can't make you feel but i can make you think

POSTED: Wed Aug 21, 2019 4:44 pm

Her room was mostly set up now, or as set up as one could be with what little possessions she had; hopefully now her few stores could grow, now that they had a more permanent place to keep everything.

Truthfully she was growing rather fond of the dilapidated fort, and within no time she was sure it would be resurrected to its former glory. As much as she yearned for a beautiful palace with fountains and columns and a royal guard and a bustling court filled with colorful Luperci, these dreams would have to be put on hold. Luxurious kingdoms were not constructed in a day, especially not those she had read about so fondly.

Macha was padding along behind her, nipping at her heels with every step. The woman had grown weary of telling her to stop, so she had resigned to her fate, feeling the tiny pinpricks at her feet as they made their way to the king's quarters. Hopefully he was in today, for Fennore had quite the proposition for the monarch.

In her hands she held the faithful charcoal pencil and loose paper, fresh and unmarked. As far as Fennore was aware, none of the refugees that had coagulated here had any sort of records or histories written down; she knew that someone had to have done it in the past, but those were most certainly lost to ash now. And so, given that literacy was one of her specialties, the mission became clear.

But she did not just want the stories of Old Caledonia; no, she wanted to get the history of all that lived there. And perhaps somewhere down the line she would not pursue it alone. For now, though, it felt appropriate to start with the one at the top.

Briskly, the back of her hand rapped across his door, and she stood back to wait patiently for his emergence.

[+318] • magister co-rank thread; iomair!

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veldt
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Songs from the Wood

POSTED: Fri Aug 23, 2019 12:09 pm

The room they had chosen lay on the ground floor of the Kings Bastion. It had been Vodevas idea to name it so, and Iomair had agreed somewhere between arranging their furs and preparing their first meal. She appeared less worried now that she had a place to rest and gather her strength without the worry of being surrounded by the wilds, and Iomair could see that she stood straighter than she had in weeks despite her injury.

"How are you feeling?" he asked as the sunlight began to ripple through a broken window, "You look well."

She was standing at the foot of their dusty bed, her dress rumpled and sad looking from being packed for so long. Vodeva was prettiest when she thought no one was paying attention, for the sharp lines that usually adorned her were softened as her focus lay elsewhere. She was using a cloth to wipe at the window panes, humming quietly to herself as she worked.

He couldn't help the murr in his throat or the way his expression changed when she turned to face him.

Everything changed. As it usually did.

The hardness came back, the chilling edge to her eyes sharpening to a honed point as she worked the rag between her hands.

"I'm fine." She managed, glancing to one corner of the room, "I will need a place to pray..." Iomair nodded and hid the deep sigh that threatened to spill out like a tide. "Y-Yes of course."

The knock drew their attention away from the chasm that lay between them, and Iomair rose to curiously open the door. Fennore stood there, beautiful as ever - and behind him Vodeva sniffed and pulled a veil over her hair as if to protect it from the non existent sun.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" he gestured for her to come in, "Please excuse the mess."

It was Vodeva who noticed the items gathered in the Privileged hands.

"What is that?"
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Amanda
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POSTED: Fri Aug 23, 2019 11:18 pm

He did not make her wait long. The door swung upon, revealing the slow progress the King and Queen had made in their quarters; Iomair greeted her warmly, gesturing for her to enter, and the pair strode inside; Macha mewed with glee and sought to snuggle in Iomair's arms.

"Good day, Your Grace," she responded civilly, glancing to Vodeva and giving her a curt nod and sterilized smile. The Queen was the one who saw her instruments first, and Fennore held them out to her willingly for inspection.

"As you may know, I am quite fond of reading and writing in my spare time," she started, tail flicking behind her as she spoke. "Caledonia lost much to flames, and I assume this includes many of your written history." She looked from the man to his wife carefully, gently. "I think it would be beneficial for all Caledonians, old and new, to have access to the stories — your stories."

A beat, just long enough for them to consider. Her muzzle lowered just slightly, head tilting to accentuate her request. She was diplomatic as always. "My plan is to eventually record the stories of all members here, see how different everyone's personal histories are. However... I felt it appropriate to begin with you two, if you are willing to indulge me." She watched their reactions, gauging them, hoping to hear a satisfactory answer. "I know the cultures of many Luperci are so similar yet different, and I hope to capture that essence of diversity in these records. Does that make sense?" Perhaps it didn't sound so far-fetched or strange. She thought it an interesting concept, at least.

Nearby, Macha had migrated to the silver queen, pawing at her legs and seeking attention from a familiar yet distant figure.

[+300] • <3

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Songs from the Wood

POSTED: Sat Aug 31, 2019 1:33 am

Vodeva watched Fennore as if she was a threat. The Queen-Consort was suspicious of newness in a way that her husband was not, and as Fennore slunk into the room all she saw was the womans ample curves and the way that her lips parted so perfectly each time that she spoke. She clutched her side as the Privileged flame-haired woman explained her collection of tools.

”Oh I see.” She finally managed, clicking her teeth as she made her way to an overstuffed chair. ”Have you-“ But her words were lost as Macha bumped against her legs, eager to be picked up and settled in the womans lap. Vodeva stared for a long and silent moment before bending with a wince to gather the creature in her arms and fondling the smooth fur between her ears.

