glitter&gold

.✦ ݁˖ ⸻ Prompted by the council's announcement, Efigenia's mind ran wild when it came to the crown and whose head would be affixed beneath it. She was no fool to this game, however, and though her own eyes looked upon the crown voraciously, her house was of a scorned name and the ruling lady of Graveholt needed to be smart. If they were to only socialize amongst their hollow then Efigenia would take the time to strengthen Drakathar from within; she only hoped her fellow Drakatharian's would not shy from the opportunity like the fools she expected them to be.

Her beetles, some ravens - they only sent out to the respective houses of Drakathar; whether her invitation reached a ruling lord/lady or they reached someone else within the house, Efigenia would offer them space within Graveholt accordingly. Her own wanton could only be satiated if her reach went far. The road to Graveholt was practically never travelled and so when she was alerted to someone venturing upon it, the ruling lady of Graveholt took herself down to greet them.

Sage did not want to leave vexmarsh and so after spending a near fortnight with Zaheen, she packed her knapsack and orchestrated a carriage to take her to Graveholt. Sage had intervened the raven that bared an invitation to the dark castle that lay in between large mountains, it resembled more of a hungry, dark mouth than an actual home and sage felt a sinking pit within her stomach as the carriage travelled the road solemnly visited.

The mirethorn dragonrider wanted more power, she didn't desire to wear the crown and although her brother and her butted heads on more than one occasion, if there was anyone who was going to wear the crown, she wanted it to be her house and varyn. Stepping down from the coach, her skirts were gathered in one hand when she spotted Efigenia's figure. " I got your raven and who could resist visiting the house that had raised our dear Amarei? "

Soft  beds  of  moss  and  stone  lay  lost  beneath  the  soles  of  his  boots,  and  each  step  of  his  sunk  into  the   verdant  and  lush  hush.  His  return  had  not  come  without  labor,  for  the  heir  never  granted  himself  any  indulgence  in  leisure  for  too  long;  but  as  the  press  of  his  home  filled  the  space  of  his  lungs  with  something  half  sweet,  it  is  the  old  familiarity  that  clings  to  him  like  a  ghost  he  couldn’t  expel.  Still,   Vaelor  walks,  and  his  strides  are long  and  heavy,  and salt  eyes  fall  on  the  darkened  stone  of  Draegor  Keep’s  castle,  jagged  peaks  visible  in  the  distance  as  the  mist  draped  over  it  like  a  veil  of  mystery.  He  could  see  the  tallest  peak  cutting  through  like  an  incision  that  split  the  horizon. But there comes the paddling of shuffled feet.  " I’ve  little  patience  tonight. "  There’s  a  soft  rain  of  mist.

Beric did not answer her immediately. his gaze remained on her, steady, unbroken, though something in it had shifted. not in dismissal or reluctance. consideration, perhaps. he took in the challenge for what it was, the edge beneath her words, the quiet anger that had not yet found its place to land. it did not provoke him. it did not deter him either. a slow breath left him through his nose. “no,” he said at last, voice even, unhurried. he adjusted his stance slightly against the stone, one shoulder settling more comfortably as his hands remained tucked in his coat pockets, the posture relaxed in appearance, though nothing about his attention was. “i don’t go looking for something like that,” he continued, tone calm, stripped of any need to impress or convince. his gaze flickered briefly toward the window again, toward the glow that still lingered in the distance, before returning to her. “there are people who make a life out of chasing shadows that do not hunt them.” a faint pause followed. “i’m not one of them.” his eyes held hers, steady, grounded. “but if it comes to my doorstep,” he added, quieter now, though the certainty in it did not lessen, “if it steps into my path and decides i’m part of it...” a small shift of his jaw followed, the only sign of something firmer beneath the surface. “then it stops being a question.” the words settled without force. without dramatics. “i don’t fight other people’s battles,” beric finished, his voice low, deliberate. “but i don’t walk away from my own.” a brief beat passed, his gaze lingering just long enough to make the meaning clear. then, more evenly, “and i doubt you do either.”

