone to come after they were bones to be ground into dust. while he had many a lover, there had been no urge to go further and marry one. with any luck perhaps he had fathered a child he didn’t know about… but what was luck?

hearing movement behind him, he turned and caught the sight of cihan. warmth filled him at seeing his younger brother, perhaps closer to a son in the long run with how long him and his twin had raised him from a boy to the man he was. “cihan,” he greeted softly, looking to garner his attention. he made motion with his hand for the other to come close, “you wouldn’t happen to have a child i haven’t met – would you?” there was humor laced in his words, knowing full well that despite his best efforts, perhaps the younger dagdelen wasn’t well versed in the carnal delights. he simply wished to tease the other. lighten the mood for the both of them.

“with how things seem to be going among the hollows, it might be best if we confirm our legacies before the end of this… meeting or whatever we may call it.”

[vainglcriousx]

There was serenity to the silent darkness that enveloped him. Cihan did not shy from quiet. He found a great comfort in what silence could bring — no distractions, the perfect space for reflection and deep thought. Most of his life was spent within his own mind, in rich and broad thoughts and yearnings. Growing up in isolation meant he preferred the company of a select few, and of those he most cherished spending time with there had only been one to survive the recent horrors that befell Nocturnia. As he sat quietly, bent over a desk covered in papers, themselves littered in equations and blueprints mapping out the intricate mechanics and inner workings of another idealistic automata design, and illuminated by the warm glow of two burning candles, he couldn’t help but wonder what this silent space would have been like had Cem been with them.

It was not that Cavit was not personable — his elder brother was perhaps charisma personified as far as Cihan had been concerned. He could command the attention of others in a way the more studious and shy younger brother could not. But as their family dropped down to just the two of them, there was a chilling thought which lingered in the mind. They were being pushed to near extinction, a fact that did not sit right with the power they wielded. Perhaps it humbled the moments between them, caused for much silent and inner monologue. The outcome of this bid for a crown which Cavit followed could land their house in several scenarios. Ideally, it meant they gained more power and control, but there was the fear that more death lay at the end of the troubled road the brothers had been traveling. If Cavit met the same demise as their other brother… then Cihan would be left completely alone. It was an outcome he was not prepared for.

A sigh, as soft as summer’s breeze, fell from his parted lips as Cihan leaned back in the chair. He felt a strain in his wrist and began flexing and rotating the joint. He had been writing for far too long, and the chair creaked under his shifting weight. It had caught the attention of the other figure standing silently a short distance away. It was not until he heard his name that Cihan lifted his gaze, brown eyes speckled with green finding similar ones across the way. When beckoned, it was not with much argument that the younger set aside his quill and lifted his strong frame off his seat. Much like an obedient son, he adhered to the call of the elder Dagdelen, but he took a moment to stare out the window, curious as to what had held his brother enraptured moments ago. “ Cavit? ” his voice was soft but gravely, the low rumble of distant thunder.

The question did not immediately dawn upon Cihan, having become just slightly engrossed in a dark silhouette ambling aimlessly in the courtyard below. A drunk noble trying to find their way back into the keep it would seem. “ Hm, a child, ” the slow nod was a recognition of the word until the sentence had finally settled on him. With wide eyes, Cihan’s head snapped back to his brother, gaping back at the incredulous question as he searched Cavit’s expression. “ What? ” He barked out in response. The humor was clear the longer he looked at Cavit, marks of teasing jest on his brother’s face quickly evident to the younger. It had not stopped the reddening of his cheeks or ears at being teased as such.

Clearing his throat, Cihan lifted his chin and swept his gaze back to the darkness below. “ But of course, ” he started, attempting a joking tone that was not as proficient as his brother. He was typically so serious, but he was known to let loose with Cavit and Cem. They were the safety wherein Cihan could experiment and try at new things and personas without being judged. “ A number of them, actually. You have shirked your uncle duties for too long, I fear. ” The grin that broke out upon his face was boyish, making him appear young and unbothered. As though their family’s dwindling numbers were just fodder for jest and no deep concern. “ Come now, abi, do not tease me so. You know me incapable of hiding such a large secret from you. ”

