#dawn shadow

Honestly, the black silk shirt was one thing – the fact that it didn't button up all the way was another. And he was fairly certain someone of his stature was never meant to wear jeans that fit like these. He was all legs, sharp angles, and at the moment, far sparklier than he had ever intended to be in his life. His eyelids were all but encrusted in the same glittering color as his feet, and he could only remember the faint smirk Anderson had responded with as he explained, “You’ll look good in red.” Helpful. He fidgeted with the fringy end of the narrow scarf looped around his neck, just a little too orange to be red, but too red to be gold.

“But then you wouldn’t look so pretty for this meeting,” Lana answered, shrugging one shoulder and smiling at the Nathaniel in her pictures.

“Really? You don’t think this is kinda, I don’t know, too much?” He hoped his glare would emphasize his point, but she didn’t look up.

“You don’t know who you’re meeting,” she said, as if this had just occurred to her.

“I don’t know who any of these people are, I never do.”

“You’ll be perfect.”

“I dunno if ‘perfect’s’ the right word. I’m sheddin’ glitter like a sun’va-bitch,” he muttered, and Lana laughed, soft and pretty. She reached up. Brushed his cheek.

“Tranquilo, baby,” she cooed, and then laughed again. “You get twang-y when you’re nervous.”

“Pretty sure everyone already knows I ain’t from around here.” He smiled, just a little, at the way her nose crinkled in distaste. He leaned over to look at her pictures, lips pursing as he flipped through a few. “I look a little…girly, in a lot of these, huh? More like some sort of…model than a singer…”

“You’re pretty, babe. Nothing wrong with that.”

He looked at a couple more, wondered at the poses, at the makeup, at everything. At everything it brought to his own mind, at least. A red leather jacket, the cherry finish on the Fender, the orange-gold decal on the hood of the firebird. God, Firebird – why had he named the damn song that? “I mean, it just seems a little…” Obvious. You’re selling yourself out. Did you really have to write a song about him, dumbass? “Excessive,” he concluded, instead.

Lana looked at him more seriously, in that soft almost pitying way he hated. “We don’t have to use all of them. Of course, you get final say in anything that goes out to anyone,” she said. He nodded, and she closed the folder, tucked it in her pin-filled jacket. “Hey. Cheer up.” She punched him lightly on the arm, suddenly all sunshine again. “You’re on your way to meet a big name, get a gig as an opener, get your first shot at an arena. You’re in the big leagues now, pretty boy!”

Nathaniel smiled, then, but answered, “People in the big leagues don’t ride the city bus to meetings, darlin’.”

“Twang-y,” she objected, and pointed dramatically in his face. Really, she was right – she always was, it was why they’d made her manager – and they managed to keep each other laughing the rest of the way to their appointment with whoever the hell.

They’d already heard the new demos. They’d already heard the last two albums, too, but this “they” wasn’t anyone Nathaniel cared to recognize. Just office people, business people, people who cared about how accessible his style was and whether the same fans might be into him as their other clients. To see if he was a good match. He hadn’t felt quite so scrutinized in years, but at least when Lana pulled out a few publicity photos from her folder, they were more standard ones, images he’d approved, and the rest stayed safely tucked away. He marveled, a little, at her way of wooing business people when she trudged in in combat boots covered in duct-tape, but maybe that was just New York for you. Maybe it was just Lana. Maybe it was just another thing Nathaniel was never going to quite get, and he found himself wishing for what had to be the seventy-third time that Nix was there.

Nix had better things to do, he guessed. Nix things, at any rate. And besides, these people all knew what Nix was about. They’d heard his work, everybody had. It wasn’t Nix they were trying to sell, so why should he be there to hold Nathaniel’s hand? A poor choice of words.

It was starting to seem they would never get past the desk people. Why would whoever they were allegedly going to be working with bother to come up to this grubby New York office just to meet one small piece of a not-so-big operation? To do some sort of exaggerated bonding ritual? Offer them drinks, show them around some places nobody really cared about, act like they were gonna be friends for publicity’s sake? Honestly, he wasn’t exactly in the mood to party with strangers, as much as he could probably use the drink.