( END )

that her trust would not be easily won -- or perhaps never won in its entirety, a scrutinising eye following her within the time-worn halls of vexmarsh -- was no surprise to amarei. she found herself navigating lady sage's character, pride and obstinacy mingled with unbending force of will, mirethorn trademarks, it would seem. but while their minds appeared to be disinclined to compromise, they were not entirely beyond the reach of reason. lenore had reminded her of that, when amarei was beginning to fear that there would be no breaching the walls her betrothed had built about his person. finding favour with his sister, as amarei had admitted, could indeed help her along. but beyond her attempts to reach varyn, it would ease amarei's transition to living at vexmarsh to count at least one friend, of sorts. "while i am not in the habit of speaking in absolutes," she allowed for her voice to be tinged with melancholy, for she did desire a happy union, and yet the betrothal had proven turbulent. but amarei would not seek sage's counsel so soon, lest she betray her earlier words. "i do hope for happiness, yes." a small smile, her gaze darting to the gentle graze of fingers across the back of her hand. her smile grew, and she reached out to give sage's hand a light squeeze.

sage appeared outwardly cold, a soft brush of hands between someone who could have been a sister, someone who was capable of slipping past her defenses and it didn't make the days that were bound to come any easier. sage laid down, with her shirt lifted to reveal her torso and the injury she had sustained from the fire, closing her eyes to not have to look upon amarei and the consequences of caring for another.

sage didn't wish for him to see the scar collection that she was gathering and the dragon claw marks on her shoulder, their legacy was in murky waters and when the knock came on the door for the healers, varyn turned his back and sage crept towards the window, her heel hit the sill as she climbed out into the crimson leaves that scattered the castle grounds.

"we are, which is why i am certain this will be a quick and painless interaction. once they are gone and provide us with any salves or ointments, you can hide away in your room and ignore me for the rest of the night." his gaze lingered on their hands for a moment, but when he heard a knock at the door sound, varyn pulled his away from hers and went to answer it. the healer on the other side seemed out of breath and varyn wondered if he ran here after getting the summons. what had the guard said? did he fabricate the extend of her injuries or was the healer just fearful of earning the wrath of the mirethorns?

it did not matter, varyn gave the man a curt nod before welcoming him in the room and motioning towards his sister. except, she wasn't. fucking. there.

an irritated groan left the heir's lips as his eyes took in the open window. "it seems you will be inspecting my burns, doctor." varyn began, rage simmering in his voice as he turned back to the healer. his gaze passed over the man's head and locked in on the guard outside the room. with another nod, he knew his frustration and request would be known. sage could run and hide, but they would find her eventually.

lukesh  had  spent  the  majority  of  his  time  with  his  mother  and  his  sister  but  in  all  of  his  free  time,  he  was  searching.  he  had  only  mentioned  it  to  his  closest  friends  but  sage  seemed  to  have  a  similar  approach.  he  leaned  against  shelf  and  nodded.  "i  would  say  it's  also  strange  to  see  another  person  wandering  around  here...  if  not  for  the  circumstances  we're  in."  he  stated  cooly. he  motioned  towards  the  door.  "i  thought  i  locked  that.  i  guess  not."  the  man  turned  towards  the  book  he  had  pulled.  "have  you  had  any  luck?"  lukesh  asked  her. he  picked  up  the  book,  it  wasn't  as  helpful  as  he  had  hoped  but  it  had  some  information  regarding  fire.  "i've  searched  almost  every  room  twice."  he  admitted  as  he  placed  the  book  in  his  bag.  he  would  return  it  tomorrow  after  he  was  done  reading  it,  of  course.

amarei signalled her understanding with a single nod -- so it was a matter of vulnerability. she had seen the extent of others' injuries in the infirmary, and a voice she would not permit to speak in this instance, argued that surely, surrounded with so much suffering, one need not feel exposed nor weak. wounds would heal, given time and care. the battle sage was fighting was a lost cause -- but amarei believed she already knew this herself, or she would not have accepted the bundle of supplies.

"i am trying to gain your favour." at the risk of startling the other with her candour, amarei decided it would serve her best here. if she was to make vexmarsh her home, she needed to be seen and known as she was. "you might say that in turn, varyn will be pleased to find you and i are forming somewhat of a bond. but no, he is not why i am here." she insisted. "my sister efigenia and i share a warmth, a deep connection -- a sense of mutual understanding that has always made me feel rooted, far more so than the keep we were reared in. our history is not only forgotten, it stretches across hollows. it is fragmented, tainted. not the sort one can carve an identity from." the bloodied legacy of house mirethorn had long reached graveholt, but at the very least, they had endured. velwryn was questioned even in its legitimacy as a house of drakathar, never mind how many generations had breathed its cold air now. "so i learned quickly that my roots must be the people i surround myself with. i would like to find a sense of belonging in vexmarsh, with those i am to call my family. i cannot do that without you, sage."