“ Is this your terrible way of leading in to a reveal of your own? ” Cihan asked curiously, wishing to avoid more teasing and jest at his expense. His arms crossed over his chest, brows pulled together in a mixture of curiosity and concern. “ Am I to expect a new sibling-in-law and littler Dagdelens to be invited to our keep, or are you just trying to get a fretful reaction from me for your own amusement? ” The warmth in his face still persisted from the initial embarrassment from before, though he hoped it wasn’t so obvious. Cavit knew him well, knew of his naivety in certain respects. His hands had always been built for crafting and smelting more so than tenderness, what good could they do if holding onto the soft form of a lover? His cheeks burned at the thought alone.

[aubadement]

𝖜𝖍𝖔: taemris morvaen && OPEN [2/4] 𝖜𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖊: vague enough, somewhere within elaris keep 𝖜𝖍𝖊𝖓: within 48hrs of hollows/houses arriving

.✦ ݁˖ ⸻ Similar to the last gathering, where they were forced to linger in close chambers while madness and undeath lurked, Taemris placed as much distance as one could before it could be translated as fleeing from obligation. His things were placed within the chambers designated for House Morvaen and before Marya and he could even plausibly discuss such fetid turn of events, Taemris disappeared into the blinding hues of gold and ivory. Even amidst the blankets of dark which housed their kind as velkynar, the sharp brilliance of Heliophra was unnerving. Elaris Keep was built fragile as glass yet had withstood time as resilient as stone; an anomaly within itself yet something to be respected.

Taemris sat within the sanctuary of night, perched within a low hanging branch. Silence had overtaken him and only thing which broke through such stillness had been the occasional thwack of his throwing knife hitting the tree bark opposite of him. It sprayed in small splinters, dusting the ground beneath it. When footsteps resounded off the path leading to his little alcove of peace and solitary, Taemris did not pause his target practice; the knife now diving into the ground, nestling just between the two feet of that who had approached.

It was not entirely a warning, but a silent reminder that whoever felt it wise to break his solitary make it worthwhile.

[vainglcriousx]

Peace was profoundly underrated in such crowded spaces. Say what you would about the unorthodox reclusive nature of Nithiri Keep, at the least they could boast the ability to find plentiful space for one to be alone to their thoughts and innermost feelings. Cihan had been a new face to crowded grand halls and tea rooms, and, while his visage appeared to be a kind one, he was noticeably weary the longer he was in the presence of the court. Elaris Keep, while large and mighty, was not entirely meant to house such a multitude of velkynar, and her nearby city was practically bursting at the seams with bodies. The heat that rolled around was unbearable, sinking beneath the ornate green, gold and black doublet and robes that hung from his broad shoulders. He found himself often tugging at his collar, as if he could free the heat and welcome in the cool evening desert air. But this had done little to stave off the warmth which seemed to radiate off the sands and her people.

Wandering down wide corridors flanked by pillars and marble statues, Cihan ignored most of the splendor wrapped around him in favor of seeking an escape route, one that was not already occupied by others. He had already stumbled awkwardly into lovers holding clandestine meetings in sky gardens, or among those with sharp gazes and tongues theorizing what lay ahead in hushed tones. Their glances held a modicum of curiosity when the youngest Dagdelen passed by — a house shrouded in equal parts mystery and grief after what the recent moons had taken from them. Cihan did not show either his pain at having lost a brother, or how he felt of the other following along the same death strewn path. His expression remained devoid of much emotion, simply green-brown eyes seeking some respite.

When he had found that path, it was seemingly the most isolated avenue within the keep’s grounds, no sign of another upon the trail. He hadn’t even listened for the thud of knife upon wood, a howling desert wind that had carried sand fogging both his sight and hearing. He had also had his gaze aimed downwards upon the yellowed pages of a tome who's cloth binding was frayed, the gold embossed title practically rubbed off the spine. Treatise Of The Astrolabe had been written with bold script on the title page, and Cihan thumbed eagerly through the book as he walked down the narrow path. He had been curious about their astronomical measurements, after looking over some of the star charts within Elaris Keep’s library. He had thought their calculations looked a bit off, and finding a manual describing how the Heliophran astrolabe was made and used seemed like a good starting point for his sudden fixation with their shortcomings in this particular field. At least, it created a good distraction while they waited for the council to end the mystery and pageantry and tell them who was to wear the crown. The sooner such announcements were out of the way, the sooner he could return to his workbench and many unfinished studies and projects.

