[open] who caught and sang the sun in flight

[Herrin]

------H E R R I N in short:-------------------------------------------------- all good things are wild and free The red leaves overhead are a striking contrast to the black branches and white snow that Herrin winds his way through. The buckskin horse looks up at them, well lit by the early morning light. Not even winter can pull the color from the trees of Sylva, and the black-eyed young stallion has always appreciated that aspect of his home. Raised in the no man’s land between the ever-autumn forest and the red hills of Loess, Herrin’s fondness of the place has kept him from ever leaving for long. He’s heading toward a stream, intent on quenching his early morning thirst, but draws up short at the appearance of tracks in the newly fallen snow. It is not often that others find themselves in this part of the woods. Herrin’s woods are far from the trails that connect the Southern realms, and he prefers it that way. The stallion’s dark lips pull back in a catlike snarl of displeasure, but he shifts nothing but those glittering white teeth. He prefers his horsehair coat to that of the cheetah, especially on winter days like these. And perhaps it is simply a wandering elkear, lost on its way to the grasslands. Following the tracks, he finds that they are paralleling his intended route to the water. Had they been looking for a drink as well? The trail leads through thick stands of red sumac, obscuring his line of sight, and he knows better than to go in blind. “Is someone there?” His voice sounds more pleasant than he feels at having his morning routine interrupted, but it has also been some time since he’s seen anyone, and perhaps he’s overdue to find out what has been happening in the world outside his woods.

[Lillibet]

LILLIBET

a star burning with the
light of a thousand suns

Her sleep schedule has been intermittent and chaotic as of late. She awakes abruptly in the early morning - bright eyed with no hopes of returning to slumber - when the sky is still dark and the twinkling stars are the only light to greet her. Even they are obscured by the autumn-colored canopy. She makes her own, though, and lights the red forest with her muted ambience as she explores its shadowy corners. Lillibet has learned there is nothing to fear in the depths of Sylva; only Manikin, who she still considers a friend. Perhaps she would feel differently if she knew the way the hippogryph had once altered her memory.

The snow is knee-deep and hides the gold striping on her legs except for the moments she bounds over top of the drifts. The rest of her, an ethereal ivory, gleams brightly as the sun slowly transforms the sky from deep blue to light purple. She rests beside a small creek to watch the sunrise through the clearing in the branches, oblivious to everything outside her own thoughts until the voice of a stranger shatters the early morning silence.

She whips her head around, the pupils in her amber eyes narrowing as her gaze works to find the source of the voice through the red sumacs. “Who's asking?” she calls back through the woods with a voice that's lilting and playful, though her muscles are taut and ready whether she needs to dart or defend herself.

Her father, especially, would not have allowed her to make it to the cusp of her third birthday without knowing how to defend herself. After all, Link had been the lucky one. All she'd inherited from her parents was the ability to glow.

— @Herrin —
“”

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[Herrin]

------H E R R I N in short:-------------------------------------------------- all good things are wild and free He’s been in this particular patch of forest for nearly a year now, having moved farther south after his elder brother left for Ischia. He wonders, sometimes, what Quell had made of the place and if he’d ever been able to find their father. But he does not wonder enough to go and find out. Instead, he’s found contentment in the trees, undisturbed and entirely at ease. Undisturbed until a stranger’s voice calls out: ‘Who’s asking?’ in a way that assures Herrin that she (because that voice is undoubtedly female, even if not one he knows) is not going to be easy to scare off. It’s one of Larrikin’s sisters, the buckskin thinks as he shoulders his way through the red sumac. There are about a dozen of them, maybe more, though he’s only met a few. Emerging with a few red leaves in his black mane, the young stallion finds someone looking nothing at all like what he had been expecting, and he draws up short. “Who’re you?!” He demands, the words falling from his mouth before he can stop them. She doesn’t look like any of Larrikin’s siblings, not with her glowing white skin or the golden lacing across her legs. There is no halo, no sign of anything draconic, and he frowns in uncertainty. “This is my creek.” He tells her, and wonders if she’ll move so he can pass by or if he’ll have to clamber down the steeper bank. Herrin swallows, and contemplates turning into a bat and searching for a less occupied stretch of water. Taking a step closer, he chooses instead to gesture to the side with his dark nose, indicating that she move over. @Lillibet

[Lillibet]

LILLIBET

a star burning with the
light of a thousand suns

The stranger who comes through the crimson sumacs, thin and angular and dusted with gold, is no one Lillibet had happened upon yet in her wanderings. Though she and her family have not been in the golden forest for that long - a few months, perhaps - she's intrigued by the sudden realization that there are still strangers hidden in the depths of their home. The young stallion's inquiry is demanding and rushed, though this is neither offputting or offensive to the young woman who snorts at the idea of practiced diplomacy. Instead, his curiosity is met with a coy grin and a roll of her lithe ivory shoulders.

“Sylva's Princess,” she tells him plainly. She'd never spoken the title outloud save for in moments of jest with Link, but it feels fitting now to joke about the weight of it. She was not anything to be crafted into a leader - her parents knew full well that her desire to rule was next to nil, but there could be benefits to throwing her own lineage around, she was quite sure. “And do you have a name, Protector of the Creek?” She sidesteps at his request, as difficult as she may be she's never quite rude, and shivers against the chill of the Sylvan winter.

