"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
His prowess is gone and his abilities have faltered. Everything in his core throbs with the love of the Dale, but that has never been enough. He was never meant to be a King, but he accepted the crown to keep it away from outsiders. While he did what he could, Tiphon was never entirely proud of the fruition.
With rise, however, there is a fall.
It's during this revelation that Tiphon materializes in front of Ramiel. His eyes are hard at first, scrutinizing his son carefully, before they soften into the gaze of not a King, but of a father. "Ramiel," the taste of the boy's - no, he isn't a boy anymore - name floods him with joy because he knows that enough time has elapsed. This isn't a farewell, but a great leap in Dale history. Isn't every resignation and ascension valuable? A flickering grin stretches briefly across Tiphon's lips before his head tilts toward the distant knoll. "Let us go to the hill, shall we?" Without waiting for an answer, the angel turns away and quietly walks.
The silence doesn't last. During their short trek across the hilly landscape Tiphon brings light to the situation. "I have been unable to provide for this kingdom the last couple of years. I've failed her but I've been waiting for this moment. I couldn't do it sooner - it was too early, too premature, but I can't think of a better time than now." Their eyes meet when Tiphon gives a sideways glance to his son. "I've watched you grow and mature. I couldn't ask for a better son and heir." The conversation hangs there as they ascend the knoll, side by side. Only when they've crested it together Tiphon faces the boy (he will always be a boy in his father's eyes). "I'm stepping down as King of the Dale, Ramiel, and you are my successor. Do as you will to the ranks. Tiberios has been missing for years so I would suggest removing him as Lord. Everything is in your hands now. The Dale is yours, my son." His molten gold eyes glance away to drink in the sight of their home as the first light of dawn spreads like fire.
"Call to your family, your Dalean family, Ramiel. They will all be excited to hear from their new King."
Tiphon
infection and starlace
picture by random-acts-stock on deviant art
Looong awaited but I haven't been able to even post this until just now ><
Everyone, wait until Ramiel replies before posting.
The world wakes all around him (the birds stir in their summer-heavy branches, the rabbits emerge from their earthen dens) and finally, he wakes with it. It’s early, but there is no time to waste. There is so much to be done both within and beyond the borders of the kingdom, so much to prepare for before everything changes. He shakes the last traces of sleep from his limbs, blinks his eyes and steps forward. He’s only made it a dozen yards or so before the air seems to shimmer directly ahead. Before he can blink, Tiphon emerges from the space of nothingness. The soft, warm light silhouettes the stallion, setting his golden pelt aglow. He looks all the angel he is this morning. Without needing to say anything, Ramiel knows everything is changing sooner than he’d anticipated. He can feel the heaviness of the moment, can feel the weight of his father’s gaze as it settles on and studies him. Is his neck strong enough to bear the crown, is his will equally enduring?
He releases a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding when Tiphon’s gaze relaxes. I’ve passed, he thinks, just as invested in approval from his father as anything else. The pair shares a grin – a moment of candidness in an otherwise solemn affair – before it is time. The porcelain king makes to move to the near-distant hill and the young stallion follows in his footsteps. They walk along a rise, the kingdom falling away beneath them to one side. It is most beautiful at this time of day; the rays are long and lean as they fall across the hills, bathing them in butter-soft light. In the background, the mountains are a jagged contrast as they split the sky with their imperfect tops. It’s a wild and rugged land, unforgiving and harsh at times, but it is home. There is no place he would rather be. As they approach the knoll, Ramiel spares one last glance at the land opened below him. In a few short moments, the role of guardian would pass from his father to him. It’s a responsibility he has known about most of his life, but one he hasn’t realized fully until this instant. He makes a silent vow and continues on.
The angel king berates himself as they walk, and Ramiel shakes his head at the start of it. It’s only when Tiphon finishes speaking that he voices his view out loud, however. “You’ve done the best you can. The Dale is a slumberer – a hard-to-wake beast.” His eyes move to the tree line before meeting the molten gaze of his father again. It’s a lesson he’s come to learn in the three years since his birth and one his mother has declared historic; their home is slow to rouse. It may be traditionally quiet, but Ramiel thinks traditions can be broken with the right motivation. Besides, there is the other point. “Change is here, though, I’ve felt it.” For the last several weeks, really. It is a stirring in the land itself, a promise that nothing will be the same ever again. It’s etched in the greying stallion’s marrow; he needs only to decipher it.
But now is not the time.
They move atop the knoll as one, as the family they are. There is another kind of family waiting for him now, though – different, but no less important. Tiphon praises the son he is and the heir he became at his father’s request. Pride stirs in his gut, pride for his parents and for the land just below their feet. They have raised him; it is he who should be doing the thanking. “You made me the man I am today, father. Thank you. For everything.” His words are choked a little, because he doesn’t know exactly what his ascension will mean. He’s always been a serious boy, but in that instant, emotion stirs within him. Will his father stay or is this goodbye? Will mother follow suit if Tiphon leaves? The golden stallion gives him a few words of advice and the boy can only nod. Tiphon tells him to call them together then, and Ramiel straightens. He fights for his voice at first, but it grows stronger with each word.