‘ Thyn Astrolabie hath a ring to putten on the thombe of thi right hond in taking the height of thinges. And tak kep, for from henes forthward —‘

Thump.

Stopping in his tracks, Cihan glanced away from the passage he had been skimming momentarily to look below and found a knife rooted in the earth between his boots. With one arched dark brow, he glanced upwards to see the figure perched in the low branch. He did not see a friendly face in the moonlight, but kept his expression mild as he carefully side stepped the blade. If the other velkynar would not voice his intention, then Cihan chose to do the same, merely moving forward into the small clearing and finding a spot against a tree (unmarked by throwing knife) to lean upon while looking up at the stars between reading. Unless this liege was of House Altinsoy (which seemed unlikely), he chose to remain calm and still, not allowing the knife toss to offend him. It was not the other’s place to claim, after all.

[vainglcriousx]

—(••÷  [   DENIZ CAN AKTAŞ   ,   CISMAN   ,   HE/HIM   ]   in  the  darkness  you  arrive  ,    it   seems   CIHAN  DEVLET DAGDELEN  has  emerged  from  malriths  embrace.   the   LORD OF NITHIRI KEEP,   brings  with  them  such  passion  in  their  wake  and  they  are  known  for  being  ADROIT  but  also  NARROW-MINDED. the  bloodmoon  shines  when  the  THIRTY  year  old  joins  the  war.  what  songs  would  be  sung  in  their  name  ?  [  DUST TO DUST   +   THE CIVIL WARS   ]  for  in  the  decades  to  come  they  will  speak  of  :  a work bench littered with notes and blueprints of unfinished creations that you swear someday will change the world, ever present coal dust staining and seeping in through your skin, lungs, and bones, the echoing song of pickaxes striking stone through the dark tunnels below calling you back to your true home.  may  your  journey  bring  fruit ,  welcome  to nocturnia  forgotten  one. 

GENERAL

FULL NAME: cihan devlet dagdalen (pron. jee-HAHN) NICKNAME(S): nope AGE/DATE OF BIRTH: 30, mm/dd GENDER: cisman PRONOUNS: he/him RESIDENCE: vallarion, nithiri keep

BIOGRAPHY

Triggers: death mention, please tell me if I missed smth

“ ʜᴇ ᴡʜᴏ ᴡᴀɴᴛꜱ ᴛᴏᴏ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ʟᴏꜱᴇꜱ ᴀʟʟ ”

It is often said that one of the most deadly sins a man can commit is that of avarice. That burning desire to acquire more wealth and power could very well rip even the most righteous of men apart. Warnings of such a dangerous fate were plentiful and widespread throughout Nocturnia, but there was no hall who seemed less keen to heed such words than within Nithiri Keep. Nestled against mountains and isolated from the world beyond their dominion, it is the very chair of avarice in this mortal realm. Rapacity had long poisoned the blood of Dagdelen, seeping back into the rock from which their unfathomable and seemingly infinite treasure lay. From within the bowels of the earth they had found it, that plentiful strain of precious metal and stone which no other had access to. Such control warped the perception and desires of man, and soon enough they were locking themselves away from the rest of the world. For in the warnings against greed, Dagdelen had heard a different cautionary tale: be wary of the envy that takes root in those that would covet what is rightfully yours.

The first time Cihan Devlet Dagdelen was overwhelmed by the insatiable appetite of his forefather’s greed was seemingly from the very moment he first opened his eyes to this world. He had entered it much like any other green eyed monster — sucking dry the hand that had fed him until he had everything they could offer. Or so it must have been, since it had been his fault their mother would not live to see another season. Before the baby was even placed into the waiting hands of the Ruling Lord of Nithiri Keep, her ladyship had already grown cold and limp, the last of her life force given in order to shepherd another son of Dagdelen to the land of the living. While her loss would be felt, it did not serve to blemish the joy of having a third son to carry on the proud and strong legacy House Dagdelen had spent years cultivating. They had already been blessed with an heir who was growing well into the role of calculating and cunning future leader, and with a mirror image which burned with the same fire of ambition. How wonderful, to have another to help them further amass wealth and power as he grew. Even though his lordship had only persisted a few more years before joining his beloved into what lay beyond this life, it was not before beginning to instill the importance in what they had and could continue to cultivate within their enigmatic keep. And so Cihan knew from an early age that nothing could be as important as the influence and riches one could reap.