Lana was arguing with one of the desk people. Nathaniel was tuning it all out. Humming to himself, trying to stay in the “music” part of his brain, where he was comfortable. Somewhere, the desk jockey was getting angry. A door opened. Lana was laughing, telling someone her name, telling someone his name. Nathaniel looked up. Saw who had walked in. This was a name he knew, after all. A face he knew. A voice, Dear God, a Voice that ran cold fire down his spine. It was a boy, looking at him, waiting for him to say something.

‎

All of the Guides of Drakerivelm were gathered for their half-century meeting; an event that ignored the Realms' alliances, Pantheons' alignments, and any grudges between the six in favor of bettering the group, and the Spirit Realm as a whole. They sat around an oval white quartz table in the iridescent castle; the heart of the Spirit Realm's main kingdom, Elovir Merulz – Old memories of death's harmony. Due to the sacred nature of the kingdom, its name has remained the same for the hundreds of thousands of years it's existed.

Dawn Shadow, Salha's Goddess of Death and the main Spirit Guide, sat at the head, the others seated across from her with the two chairs on either side of her remaining empty.

Directly across from her sat Blaze, the Guide of the Lost, a recent addition to Salha's Celestial Pantheon after leaving the Fallen.

Night Shade, the Guide of Battle and leader of the Celestial Pantheon, sat to Blaze's left with her hands folded in her lap, and Vizerxa, the Final Guide, sat to Blaze's right.

Beside Vizerxa sat Videns, the strangely uncanny Guide of the Vengeful, who was boredly bounced her leg under the table, cheek propped on her hand as she stares off to the side out a stained glass window.

Finally, beside Night Shade sits Iris, Guide of Family and the only non-salhan Guide, instead being of Valarae's Pantheon. She was the oldest Guide, though she never attempted to take a leadership position.

"Alright, are we all ready?" Dawn Shadow asks, crimson gaze sweeping past the five other Guides, attempting to seem leader-like despite her anxieties of seeming 'above' her own Pantheon leader and the Elder Deity Iris. She was, luckily, met with sounds and gestures of agreement, and she continues, "So. This meeting, I want to discuss what to do with Abyss. As you all know, Evex's famine has been having some... unfortunate consequences. Videns especially knows this, with the recent case of Voru."

"You say that like there's anything special about her. She was just an egotistical family killer, they exist in all Realms," Videns interjects flatly as her gaze finally shifts to Dawn Shadow, voice slightly out of sync with her mouth as it has been since her recent appointment as a Deity, "The only thing unique about her is her weird eyes n' the fact Queen Solis wanted me to leave her alone after killin' her."

Dawn Shadow pauses awkwardly. Voru had been a murderer– she'd killed her entire village, and later cannibalized them, not even giving the bones any form of burial. Was Videns's biggest concern really just the draconic's attitude? "Yes, well... With Abyss's dwindling food supply, especially in the more desert-oriented regions... crimes have become more common. I believe it's necessary for you to become more... strict with them. Cannibalization is far too common, and too many of them have been unpunished."

"Why would I punish them for surviving?" Videns asks incredulously, sitting up straigher and tilting her head to the side, "there's no food, and their stomachs are made to handle basically anything. That'd be like punishing a hunter for spearing fish, or a farmer for uprooting plants."

"They are eating each other, Videns. This isn't as simple as you make it seem," Blaze furrows her eyebrows as she argues on Dawn Shadow's behalf. Videns hisses in annoyance, standing up and bracing her hands on the table.

"Would you rather they all starve? They're all gonna die anyway, and the strong have always killed the weak," Videns snaps, leaning forward on the table, eyes flicking from Dawn Shadow to Blaze and back again, "Problems only happen when they start turning on their own kin!"

"She has a point," Vizerxa muses, voice much calmer and quieter as she glances at the younger Guide, crossing her arms and leaning back, "The victims are often killed in their sleep to avoid the energy needed for a fight, and in most cases they'd die soon anyway. The weak are spared a slow and painful fate, as are the strong who live on thanks to their sacrifices. Their deaths are neither in vain nor without justification."