”I think it’s a wonderful idea.” Iomair nodded after Fennore and made to perch in another derelict chair. He motioned for her to sit across from him and stroked his chin pensively. ”So much was destroyed.” His expression wavered, but he managed to calm the turbulent rise and fall of his brows, ”Is there something specific that you are seeking to put to your pages?”

He patted himself as he thought, ”There are a great many stories regarding Dúr-“

Vodeva cut in as Macha mewled her pleasure, ”-And even more of Nín.”

>:)

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POSTED: Mon Sep 02, 2019 9:04 pm

There was a respectable distance between her and the Queen, though it was an uncomfortable one, at least for Fennore. Where Iomair was warm and welcoming, Vodeva was cautious and critical — a sharp woman, and the younger female could understand how the King cherished her even with her frigid discretions. They were foils, but they operated fluidly despite it. At least, they did to an outsider, to Fennore.

Seeing Vodeva entranced by the kitten was rather satisfying, at least. Yet another swooning over the small gray feline. She hid a smile at the thought.

Iomair was fond of the idea, and she had suspected as such. He gestured for her to sit nearby him, and she walked over to the chair with her long, floating stride. She sat daintily and prettily, back straight and ankles crossed as she fixed her papers and held the charcoal pencil between her fingers, balancing it as her eyes flicked from the man and his wife. She gave a small snort, a reserved beam as she gave a vague answer, "All you can share."

Her head tilted slightly, and she met him with a more pensive gaze. "I know many new Caledonians are interested in the stories of the gods, so perhaps it would be appropriate to start there. They are quite intertwined with the kingdom's history, I am sure."

She swept her arms wide. "Whatever you feel is most important for your people to know... I am honored to provide your testimonies for them."

[+251] • <3

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POSTED: Mon Sep 09, 2019 1:39 am

Vodeva worked the tiny cats ears before her fingers as she ruminated upon Fennore’s words. The pretty red head was one of the ambitious ones, eager to prove herself as a valuable member of New Caledonia. The consort watched Fennore with some reservation, for despite the airs that surrounded her there was a certain level of insecurity that lingered deep down beneath her pious nature. She watched Iomair carefully as he interacted with Fennore, and she wondered if he had been the same when he had visited the Heartwards back in the clan.

Iomair settled in one of the chairs, steepling his fingers as he quietly sifted through the many stories that his family had shared.

”The Aegas have many stories. It will be difficult-“ His eyes suddenly brightened, his bushy muzzle twitched as he exclaimed, ”There is one.”

”It is a good idea Fennore.” Vodeva winced and clutched at her side, before Iomair carried on, ”One day you will have to share your family’s story so that it can be reborn here, woven into the loom that is New Caledonia.” He hummed a happy note that filled the cold room with warmth like sunshine, ”Let me tell you of Dúr and the mountains that he rules over.”

”They say that his hooves cracked the world open and that each mountain is one of his children – lain dormant for hundreds of years after they were borne of his forge.”

>:)

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POSTED: Wed Sep 11, 2019 9:10 pm

With enough prodding, she finally secured the approval of the Queen, or so it had appeared — either which way, a monumental task. Perhaps it was Macha's charm that coaxed compliance from Vodeva's lips, but Fennore liked to think her own ministrations brought her to desirable outcomes. The cat was quite skilled in swaying hearts, though, and she did not discount this undeniable truth.

A strained smile graced her lips. "I've... not much to offer myself, Your Grace," but it was a bold-faced lie. Plenty of culture ran through her clan, none of which was really their own — but traditions and gods and song nonetheless. They were so starkly dissimilar yet reminiscent of Caledonia's, but she tried not to dwell on them any longer than she had to.

After all, Fennore O'Hartigan was long dead. The Moonwraith had risen in her place.

Iomair began to weave his tale, and the young wolfess focused her eyes on the paper before her, the charcoal pencil pressing into its surface lightly as she wrote in sprawling, curly script. His words were flavored and mythical by themselves, but she added more theatrics as she went along; as though it were second-nature. Voracious reading and writing lended themselves nicely to a colorful, fledgling storyteller like herself.

"Hooves?" she repeated as she penned the word, briefly glancing up to the King. "Forgive me, Highness, I am still new to the gods of Caledonia. He is no wolf, then, this Dúr." It made sense, if their deities were constructed long before Luperci roamed as her clan's were. But even still, these gods were still quite different from any other spirits or beings she had ever read about, so perhaps they had no origins in the human world after all? I shudder to think they ever existed in the first place.

[+311] • <3

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POSTED: Sun Sep 22, 2019 11:07 pm

Vodeva crept closer as Fennore wrote; like a child enthralled by some brand-new thing. Fennore had beautiful writing that curved its way across the page as Iomair spoke, and her bright eyes glanced between them curiously. There were stories hidden in the many folds of New Caledonia, stories for traditionalists and for the newcomers who were so eager to see this place flourish.

”Everyone has something to offer.” Iomair said with a chuckle, crossing his arms so that he could lean upon the table.

”No matter how big or small. New Caledonia will have stories from all walks of life, traditions passed down from cultures that have come before. He hummed thoughtfully and glanced at Vodeva, the natural chill in her eyes persuading him to come to a gentle pause. The old country had been full of divides – threads of story and tradition that had divided instead of bringing them together.

”Dúr is a majestic creature – strong, wide, and powerful. He is said to appear like a plains bison with great curved horns and mountains sprouting from his back.” Iomair felt the weight of the token in his pocket and smiled, ”He embodies strength and lends it to those who need it most.”

>:)

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