While his early youth was marked by the tragedy that losing one’s parents so young naturally came with, Cihan did not see much reason to fret. In the wake of losing their father, he had still been left with two elder brothers who had already entered adulthood and were prepared to help him walk through life. They had already experienced what was necessary to grow into a proper Dagdelen man, and he followed dutifully in the path Cavit and Cem had left marked for him. They had been the ones to teach him how to read and write, of refinement and how ti be personable even when they lived a very reserved lifestyle. They taught him how and when to fight, when it was better to use words over fists, and all the ways he could best a man beyond steel and grit. He had grown to be proud, to see himself as above many others, but not to eve particularly rude. Their way of life meant community, it meant harboring a close relationship with those that lived within their domain. And so as a young man he learned to be diplomatic and collaborative where it had mattered, which had lead him eventually to following that path into the mountain pass.

It was not long after that Cihan had been introduced to that which testified to Dagdelen’s great prowess: the mines which cut into the earth. Dark, boiling hot tunnels coated in rock and stone which hid a great treasure beneath the crust. But it was not for him to solely observe the bedrock of their fortune. Cihan’s adolescence had been carved by the strike of a pickaxe, pulling the roughness way to make room for the diamond within. Starting from the moment he was deemed old enough to work, he had joined the line of laborers marching in and out of those caverns every night, tools in hand, prepared to do the hard work and add to the load. It was as much to appreciate that which fueled the luxurious existence they lead as it had been for him to intimately understand exactly how the family cultivated their wealth. How could he be expected to protect their bounty if he did not see first hand the struggle it was to harvest and refine it? It was within those tunnels he’d gone from boy to man, his body growing strong and strewn with the muscle one grew from spending hours lifting large rocks overhead and making powerful strikes against the tough earth. But this had not been the only part of him he’d spent the next decades exercising and growing at the benefit of his family’s ambitions.

Much like any other great household in Vallarion could likely boast, Nithiri Keep was not devoid of harboring immeasurable knowledge. Not just because of the plentiful scrolls and tomes which lined the walls — there was another great knowledge that was held captive within the heavily fortified walls of their keep which the rest of Nocturnia did not possess. The mechanical wonders, innovative creations, which were whispered about in awe in the lands beyond their border. It was what truly set House Dagdelen apart from the others, what made their home so safe and separate from even the rest of Vallarion. Their wealth and resources had given way to an ability to build and create things that the others could barely fathom. Structures of complicated engineering which had kept their fortress safe from the outside world, protected their hoard from those that would covet from it. These were party’s of his every day reality, for as long as he could remember, created at the hands of Dagdelens that came before him. 

This had been the part of the family legacy which Cihan had particularly adhered to. While Cavit and Cem would be the leaders, paving a path for Dagdelen to gain more power and riches from the court and beyond, Cihan saw a different avenue for acquiring more to satiate their hunger. Those great inventions which had kept them leagues ahead of the outside world, and would no doubt be greatly desired by it. And so while he’d spend half his night working his body to near exhaustion in the depths, he would then spend the other filling his mind with all the knowledge at his coal dusted fingertips until he could merge the two and become the next great innovator of House Dagdelen. Time was no longer on their side, immortality in its traditional sense not something they could achieve. But that hadn’t meant House Dagdelen couldn’t live forever. When all had been said and done, and they all returned to dust and bone, at the very least Dagdelen’s creations could still exist, a legacy that would outlast all of them for millennia to come. As long as they continued to create things that had some bearings in life, that continued to make the day to day efficient and changed the very way they existed. Even if it was hoarded within Nithiri Keep, if they could continue to innovate ways to further cement their independence and proud reputation, then they would outlive the rest in relevancy. Cihan became a fervent student, eagerly beginning a path of learning and creation as he embarked on a journey to discover what exactly could change the very way of life as they knew it.