“People of the Dale. Please, come forward.” He smiles at everyone who answers the call, his honey eyes meeting the gaze of each and every one. There won’t be many, he knows, not yet anyway. And unless a new horse decides to join them at this changing of the guard, Ramiel will know each responder very well. Elysteria, Joscelin, Talulah, Weir, Isilya – he expects (hopes) that they will make an appearance. They are part of this greater family, and as odd as it seems to address them in such a commanding way, he knows it is now his responsibility to do so. Once they’ve all gathered, he begins. “My father…King Tiphon, has decided his time on the throne is at its end. It is my great honor to fill his place to the best of my ability.” More than that, he demands perfection from himself. He chooses to omit it from his speech but it’s there, lingering always in his heart. If he couldn’t provide enough, then he would pass it on to the most worthy. “I have many ambitions for the Dale, changes I’d like to see put in place. It’s time we rose from the slumber of simply substaining.” He flicks his tail against his hocks in unconscious emphasis. “At the same time, I want us to remain a tight-knit group, a place to raise a family within a larger family.” His gaze softens at this; there is no way he will sacrifice this point as pleased with his childhood as he is. He wants it to remain so for everyone.
Other matters swim to the forefront of his mind. “As far as ranks go, I am ready to distribute them quickly and fairly to those who work for them. The upper positions will need to be filled as well, especially that of Lord and Lady.” He looks at his mother here, meeting her eyes almost apologetically. He has other plans for her, and it is no reflection on her activity or character. She looks back at him with all the trust in the world, smiling her congratulations, and he moves on. “Every two successful recruits will gain you an automatic promotion. A successful steal or challenge will do the same. For now, let’s focus on friendly steals with the caveat of a short visit (or not) until we figure out relationships with the other kingdoms.” He draws in a breath and continues. “We will have a strong alliance with the Jungle once a few loose ends are tied up, so only friendly steals and challenges with them from here out.” Ramiel’s eyes find Joscelin’s briefly, knowing she was one of those loose ends and wondering how she felt about it. His gaze moves to her mother’s then, and he smiles. “Elysteria, if you’d organize diplomatic trips to the other kingdoms I’d appreciate it. I will go wherever you need me to as well.”
He looks quickly to Tiphon at his side, wondering how his first speech had gone. The young stallion’s nerves had disappeared as the first words had fallen from his tongue. Ramiel looks back at the group, happiness filling his every cell. Change has never felt more readily available than it does now. Even the land seems different, touched by some ancient, benevolent magic meant to help steer their course. “Thank you all for being here. If you have any concerns or questions, the floor is open.” And the new king of the Dale falls silent.
07-09-2015, 02:18 PM (This post was last modified: 07-21-2015, 07:49 AM by Weir.)
((please add Weir to both castes I suppose))
The roan had been in the Dale for some time now, watching the world pass by as everything here stood still. Seemingly unchanged, stuck. Not nature itself, not the plants and animals that blossomed each spring. Nor the crisp snow falls, or stinging rains that cleansed the land to be made anew. The herd, the equine that lingered in all but abandoned meadows, that was what seemed unchanged to him.
Weir had not been around for long at all on this Earth, but at times he felt that he had existed a million lifetimes. That he himself, the spirit, the soul was on a forever looping pattern. Created again, and again and again, to wander the Earth. Seeking out each circumstance that beckoned him, that pulled him from all corners to where he was needed. Places he had never heard of or dreamed of, but knowledge. Knowledge leaked from his core, he absorbed information like a sponge. Countless instances, diagrams, words, images, all things remained engraved in his brain once he had set it to them. He had been here some time now and not once had he seen the protector of the hills, the river, the valleys. On this day, things had changed.
It was like a clock, the battery having stilled long ago, and now the energy replaced. He felt a pull, everything moving forward all at once. Amber eyes, training their gaze on a sight that he had waited to see for so long. The glowing burned, renewed, it filled him with such a sense of contentment. There were no answers for the occurrence, no knowledge that he could derive from a book. The written language he had learned back before he had left home for the first time. A knowledge gifted to him by his uncle. His feet moved him closer, automatically without waiting to be told to do so. Ramiel's call reverberated through his skull, and he went.
He answered. Without question for perhaps the first time in his life, in this life. Tiphon's aura, his glow back lit the gray young man in a brilliance that was commanding. Weir bent his head listening to words, sketching them, remembering them. The familiar chalk board of his mind, filling with scrawling letters. Things were changing, they were to awaken, to restore the Dale to a proper existence. He was ready, looking up to meet the lads eyes firmly. A simple nod in his acknowledgement and understanding, of his congratulations. He would not allow this simple, peaceful place, to bear a load on the boy alone. (For a boy he would be to Weir, a humble inquisitive, kind boy) He would share it, with him, with the others, as an equal.
He felt settled somehow. Like a compass that had been spinning, finally chose to point his way,to still itself from its constant turn in direction. He found his voice then, clearing his throat in a hurrumphing manner."I want to stay." The words at first small, most unlike the red stallion, but once he had found the words they gained momentum. Emitting from his maw once again, with more conviction,more certainty.