Her small hooves find their footing on the decline toward the creekbank as she settless comfortably beneath a particularly dense clusters of gold-leaved boughs, her ethereal glow bouncing white light all around her. “Lillibet,” she tells him finally, before flicking her amber eyes back in his direction with curiosity.

— @Herrin —
“”

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[Herrin]

------H E R R I N in short:-------------------------------------------------- all good things are wild and free He is vaguely aware of how kingdoms work, and that the leadership of the red forest owes allegiance to the monarch of the South. Larrikin’s parents had been the leaders once, and then the wild-eyed mare, and now? Now someone new rules the woods, he decides. This girl cannot possibly be the progeny of the pastel magician, so someone new must have claimed the title and responsibilities. And given the title of Princess to the glowing girl, who now illuminates the sungold leaves around her like some sort of wood nymph, having stepped aside to allow him access to the creek. Herrin takes it, pointedly turning his back to the girl as if she is no threat at all. His flicking ears belie this confidence though, and he is quick to quench his thirst. When he turns back, water still drips from his dark muzzle, and his black eyes hard and unreadable. The sharp angles of his  face are accentuated by the uncertain frown that settles between the feline markings across his brow, and his dark eyes meet hers with serious intensity. “Herrin.” He replies, a single word before he decides to ask why she is here, attempting to determine how long she might deter him from his morning routines. “What are you doing here? No one usually comes to this part of the woods.” @Lillibet

[Lillibet]

LILLIBET

a star burning with the
light of a thousand suns

Lillibet knows nothing of Sylva's history. She has paid it no mind, save for the few conversations she's had with Manny pertaining to what monsters could be hidden in the depths of the golden woods - and truth be told, she doesn't much care to learn about its happenings from before she'd called it her home. Had she had access to Herrin's thoughts, she'd have no inkling who Larrikin or the pastel magician were.

Loess, though - it had been smashed into her brain. Castile and Lepis and Tarian and Soran, all those who came before her, and those who tried with all their might to tear the foothills kingdom down, down, down. A history she could recite forwards and back, had she not thought the whole idea of diplomacy boring.

Herrin moves beyond her without response to her mostly self-given title and Lillibet takes the opportunity to study him closely as he drinks. Despite the easy, relaxed posture in his legs and shoulders, at least one ear remains pressed in her direction. The glowing girl wonders at its source - suspicion or intrigue?

His pupils are narrowed and cold when he turns around to face her again, thirst sated. He provides his name and customary etiquette would require her to remind him just how nice it is to meet him, but such things escape her. The tobiano doesn't quite seem to mind.

“That's why I'm here.” Her explanation is succinct, though likely not one that Herrin will find satisfactory. She starts to wonder if she has interrupted something, and finds that, per usual, she doesn't really care. “So, what makes this your creek?”

— @Herrin —
“”

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[Herrin]

------H E R R I N in short:-------------------------------------------------- all good things are wild and free Herrin has always been at the edge of society, his life unbothered by the happenings of distant lands. He likes the stories, especially the ones with fighting, but he has always lacked the dedication required of a soldier. He prefers the solitude of his woods and his creek, the laziness of each day and the way every hour is his own. Every hour but this one, it seems, for the glowing girl still does not catch on and depart. His frown grows darker still at her succinct answer. She is here because no one comes here? That’s not really an answer and he’s about to tell her so when she continues. What makes this his creek? Herrin glances back at the shallow water that winds through the red forest. Farther upstream, where it doubles back, is the copse where he usually rests, and downstream where it flow toward the Loessian lakes are where the best grazing is. It’s his because it is a good creek and there is no one else to claim it. But why does she, Sylva’s princess, want to know? Is she going to try and take it away? Are her parents? Herrin’s suspicious nature has him looking back at Lillibet, who at closer inspection does not look especially threatening. He is no warrior, but Herrin is not defenseless, and feels mostly confident when he tells her: “Because I decided it was mine. You can’t have it, even though you’re the Princess. It’s mine.” @Lillibet

[Lillibet]

LILLIBET

a star burning with the
light of a thousand suns

Lillibet had not intended to land herself in the midst of a stand-off when she'd awoken to explore on this day, but the youthful tete-a-tete with Herrin has invigorated her. There is something about the feline-marked man that makes her want to challenge him, to twist her way beneath his skin while the playful smile remains on her lips. At least, she wants to until he turns pensively to survey the area he has made his own. She knows then that this hovel of his is important to him.

She's not heartless.

Nevertheless, the glowing girl laughs aloud when he calls her Princess. She hopes it sticks, that he'll continue to call her that, the edges of the word jagged with disdain. “Chill out,” she responds to his strong assertion with an animated roll of her amber eyes, “I don't want it, and I won't tell anyone about it, either.” Lillibet knows quite well the importance of keeping a secret; she and Link have a handful or more, and it's those that she cherishes more than almost anything else.

“Unless you'd like it to be known as Herrin's Creek. I could do that for you.”

But no matter his answer, her intent is not to leave the area just yet, and so she plays innocently ignorant. Herrin would have to tell her directly to leave - and even then, would she? “Have you always lived in Sylva?” she asks curiously as her amber eyes turn away from him, taking a moment to inspect the red sumacs around them.

— @Herrin —
“”

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