Dawn Shadow tenses. It seems the Fallen Pantheon truly are all this heartless and cruel– the two didn't even care about the hundreds that Dawn Shadow and Night Shade have to comfort as they're led to the Spirit Realm due to being killed by neighbors, friends, loved ones... "There's more to it than weak versus strong; they're killing their own people! Videns, you care about family– what about the families of those that get murdered? The children losing their parents, the brothers losing their sisters, the–"

"Cut the bullshit. It's either some die, or they all die. Sacrifices are necessary," Videns cuts her off coldly, her unnerving ice blue eyes completely void of sympathy as she steps up onto the table, hands behind her back and wings folded. Videns stalks towards Dawn Shadow until she stands right in front of the older Guide, and leans down so their eyes are level, holding intense eye contact.

Videns's pupils are narrowed to sharp lines– the eyes of a hunter, of a predator locked onto prey. She's too close, too cold. Dawn Shadow leans back on instinct as Videns speaks again, "Eating is necessary for survival, and starvation drives us to lengths we'd never think we'd go to. Now answer; would you prefer they killed themselves by starving, Reaper?"

Dawn Shadow reflexively flinches at Videns calling her by title– the youngest Guide always calls the others by name. She doesn't respond though, too focused on the unnatural pale blue eyes that, for some reason, paralyze her with absolute terror, leaving her unable to pull her gaze away.

"Alright then. Glad to know where you stand; you don't even care about the precious 'victims', you're just unnerved by the idea that the hunters don't feel guilt for living. Regardless, I do not answer to you, and I never will. I don't give a shit what you think I should do, it's not your place to damn an entire Realm just for wanting to live," Videns snarls at Dawn Shadow with narrowed eyes before standing up straight again and looking over her shoulder at Vizerxa, the only one she truly obeys, "Hey, Viz. Should I drag people to Xeavulm just for eating what's available?"

Vizerxa doesn't even have to think longer than planning her words before she shakes her head, "I trust your judgement, Videns. This is your decision, not mine. If you believe them not guilty, I will agree with you."

"Good. Do any of rest of you disagree with me? I really don't care either way, but these meetings are always about popular opinion or whatever," Videns scoffs in disdain and turns fully towards the others, tail swishing in irritation, bladed end glinting in the light.

Dawn Shadow can't see what face the youngest is making, but the others seem unnerved, save for Vizerxa who's calm as ever. Night Shade shakes her head, agreeing with Vizerxa, and Iris doesn't object either, adverting her eyes from Videns with an uncomfortable expression. Blaze looks uncertain, but just looks down at her lap, making herself smaller as to not attract Videns's ire.

"Since that's all the Reaper wanted to talk about, I'm done here. I'm gonna go take a nap," Videns says, putting her hands in her pockets as she walks towards the edge of the table, hopping off and walking for the doors. Vizerxa silently stands up, shadowing her younger sister with a polite nod goodbye.

"Uhm... meeting... adjourned," Dawn Shadow sighs nervously, giving up, head drooping. She stays sitting the longest, hearing chairs move against the crystal floor and the other Guides' murmured goodbyes.

Those eyes still stayed burned in her mind; eyes full of an intense analytical malice that doesn't match Videns's apathetic and disinterested nature. It was like Videns had been staring directly into her soul; seeing Dawn Shadow's sins and tracking the price she must pay for them.

Player: @disappearintodawn

Name: Silent Shadow Under Dawn Sky

Nickname:

Gender: Male; Can Sire Kits

Age: 27 moons

Tribe: Water Tribe

Sexuality: Asexual, Aromantic

Rank: Star-Claw

Description: Silent Shadow Under Dawn Sky is a red ticked tabby with long fur, amber eyes, ears with tufts, and many small scars on shorter furred places. All four paws are polydactyl with one or two extra toes.

Personality:

Very quiet. Doesn't speak unless spoken to or necessary. Uses few words and a soft and deferential voice. Introverted. Serious and hardworking. Will do constant acts of kindness for others. Sees silly things and jokes as useless, seeing only a feral life of struggle. But he hides this inside. His determination on politeness is too strong. He secretly longs for family love, but struggles to truly open up to it. He is respectful but also stiff and skittish. Protective of others. Thoughtful of them, carefully remembering their preferences. He is a good listener, but a hollow comforter. He sticks strongly to his morals. If confronted, he will argue back, but if he feels he can’t win or is too intimidated he will just shut down and shut out the other cat. He is fond of kits. He is quiet and gentle with them and they are the only ones he will cuddle with. Sometimes if he’s feeling good he will tell them imaginative stories. He has a lot of imagination but is very shy about sharing it with anyone who isn’t a kit.