He could have continued living in the bliss that his isolated existence granted him, huddled within the keep with his two brothers who had been more like parental figures than siblings, smithing and mining alongside them until the very end of time… But life had different plans. Despite their reticent nature, and having practically everything one could want within reach, House Dagdelen had always desired one thing: riches, and lots of it. Whatever they could do to get their hands on that which they coveted, they did without complaint, all in the name of power and greed. When the throne became vacant, such a desire soon became the forefront of all focus within Nithiri as an opportunity seemed to fall squarely into their lap. They had always wondered what belonged to the Crownwearer of Nocturnia. What treasures would be within the grasp of the one who held such a title? How could they capitalize upon that and earn even more? There had only been one way to discover the answer to such a question. When Cem had been chosen to represent Vallarion, it seemed practically destined. Who else should usher the velkynar into a new era other than one of the very men who were already seemingly living in its future? No place could be as safe as Nithiri, and it was because of all the treasures that they had amassed and the innovations that they had built. Perhaps now they could show the others exactly what made House Dagdalen so powerful, and why they deserved to have even more. 

Even though it had not been written within his stars to fight for that honor, Cihan had so willing done what had always felt so impossible, choosing to venture past Nithiri Keep for the first time in his three decades of life in order to accompany his elder brothers to the Dance of the Chosen. The immense pride he had in a brother so worthy of being a king had Cihan leaving all he had ever known behind for the chance to see exactly what the world and life beyond the keep had looked like. And while he had not been overly impressed by what he had seen in Morkhul, he stood there beside Cem so willingly with warm smiles he would so rarely gift a stranger. All to see his brother rise to the occasion and take that crown they had set their sights on for years, to write a new and joyous chapter in the Chronicle of House Dagdelen.

What he had not expected was the carnage that awaited them in Moira, nor the darkness that settled into their starlit world in the months since.

Death may have been a commonality of his world since youth, but nothing had prepared Cihan for the deep and profound sorrow that would follow seeing his dear brother slain. It had been wholly unexpected, something that had never dawned upon any of them as a possibility. There in the castle that was the epicenter of velkynar life in Nocturnia, the supposed seat of a king, that such a danger could sweep in undetected and leave the proposed best of them broken and battered on the floor. Even as the council assured that they were seeking answers, and as similar tragedies began to befall others in court as the days rolled onward, it had all served to remind Cihan of one particular truth: the world beyond Nithiri Keep was not as safe as the one they cultivated within. A bitter truth that kept him unsure about ever leaving their walls again when the council continued knocking upon the doors of the noble houses and urging them to meet again and again. No, he would have been more than pleased to stay within the comfort of their heavily guarded home, to keep the last remnants of their powerful house safe from the terrors that existed beyond… Until avarice and ambition took root and demanded another champion from within their ranks.

It seemed Cavit wanted to follow through with what Cem had set in motion, and Cihan would be powerless to stop him. For what could stand between a Dagdelen man and the chance at power and infamy?

And so Cihan has left the obscurity of his enigmatic and fortified home, his face becoming more of a commonality among the nobles congregating across Nocturnia despite the reclusive nature of their ilk. It is not with an eagerness that he explores the world beyond his front gate, but out of a pure necessity. All living creatures have a great hunger, something inside that is not so easily satiated and that they would have to spend their life chasing satisfaction for. House Dagdelen was gluttonous when it came to that hunger, eagerly feasting on all they could get their hands upon. Greed was likely to consume and take them. And while Cihan wants to see his family continue amassing and rising in power, he doesn’t wish to see what is left of their House crumble beneath their ambition. And so he follows Cavit into the darkness, into the great unknowns that exist outside the comfort and safety of Nithiri. He is as desperate for answers as he is desperate to keep the last shreds of their House together, and he is determined to use his brilliance and innovation to keep any more terrors from falling upon them. 

