#FR: Alnilam

[wrathful-reptile]

"And your wings?"

"Viral, don't you have a party to host?"

"Miss Alni, I don't think the other plagues will show up without some of your famous Acorn and Cricket cookies!"

"Is that why you came back? And I am guessing all of your guests are skydancers?"

"Are there other dragons in the city?" Viral paused for a moment. "I forgot. Tundras like you."

"Viral. I'm an obelisk."

"I thought Obelisks were made of stone."

"No Viral."

"Oh"

[dem0nsiget-fr]

30 Day Dragon Share Challenge

Day 7: Share your favorite Ice dragons

Definitely these three

Anjing (Quiet Mind): one of my female Imps, some of my favorite dragons. One of the more quiet and reserved of the clan dragons, and best friends with one of my other female Imps, Shenshe (Spirit Tongue), who does more than enough talking for the both of them.

And the twins, Alnitak (SD) and Alnilam (PC), names after two stars in Orion’s Belt. They don’t have much lore yet, but they are gorgeous boys.

[highland-gem-guardian]

From the ruins of an alternate Sornieth, a hero seeks to understand an element long forgotten. Meet Nuz! The Same Mistake Twice thread

TSMT Pinglist: @the-bovidae-kingdom @anomalous-skink @emordnilap-fr @alnilam-fr (ask to be added! storyline updated on site and on AO3 only.)

[alnilam-fr]

@jollyroger-fr @hellkite-fr @fr-owlistuff @puffins-and-bears @tirnaillclan @ianlestraud-fr @starongie @jadedragons @fr-mar@majestyrising @almaren-fr @intergalacticsock

"The peachtrees are budding,” announced Gwydion, ducking under the door of the library. Souhayla turned halfway to look at him, her lips parting into a smile as warm as summer. “Why were you staring at the wall?” he asked.

“I think we should put a window here. It’s so dark you can scarce see the bookshelves, but with a great broad window the light would come through, and we could move a chair here, and here,” she said. 

Gwydion nodded, halfway listening. “Window,” he said, sagely.  Her voice left a flavor of sourwood honey in the air, and she moved like a mote of dust in the light. 

“Meridian says she thinks stained glass would be nice here,” she continued. “But Sabiyya said she thinks it would be too flashy. There are stained-glass windows in the upper floor of the library, but none down here.”

With a shrug, Gwydion stepped up to the wall and ran his hand along it. “Either way, we could use some light here,” he said. He flashed Souhayla a smile over his shoulder and added, “I saw Soloist in the kitchen baking cookies- care to join me in bothering him for some?”

There is a golden window in the library of the House of Alnilam. Sometimes, the bone-weary travelers who come to the House to rest wander into the labyrinth of bookshelves and come to a place where two chairs are set side by side, and a window of gold and blue glass between them.

“This looks like you,” says a young Skydancer, to the Nocturne woman who keeps the House. “But there’s been no glass made this way for- Shade, a hundred years. Did you find a special artisan to do it?” He looks at the other figure in the window, and his antennae twitch at the gunpowder smell of sadness in the air.

She hands him a cup of tea and turns away. “It’s someone else,” she says, whisper-soft. Before he can say another word, the woman walks into the shafts of sunlight filtering between the bookshelves and melts away in the light.

“Oh,” says the Skydancer. He checks his pack and readies himself to be on his way.

[wrathful-reptile]

Curse or Blessing

Flight Rising Lair lore Focus: Lair member Alnilam

Warnings: None Context: Alnilam, local baker, is pestered by her favorite customer and talks a little about her life.

"Blessed? What is a blessing but a curse others are jealous of?" Alnilam asked, watching the clouds over the city as she walked with a dragon who was starting to get on her nerves.

"Oh but the Icewarden himself chose you."A green skydancer hummed."To be chosen by one of the eleven is-"

"Has anyone told you you're harder to get rid of than a disease?"Alnilam growled. The skydancer stopped and her red eyes seemed to shine.

"Why that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me!"

"Viral, it was not a compliment."Alnilam shook out her mane with a huff."And imagine. All of your children left to serve the deities. A noble cause. They all followed their own call. But you? You were sent against your will. You were planning to go. But to serve the deity you were born under. I was born a fire dragon."

"You're… not though."

"Correct."Alnilam rolled her eyes."But I was taken here by my travels. The travels I planned to do before settling to serve. They said my destiny was not to serve and I ignored them."

"So how'd you become an Ice dragon?"Viral was walking backwards and Alnilam considered simply tripping the skydancer to change the topic but decided otherwise.

"I left to go serve the Flamecaller and got lost in the snow. It all looks the same outside the city. It's no wonder most need an ice dragon to accompany them. When I was found, it was by Gaolers. They took me to him. The icewarden himself. My fire was too bright to contain by even their ancient ice. They needed him to quell the flames. And he did. He turned me into one of his own and ice runs through me."She sighed."Cursed and then sent away, back to this city. Why? I do not know."

