anywhere in the world tonight; noah

[Lepis]

l e p i s

the city's where the stars lost the war

The dun monarch is rarely without her youngest son, and this early spring day is no different. Lepis and Kestrell stroll together down the path that leads to the southernmost land of their empire, the bright afternoon sunlight lighting the robin’s egg sky and the tall red peaks around them. Eventually the red hills grow more colorful, and the scrubby brush that covers them becomes interspersed with bunches of billowing grasses. As they walk, Lepis explains the importance of borders, the consequences of crossing them, and the exceptions to those. She has done her best to teach the piebald colt as much as she can, recalling the lessons given to her by her mother and Uncle when she was even younger than Kestrell.

Kestrell’s resemblance to that Uncle is not something she has told him of, but as the two of them arrive in the heartland of the floral pampas, Lepis knows that it is something that Noah will undoubtedly notice.

With a gesture of her head, she sends the smoky black tobiano back toward a pond they’d passed, where she’d previously denied him a drink. There’d been some hoofprints in the mud there, and Lepis wonders if perhaps he might encounter Tickaani’s son or one of the other foals his age that Noah has told her live here.

Leis continues ahead, winding through the brightly colored grasslands until she finds a familiar red roan shape.

“Noah!” she calls, her voice carrying over the tall grasses that separate the two small mares. For a moment she considers trying to make her way toward the other mare, but the grasses are thick and strong here, and Lepis has no desire to battle her way through. There’s already an ache in her neck from where she’d slept crookedly, and she is reluctant to push it. “Over here!” She calls, trusting the other to know the easiest path to her.


@[Noah]

n | l

[Noah]

The call of her name is the first she notices the arrival; she is dozing and unwary. Most times, the little red mare isn’t all that cautious at home, and this day is no different. She has nothing to hide and no pretenses to uphold. It’s just Noah and her family, in the lush herdland that has been her solace since she found it. But the voice is familiar, and she turns with a smile, immediately starting to move towards Lepis.

The grass is thick and sweet below her hooves, but unlike those who have to labor for each step, the foliage almost seems to part around her, and grow back up behind her as if she has never been. Noah and the Pampas are in a relationship nearly symbiotic; they thrive together. She reaches the gold-and-blue mare and reaches out to touch her soft pink nose to her friend’s shoulder. “My friend,” she murmurs, green eyes sweeping across Lepis to make sure she seems well, “It is good to see you.”

NOAH

that's all there is

the most loveliest of tables by jassal
manip by devin | stock credits: @szmigieldesign at unsplash.com
madishmade, darkbeforedawn23, xxtgxxstock, cactuskim, madetobeunique @ deviantart.com

@[Lepis]

[Lepis]

l e p i s

gave me the blues and then purple pink skies

Noah and the Pampas are inseperable for Lepis; she can still recall the strangeness of seeing the red mare in the Taigan woods. It is more than the greenery (Taiga had plenty of that), there is something more about this place, something that lends to Lepis’ oldest friend a sense of permanency.

In these times when many things seem unstable, Lepis is grateful for this.

She returns the soft touch, stepping back to surveil Noah much as the other does – to assure herself that she is well. She seems so.

“It’s good to see you too.” The knowledge that this visit is not separated from their last by years (as is their habit) is comforting, though the awareness that she is not here purely on a social visit does loom overhead. Better to get that out of the way early, she thinks, and perhaps when business is concluded they will have time to speak of less heavy things.

“I suppose our positions make it unlikely that our meetings can be totally untouched by politics, but I always hold out hope that the next visit will be just as friends.” There are few creatures who Lepis trusts to know her intent regardless of what she says, and for that she does not guard herself around Noah, does not feel the pressure to pick the perfect words and phrasing. “This time though, I am here to tell you that I will be stepping down as Queen of the South, and instead the title will be held by Oceane.” Her blue-grey eyes are focused, curious if perhaps the red mare knows the purple pegasus of which she speaks, though she continues regardless.

This next news is somewhat heavier, as it affects both Noah and the Pampas, and it follows quickly.

“Oceane wishes the seat of the kingdom to move here, to the Pampas. I believe it’s a good decision.” Does Noah, is the unspoken question asked by Lepis’ blazed face. Though the south has been ruled from the Pampas before, this is a more permanent thing than their flight from the Plague.


@[Noah]

n | l