If only he could find a way to create something that would ensure their safety, ensure they outlast whatever terrors await them at the end of this ambitious pursuit. Until then, he tinkers away at the fringe of society, watching and consuming knowledge from the rafters to always remain one step ahead of the others and the dangers that pursue them. 

HEADCANONS

Like the family’s reputation suggests, Cihan has lived his life primarily in isolation, has never really ventured past Vallarion’s borders or much less beyond the edge of their dominion of Nithiri. There was never a need to. What Nithiri Keep has is presumably all they need to live and exist, and that’s why they are so closed off. They don’t require much from others — the others covet what they have, and their power is in being able to control that distribution and determine the price for it. So why venture too far from the comfort and luxury of their keep when they have so much right there? As such, he doesn’t know very many people. Most of his interactions are the first time he’s meeting others, experiencing being surrounded by so many who are perhaps not of the same mind or experiences as him. It’s the strangest and most overwhelming part of being outside of home.

Kind of a big and strong shy nerd type — he’s an intellectual man who has also spent most of his life performing manual labor and growing strong and broad as a result. Physically he probably resembles a fighter, tall with a muscular physique, but he is most often found thumbing through tomes and scrolls, incredibly at ease in solitude within a library. He likes to read, mostly he likes to study the plans and manuals great innovators of the past have written of their work and apply that knowledge towards building new things. But he likes to gain any sort of knowledge he can, and is a wealth of very random facts as a result of constantly studying something new.

He is intelligent but that is mostly book smarts. Since he’s not been out in the world much, Cihan is not exactly street smart. ( In the DnD terms, high int low wis. ) There’s a naivety to him in that case — he understands fundamentally how things work but he doesn’t entirely understand how the world works both socially and in reality, and he most certainly doesn’t really get how others think. But he isn’t soft as a result of the naivety. He’s observant, carefully measured. He’s a quick learner, and has a burning curiosity that leads him to try and consume as much new information as possible.

With that being said, I do believe he does have the tendency to be very narrow-minded, and very stubborn in his ways and thoughts. The greed and pride that fills his house, the intellect he’s developed from years spent studying and learning, and the likelihood that he’s been living in a bit of an echo chamber within the reclusive community of Nithiri Keep, means Cihan often believes he is right, and he’s stubborn in such beliefs. To a fault, he will rarely listen to the advisement of others and instead go his own way. In fact, unless it’s his brother giving him advice he would sooner roll his eyes at another than really heed their words. And so he’s reluctant to admit when he’s ever wrong, more likely to suggest that he ‘slightly miscalculated’ when leading himself or others astray. He swears he is aware of every probable outcome when he sets anything in motion, approaches unpredictability as a failed hypothesis rather than fault of his own.

He is not gregarious, a result of being sequestered in the keep for thirty years. In fact, he can be rather shy and a bit aloof or distant at first. But this doesn’t mean he’s entirely obtuse where social interaction is concerned. Nithiri isn’t just the family — they have their own community of common folk too, and there are those that work in the mines which he spent years working beside. He knows how to work and get along with others when it’s required. He also knows how to be cordial and is mostly so, he’s just not very bubbly or overtly social. He’s very careful about what parts of himself he shares with others, and not very eager to open up or get to know other velkynar so easily. Cihan will at the least treat others with a grace and respect he thinks every velkynar is afforded the right to have, at least as much as he can when he is being a bit shy. But he doesn’t always keep up that cordiality if he feels the other person no longer deserves it. In fact, if he’s rubbed the wrong way, he’s more likely to ignore that other person’s presence from that moment onward.

While he loves his brothers and has always felt a strong camaraderie and warmth from them, he can be an bit awkward about showing affection to others. Their mother passed giving birth to him, their father only lived for another seven or so years, and while he has felt nothing but care from Cavit and Cem, he didn’t get to experience having a loving mother to nurture him as a child, and so he doesn’t know how to nurture others and doesn’t really know how to receive that care from others. If someone shows him a kindness, he doesn’t really know how to respond or show gratitude for it. Likewise, he’s awkward about physical touch and tends to shy from it. The romance department is thus nonexistent. He’s aware of it in an abstract sense but thoroughly oblivious to it in reality.