amarei's words pierce her, a tingling of a warm sensation in her chest and her lips pull down momentarily, uncomfortable with the feeling ⸻  it is normally reserved for zaheen and varyn only and it's a sense of dread accompanied by a sudden onslaught of a fierce sense of protectiveness, with knowing that she cannot afford to think of amarei as one of her own and yet lady velwyrn is snaking in there all the same. fighting the smile that is threatening to twitch onto her lips, it is a divine blessing that amarei hails from the drakathar hollow as the dragons are as much of their house as the mirethorns. a warning is held behind her teeth for the murky waters that the vexmarsh keep stands firm in, there is much that she hides from her house and there is a small sparkle of hope within her that amarei could be a true sister to her and yet, she swallows it back and remembers that house mirethorn need a gained alliance more than they need honesty.  ❛ i see. ❜ onyx hues linger on amarei's face, a touch of grief contained within and then she blinks, breaking the moment and averting her gaze, a masked smile touches her lips ❛ you and my brother shall have a happy marriage. ❜ her guarded words are borderline cruel. ❛ vexmarsh has always my home and i hope in turn, it will become yours. ❜ her words are soft, hushed, almost a confession and her finger graze the back of amarei's hand in a featherlight touch.

The burning of the white oak changed the night for Taemris seemingly forever, the gaping maw of licking flames, the cruel brilliance of light upon them despite its raging source. Empathy bled from him but no such worse than wanton; a cruel yearning which always plagued his soul, no matter how often he attempted to train it out of himself, such splintered bits would be forevermore within.

" Getting sick implies you're on your way there , " a brow was arched at the Mirethorn , an expression which danced between curiosity and skepticism. " Are you wary to the sight of blood ? " A calloused question considering the events which trailed behind it, but Taemris never had the makings of a lord nor diplomat.

The sardonyx moon had offered hope, shining bright in a luminescent glow that was reminiscent of a pearl and normally they would burn in such light but the velkynar's skin warmed and sage experienced what it was like to not feel so cold and dark, a rare flicker of what could be. Then they had been met with the brightest glow as the white oak burned down around them, she had witnessed light that eclipsed all else and set fire to their place of sanctuary. Sage knows it was an arsonist but at moments of weakness, she wonders if they invoked a curse by asking for too much.

❛ I'm not answering that question and exposing a weakness. ❜ her voice is steeled as the last thing she wants to appear is vulnerable in front of a velkynar from braxigar ❛ there is no way to answer that without losing.. if i'm wary of blood, i'm weak and if it matters little to me, i'm heartless. I imagine you've seen plenty of bloodshed in your days. ❜ the velkynar from braxigar were known for their prowess with a blade.

the lady's wry humour landed true to its sardonic intent, and amarei chuckled, easily -- a chiming lilt of a laugh, her agreement implicit before words could confirm as much. "yes, he towers over us both in stature and ego. i suspect that if i told him, he would surmise i came to you to earn his favour." with a dip of her head, she offered sage a conspiratorial smile. "so we are agreed: he need not know i was here."

a wry smile crossed her lips and her gaze returned to her brother's betrothal, her features were lit in mischievousness like she was the cat who caught the canary. ❛ are you not trying to gain my brother's favor? after all, if it wasn't for your care for him, why would you be here? ❜ onyx hues didn't relent from amarei's figure, she had enough secrets of her own and didn't particularly care to burden herself with keeping secrets between the engaged couple, even if her soon to be sister, was here out of concern for sage's injuries, she still wasn't the type to give an inch without having her fun.

the next question caught her by surprise and placed her in a vulnerable position, taking a deep breath in. ❛ back in vexmarsh, we had staff who attended to our various cuts and bruises that I never learned first aid. I've experienced worst than this. ❜ luckily she was still in her dressing robe, so she lifted the hem of her shirt to reveal the patchwork of black and blue bruises and lacerations that she sustained from a fire hot branch as she ran to escape the inferno.

location ♱ the gardens, or a similar setting thereabouts.

