FORTIFY // herd meeting

[Kezz]

I S C A R I O T

Months had passed since the death of Paradisum. The sun still rose and set, the birds still sang, and the rain still poured over the winter-stricken desert, but deep in his bones the king felt a change. Severina — oh that beautiful woman — had suddenly become so desperately far from his reach that Iscariot did not know whether he could stand it any longer. Their marriage had started to disintegrate; slowly at first, and then like a steam train it had rushed headlong into darkness. The catalyst... what had it been, exactly? Iscariot paused his steady walking pace to think, just for a moment. Well it had been his inability to communicate his inner guilt and insecurities, and how he had pushed her away when perhaps she had needed him most.

The sultan sighed, auburn locks framing his face as he turned west to watch the sun dying against the winter sky. It was time to gather the herd together; it had been too long since he had held a meeting and too long since he had given guidance, strength and reassurance to the people who lived beneath his rule. Iscariot called into the air, watching as the clouds of breath billowed upward into the bitter atmosphere, and awaited the arrival of his desert dwellers. Rhaegar came first, for he had not been far; he never was these days. The red roan heir, now almost three years old - the age of maturity - came to stand beside his father. And against the backdrop of their kingdom it could not be denied that they were an arresting sight to behold. 

★SPACED Whipster ★★ kaykay ღ муα ღ
Herd Members to join: Sev, Rü, Madeline & Alaric, Peregrine & Rinc, Sonnet & Rhos, Aphrodite & Arachne.

[★SPACED]

The sun sets just so in the desert - it's death a regular cascade of sunbursts and fire, lost in a continuous struggle for one more minute, one more hour. And every night the sun would lose to the encroaching night, swallowed by the horizon only to appear once again in all it's fiery glory the morning after. Severina made an effort to watch it each evening, and find what peace she could in the routine of it - in the knowledge that it would return, hotter than ever, on the morrow. Today she could not tear her pale gaze away, finding a deeper and more symbolic meaning in the dying light, though she tried to avoid the misery that lurked in the corners of her razor ribbed heart. As the days had grown shorter she had found it more and more difficult to ignore the unfamiliar ache, had tried to be the ice queen she had been so content with previously. Yet it seemed that she had never been completely adept at keeping out all warmth, and now that seed of fire planted by the Sultan, her husband, was like a flame held to wax. She was melting inside, her veins bleached with a heaviness she could not explain. 

Iscariot was her everything, and would be forever. But she was not weak, and she was not accepting - she would not wither without his constant love and affection, instead she would grow stronger, colder and infinitely more Queenly. She had sons and daughters to raise. Her Rhaegar was strong, a Dragon, and she would make sure he would grow to be a King to remember. Had she been rash in accepting love from Iscariot? In loving him? No. She had been careful, had denied her feelings until they had burst from her in a wave - and she did not regret a moment of her love. But her husband had withdrawn from her, the death of her father even seeming to effect him more than it had her - and while she would never admit to needing someone else, she had needed him, would always need him. When his voice echoed across their Kingdom she could not help but to feel the same deep longing to be by his side. Though it was duty that set her on a path toward him, she could not deny that she also simply wanted to see him… the russet of his skin, the softness of his eyes… the club foot that she so secretly adored. 

Her step was graceful as always, and her back straight - her features set in a strict, stiff mask as she picked Rühm up on her way. He made no sound, only followed his mother in his own elegant stride. Sev worried about her youngest boy, for he lacked the aristocratic clarity of Rhaegar, and did not openly hold a fire like Rhoswen. She thought, perhaps, that he was the most similar to his father… and she did not know how to raise a child like Iscariot. She was fire, ice and ocean storm - but Rühm… he seemed to her to be withholding an internal hurricane. There was fire behind his eyes, a vitriol that reminded the red roan queen of her own youth. She could give no more thought to her silent son as they drew closer to the other members of their family: though Rhoswen was mysteriously absent. Severina did not know how to respond to an absent husband - and so she reacted in the only way she knew how: she turned to ice and steel. Her step was smooth and regal as she took her place on the other side of her husband, pausing to regard her eldest son approvingly. She made sure her skin did not touch Iscariot's, although the hair upon her shoulder stood on end in response to being so close to him. 

Rühm trailed behind and stood, awkwardly, slightly behind Rhaegars shoulder. It was evident that he did not want to be there. Severina did not once look to her husband, though inside she trembled and shivered as his distance slowly acted like acid upon every good thing they had ever built together. Even so, she could not regret falling in love. She loved him harder and more brutally every day, and would continue to do so.

Kezz wahh ♥

[Kezz]

Whipster ★★ kaykay ღ муα ღ

[Whipster]

"FIRE ME UP"

It was in Madeline's nature to be jealous; to feel undesired by whom she loved, but it was not the case here. Instead of mourning Iscariot's unshared affections, she instilled them into her son. He was her shining store, the prodigy she always wanted. And the boy was slowly turning into a man, growing into himself, standing stoic by her side as her guardian. Yes, naturally Madeline would have cared.

But today, she did not. The golden woman arrived with a splash of sandy waves around her, Alaric just behind her shoulder, a red figure that shone like polished rubies in this kingdom of dust. Her focus was immediately on Severina, but with no ill attempt, she simply smiled and nodded her head respectively. Madeline came to an easy stop feet away from the two and their kin, green eyes shifting to the centurion himself. “I'm sorry if we're late to the party,” she said softly, amused.

Alaric didn't want to say anything. He was still behind his mother, almost taller than his mother now and letting his wild tangles block his left eyes vision, exhaling soft into his mama's skin, but twitching his ears in the direction of his father. And then, with an airy grin, his attentions completely shifted toward Rhaegar. Alaric wondered if the tension still hung in the air, if Rhae still held that tiny piece of a grudge for the impurity. Would it have been different if his womb had been bare by Severina? Why can't I please him?

That was always the question. But instead, he cleared his throat and dropped his grin to a straight line. “How is everyone?”