They say the eyes of velkynar from Vallarion are mirrors of their souls. This was always interesting, given the color of Cihan’s eyes. At first glance they are a brown, sometimes bordering hazel in certain light, but the longer one looks they will soon notice the sage colored freckle in his right eye. He has sectoral heterochromia, which shows as a light pigmented spot on his right iris that is green. Given the family’s cardinal sin is greed, it’s somewhat a joke that he’s just another greedy green eyed monster, or that the greed in the family’s blood showed itself prominently in his eye.

As far as inventions go, Cihan has yet to craft something incredible. Most of what he’s done is small, not exactly things that improve life but sometimes just for entertainment. He has been tirelessly working on accurate time keeping machines, improving astrolabes for the most authentic star charts which could be used for navigation, but he has a knack for automatons. His favorite invention to date is a small boat / floating device which features four miniature figures of musicians holding various miniature instruments. Within the boat is a complicated mess of pegs and pulleys, all powered by hydraulics. When the boat is placed in moving water, the current causes the inner workings to move to the water’s rhythm, thus causing the small instruments to play music as it bobs and floats along moving water. So the boat is essentially a floating orchestra. It’s more for entertainment than bettering life, but it’s the first intricate mechanical wonder he’s managed to create. This, and any other small automatons he creates, are inspired by a real Inventor of the 12th century, Ismail Al-Jazari.

more to come !

MISC

SEXUAL ORIENTATION: demisexual ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: heteromantic RELATIONSHIP STATUS: single FAMILY: ruling lord cavit devrim dagdelen (older brother), lord cem davut dagdelen † (older brother, deceased) PETS: tbd FACE CLAIM: deniz can aktaş HEIGHT: 6’1” TITLE: lord of nithiri keep LANGUAGES: tbd PINTEREST: x ASTROLOGICAL SIGN: tbd

CONNECTIONS

A detailed list of wanted connections can be found here. Below are the most wanted from the “open” section:

tbd

BONUS

[dawnyossarian]

Deniz Can Aktaş as Haydar Ali Aslan ↳ YERALTI | ᴇᴘ 10

[celcstine]

carnelian  orbs  fell  upon  the  youngest  altinsoy  .the  young  woman  had  grown  since  he'd  last  seen  her  and  considering  he  knew  how  diya  and  her  had  been  close  before  he  left  ,  it  was  nice  to  see  a  somewhat  familiar  face  ,  especially  someone  from  his  original  home  as  well  .  his  shoulder  leaned  back  and  his  demeanor  was  less  tense  than  usual  .  the  air  itself  made  him  feel  better  and  perhaps  it  was  a  welcoming  warm  breeze  .

honesty  had  been  the  downfall  of  many  ,  but  he  prided  himself  on  being  as  true  as  he  could  to  both  task  and  person  .  "  i  do  not  quite  know  .  "  he  mused  and  let  his  orbs  fly  over  the  scenery  before  them  once  more  ,  before  landing  on  a  young  woman  who  had  without  a  doubt  changed  since  last  they  met  .  "  once  warmth  and  sand  was  everything  i  knew  ,  now  ?  i  know  so  much  more  and  wonder  if  i  did  not  leave  this  place  ,  would  i  be  who  i  am  ?  "  a  smile  laces  over  his  lips  and  even  with  truth  in  his  words  ,  he  feels  no  burden  in  expressing  them  .  "  how  have  you  been  lady  altinsoy  ?  last  time  we  spoke  was  so  many  moons  ago  ,  i  hope  you  and  diya  still  keep  in  touch  ?  "

[vainglcriousx]

Her amber eyes shifted to look out over the sands. The dunes, which still held a warmth to them even under the silver moonlight, had for some time now been all that Leyla had known. But recent months had her away from this place more often than not, in the company of strange faces and even stranger events. In the faintest way, perhaps she could understand what Arun had meant. If they all stayed cloistered in the safety of their homes, of all they had known since youth, perhaps they would be blissfully ignorant to what lay beyond the borders, and what sort of hand life could deal. And perhaps, they would be completely different, likely naive people as a result. Experiences built a person, and he had seen and experienced far more than her. He was who he was because of what he had lived through. Built as much from a youth spent there as his time spent in the company of dragons. Surely it had made its impression upon him. It made her wonder who she would become if she had stepped away from Elaris Keep, from all she knew, and lived a life in the far beyond. Would she still be as girlish and hopeful if she were not so protected and sheltered by her family’s watchful eyes, and in a place so distant from here? Or would that which felt fundamentally her cease to be after enough time away?