Knock, knock; his knuckles tap against the top of her head. "Ah, yes... thick headed as usual," he concludes swiftly, after halfheartedly 'testing' the resilience of her skull, as though it were a vase to be appraised rather than a girl with teeth and claw, and demeanor about as gentle as her brother's. Brashness had never bothered him, of course. He appreciates Sage's candor, if nothing else. "It is comforting to know little has changed in the absence of my sight..." a smile flickers there, as his hand settles back to his side, and his back leans to the opposite wall for relief. "Mm," he nods in agreement, briefly, his mouth pressing to a thin line. "I suppose that does make it easier to make a meal out of you... you do know what we do with children who are ill-behaved back in Braxigar... don't you?" the tone, of course, implies a threat that isn't really there; reciting tales perpetuated by the elderly in his youth, meant to keep children obedient and on a tight leash. It had worked on him until it didn't. Naturally, has about as much desire to swallow her whole as he does a toad—still. She is a vexing creature, he owes her the courtesy to torment her a little, at the very least.

a growl revibrates in her throat when she feels the knuckles tap against her skull, a warning that she wants to bite but there is a sense of eeriness that the braxigar hollow brought with them that holds her jaw. onyx hues watched sheng carefully, back in drakathar she had a dragon, ❛ luckily we're in vallarion ❜ delivered in a dry tone, a proud jut to her chin and she's beginning to heal since she accepted the supplies from lady velwyrn that she realizes celembron castle houses nocturnia's history, house caldrithen were scribes whose journals might be the key to their dwindling power and the attack at the great oak. ❛ the season never changes here, we're eternally in autumn.. nothing has changed since you lost your sight. ❜ her words are barbed and she hates how the crimson leaves of vallarion remind her of the inferno they were lucky to escape from, the fire burning around them still with the oak trees that dotted the castle's landscape.

It is what most seem to need these days, a careful conversation meant to ground them in the now and not in the fire. If that is what this strange girl needs, she is more than happy to provide it, for there will be no loss to her. 

“The Kelindorr have always taken care of the gardens within Minolith Manor,” she begins, voice slow and steady, speaking clearly and as if she is telling the sort of story that she has told a thousand times before. “We might not be the main gardeners, as we have other duties as nobles and rulers of our domain, but we know how to tend to our flowers to ensure they bloom into the magnificent gift all of Nocturnia admires.”

It is their duty to tend the flowers, to ensure love remains despite the politics that claw their way into every marriage within the nobility. It is their duty to tend to the flowers, to get their hands in the dirt and work alongside the worms and the bees to ensure life is brought to fruition in a colorful bouquet meant to be carried by someone when they walk to reach their spouse. And truly, what better duty could their family have?

Onyx hues watch lady isolde's hands tend to the soil, a routine of cutting away what has rotten and wilted so that new life could grow in its place, a small seed could bloom into florals that lined the tables for their next grand feast ⸻ the inferno in the great white oak wouldn't quiet the court or halt the velkynar nobles in their march of trying to rule nocturnia and find the cause of their waning power. sage has always felt more comfortable in the wilds, even at celembron castle, she spent more afternoons walking the groves of the oak trees than within the stone walls of the castle and so she understands why lady isolde finds comfort helping in the gardens, even if no admittance of the matter had been stated, there was no need of coin to entice the work.

Sage had spent most of her days trying to mend a severed bond between dragons and their riders, a relentless search that hurt many in its wake ⸻ she never tended to the vexmarsh, it grew wild and consumed anything in its path with creeping emerald vines. sage had been bewitched by the white oaks that surrounded vallarion, the crimson leaves scattered through the hollow that she felt a pang of sympathy for house tethalune and the home they've lost.

❛ it's an admirable skill ⸻ everyone loves flowers. there's high demand for bouquets right now and bedside flowers. a sunflower could make anyone forget their terror... momentarily at least. ❜ 

Beric’s gaze held on her as she spoke, the faint curve at the corner of his mouth flattening into something more neutral, more considered. he inclined his head once at her first remark, acknowledging it without adding to it, as though the truth of it required no embellishment. “for most,” he agreed quietly, his voice even, though the distinction lingered unspoken beneath it. his attention did not drift this time. it remained on her, steady, attentive in a way that suggested he was listening for more than the surface of her words. at her question, something in his expression shifted. not surprise. not quite intrigue. but focus. his gaze flickered briefly toward the far end of the hall before returning to her, slower this time, more deliberate. “i don’t wonder if it was intentional,” he said after a beat, tone calm, stripped of speculation. “it was., it had to be,” a small pause followed, his fingers adjusting slightly within his coat pockets, the only sign of movement. “the only question worth asking is why.” he let that settle for a moment before continuing, quieter now. “the white oak doesn’t fall to chance. not like that. not when it had just…” he stopped short of finishing the thought, the rest implied easily enough between them. his gaze lifted again, meeting hers with that same measured steadiness. “someone chose that moment.” a faint breath left him through his nose, almost thoughtful. “and i doubt they’re finished.”

location ♱ one of many celembron's common rooms .