She was not quite what you would call refined.
Popinjay had not known what to do with the hole at first.
It was not a natural thing, the sinkhole had no reason to be there, but the years had worn away at it, the wind wearing down its sharp edges, the rain and the roots of seedlings chipping away at its sides, and time had faded away the memory of what it had served to do, dropping out from beneath the feet of a former king mad with grief and a golden girl with a mark like a heart at the center of her forehead. Poppy can't see its history, but she can see it was carved away by magic, not nature, and so she wonders what such a thing must be for.
And then, she forgets about it, because there are other things to think about; her collections and her patrols, her visits the stone shell of Brazen resting safe among the fly traps.
And then, the day fled from them and Nerine, often dark with rainclouds, was made darker still by an eclipse that never ended. No matter where she goes, the eclipse and the clouds hide the sky, and those whose magics depend on such things are made fearful and furious. There are monsters, so many, everywhere, lurking in the shadow that has swallowed the world. The Rook is not afraid of them, or of the dark, the wildness of it sets her alight even as everything else is lost in eternal night.
In the darkness, the pit spoke to her, it whispered its new purpose to her, and she, bright, laughing, girl, unfurled her wings with a sharp cry and thrust herself into the sky. It takes days - if you can call them such, any longer - even as large as she i, her magic and her strength can only offer so much. She collects the largest trees and logs she can lift in those gleaming talons and carries each back to Nerine, back to the pit until there is no pit but a tangle of deadwood and dry winter shrubs and grasses and the flame-hungry pitch and needles of the northern pines.
She loves the dark, but her friends desire the light, and she gives it to them. Lightning blue-hot shatters the darkness and even the monsters are exposed as they sneak and lurk around her, curious, waiting, and she grins at them.
"Wait and see, wait and see!"
Veins of electricity spread across her body. The wood explodes, splinters bursting out in every direction, and the flames begin to lick, then to leap, then to rage. Flickering light spreads across the heath and the monsters recede with the shadow, chittering and screeching their displeasure. Her grin never wavers as she dances dangerously close to the roaring edge and the heat of the flames grows so strong that the bite of winter fades back, too.
The world may be dark, but Poppy has brought back the light.
It was not a natural thing, the sinkhole had no reason to be there, but the years had worn away at it, the wind wearing down its sharp edges, the rain and the roots of seedlings chipping away at its sides, and time had faded away the memory of what it had served to do, dropping out from beneath the feet of a former king mad with grief and a golden girl with a mark like a heart at the center of her forehead. Poppy can't see its history, but she can see it was carved away by magic, not nature, and so she wonders what such a thing must be for.
And then, she forgets about it, because there are other things to think about; her collections and her patrols, her visits the stone shell of Brazen resting safe among the fly traps.
And then, the day fled from them and Nerine, often dark with rainclouds, was made darker still by an eclipse that never ended. No matter where she goes, the eclipse and the clouds hide the sky, and those whose magics depend on such things are made fearful and furious. There are monsters, so many, everywhere, lurking in the shadow that has swallowed the world. The Rook is not afraid of them, or of the dark, the wildness of it sets her alight even as everything else is lost in eternal night.
In the darkness, the pit spoke to her, it whispered its new purpose to her, and she, bright, laughing, girl, unfurled her wings with a sharp cry and thrust herself into the sky. It takes days - if you can call them such, any longer - even as large as she i, her magic and her strength can only offer so much. She collects the largest trees and logs she can lift in those gleaming talons and carries each back to Nerine, back to the pit until there is no pit but a tangle of deadwood and dry winter shrubs and grasses and the flame-hungry pitch and needles of the northern pines.
She loves the dark, but her friends desire the light, and she gives it to them. Lightning blue-hot shatters the darkness and even the monsters are exposed as they sneak and lurk around her, curious, waiting, and she grins at them.
"Wait and see, wait and see!"
Veins of electricity spread across her body. The wood explodes, splinters bursting out in every direction, and the flames begin to lick, then to leap, then to rage. Flickering light spreads across the heath and the monsters recede with the shadow, chittering and screeching their displeasure. Her grin never wavers as she dances dangerously close to the roaring edge and the heat of the flames grows so strong that the bite of winter fades back, too.
The world may be dark, but Poppy has brought back the light.
Poppy has created a giant bonfire in a hole Heartfire made several years ago. She will keep it going as long as possible, so please feel free to reference it in any Nerine threads.