“ What are we, but what our experiences shape us to be? I believe it would be naive to assume you haven’t grown while away. But I would like to believe you are not so drastically different. I recall you being quite kind before. I suspect that much hasn’t changed, hm?” She raised a brow and flashed a small teasing grin. Knights were always so noble, and she saw that very much in House Tripathi. In the short moment they had been in each other’s company, she could sense the warmth that naturally radiated off of Arun. She thought it was proof enough that some things had not changed. “ I have been well, all things considered. I think we all have some trepidation after recent events. But I find comfort in this next meeting of the nobility being here in my home. No place has ever felt safer to me. ” Even after what had happened here, with her sister, and all the unanswered questions that surrounded the court, Leyla wanted to hold onto the belief in the comfort home could bring.

Her smile had not faltered at mention of Diya. In the time between when she had last spoken to Arun, the friendship she had with his sister had shifted. Soured didn’t feel like the right adjective, but for some time pain had surrounded it. Recently, things were mending. But there was still a faint awkwardness to it, like it was anew and budding all over again. “ We try to. ” It felt truthful, a brief explanation for something that was still figuring itself out but in a hopeful way. ” What is Drakathar like? ” She asked, a curious glint in her eye as she shifted the conversation elsewhere. “ Have you seen a dragon up close? Are they often out where they can be seen? I suspect they’re not similar to the cattle that graze farmland... The idea alone sounds terrifying. ”

[vainglcriousx]

setting: on a terrace, within elaris keep featuring: evandris elarion & seraphyna tethalune @prophcsy

It had taken some time to find a single corner of Elaris unoccupied. As the nobles descended upon the marble palace, they all seemed of equal mind to becoming explorers of its many nooks and crannies. There was scarcely a room undisturbed by other velkynar, eagerly taking in the majesty of Heliophra’s ruling seat. The town and its bustling marketplace was no less crowded. They had spread, much like a disease, to every inch of it and made socializing hardly avoidable. Evandris had found himself less and less in the mood to be in the company of others. Normally he could manage quite fine, enjoyed as much attention as the next dashing fop would. But he found that his mind wanted serenity and peace as of late, he wanted to be left to his own devices and the comfort that sometimes only solitude could find. And that was what drew him to that particular terrace — the rare empty spot that had a splendid view of the desert sands and village beyond the gates. On a lone bench, he found his sanctuary, with a large board upon which he’d tacked a sheet of paper. With graphite in hand, a thick but soft lead which lightly stained his fingers, he sat in serene silence as he captured the image down.

As blue eyes darted between the view of Heliophra stretched out before him and his skillful recreation, he had not noticed when another soul drifted onto the terrace. It was a wide space, a well manicured sky garden with a few small winding paths. Anyone could come in without his notice, and he had been so fixated on the dunes below that he had only noticed the young woman when she barely passed into his peripheral. Pausing the short swift marks upon the parchment, he glanced up to see Lady Tethalune had found her way onto the terrace, but a small distance from him. If she had noticed him, he was unaware. Aside from the smooth movement of his hands, Evandris had been incredibly still in place, adorned in light colors that blended in rather well to the stone he had been perched upon. Perhaps he was too camouflaged. Then again, the scene that had sat before them was one that begged to be noticed more so than a morose young lord. He, who thought himself a purveyor of beautiful things, could not blame Heliophra’s majesty for being more interesting than him. Not even his vanity could overcome that fact. Moistening his lips, he cleared his throat once before resuming his sketching. “ Lovely view, is it not? ” He spoke up, making himself known.“ You of course may join me in partaking, but I should warn you — you’ve entered my vision, and so I hope you are comfortable should your likeness end up on my parchment. ” He lifted his graphite stained hand and motioned to the drawing board which he balanced upon his thighs.