"I mean that explains the embers that are constantly coming out of your mane."Viral said.

"Yes, Viral. That explains the embers."

"Does it burn?"

"Does what? The embers? No."

"The ice."

"Viral…"Alnilam looked at Viral with an almost unreadable expression.

"Dumb question, right?"

"No that's… I don't know what a burn is supposed to feel like but based on descriptions? It did burn. I've adjusted."

"Miss Alni, maybe if we found the Flamecaller, she could give you your fire back?"

"Or she could kill me. OR perhaps I'm done dealing with the eleven. They may be gods but if I have to face another, I want it to be the Icewarden so I may spit on his name."Alnilam said, heading to a building."Now then, what was it you were pestering me about before you got me on this topic?"

"Oh, I need three loaves of Sunflower loaf, a batch of blacktongue muffins, and a whisp fruit honey pie."

"Hosting another Contagion party?"

"Yes! Only Rohel showed up last time."

"Is that a problem?"Alnilam asked, gathering the pastries from one of the display cases and some baskets.

"Yes! Because he left thinking I just wanted to hang out with him. AND I DID don't get me wrong, but… uh. I never know what to say around him unless others are there. I mean he's part of the council! And well… he's pretty."

"Oh Viral… What am I going to do with you?"Alnilam handed over the baked goods and waited as the skydancer fished payment from their bag, only to see the shocked and clearly disappointed expression. Alnilam shook her head with a sigh before going to write something down.

"Pay later?"Viral asked with a nervous laugh.

"Yes. Pay later."

"Thank you! Sorry!" Viral left the obelisk to her job.

[alnilam-fr]

fair is the lily of the valley

@jollyroger-fr @hellkite-fr @fr-owlistuff @puffins-and-bears @tirnaillclan @ianlestraud-fr@starongie @jadedragons @fr-mar@majestyrising @almaren-fr @intergalacticsock

The young minstrel had been walking for many miles, seeking out an inn where he might ply his skill. As he walked, he plucked at his mandolin, the notes trembling in the clear air. There were white flowers in the grass by the side of the dirt road, and here and there the land was dotted with white stone ruins.

“Fair is the rose that in my love’s garden grows, And fair is the lily of the valley, Bright is the light in the ruins’ domain, But my love is fairer than any.”

A cold wind blew out of the north, and he shivered and pulled his silk-lined cloak closer about his shoulders. Though the snow had not yet begun to fall, the days were growing ever shorter and the winter spirits would soon begin roaming the land. 

The sun was nearly set, and the minstrel squinted at the horizon, where he could see a forest rising between two hills. He quickened his pace, blowing a cloud of frosted breath in front of him.

“I’ll come to thee by the storm and sea, My life and my darling, I’ll come to thee across the sea, And I’ll make the Plateau by morning.”

“Hail,” said a voice, and he startled and nearly dropped his mandolin. A broad-shouldered Guardian had caught up to him as he walked, her shoulders draped in pale satin marked with heraldic roses and a rapier slung about her hips. “Do you know anything a bit...faster?”

The minstrel was surprised by her accent- a Fire Flight laborer’s accent if he’d ever heard one, at odds with the elegance of her attire. The Guardian quirked an eyebrow at him.

“Oh- of course,” he replied, and blew on the fingers of his plucking hand to warm them before picking out a few bright notes.

“It would be warmer, if you played happy songs,” she said when he paused, her voice rumbling in the curve of her throat. “Where are you wandering, minstrel?”

“My name is Denouement,” he told her. “I go to seek work in whatever town will take me.”

“And mine Baleen. My purpose is more or less the same. Do you think you will find a town to make camp in before...the long night?” Her voice carries a note of fear, and she rubs her thumb along the intricately worked hilt of her sword. 

Denouement shrugs. The wind tugs at his silky curls, its bite reminding him that soon, soon, soon the sun will set and will not rise for many days. Spirits walk the land during the night that does not end, some more benevolent than others, and most dragons cover the mirrors in their houses and hide themselves behind charms and salt circles.

“’Tis bad luck to be on the road on the days when the sun doesn’t rise,” warns Baleen. “Even now, there’s a feeling in the air that sets my spine crawling.” She shakes her head and hunches her shoulders.

Taking a deep breath, Denouement begins to sing the most light-hearted and sprightly song he knows, his fingers dancing over the silver mandolin strings, and thus they came to the edge of the forest.

“Now some take delight in the carriages a-rolling, Others take delight in the hurling and the bowling; But me I take delight in the juice of the barley, And courting pretty women in the morning bright and early!”

Baleen chuckles as she lopes alongside the slender minstrel, not noticing the slightly ethereal ambiance of the birchwood forest. “Up ahead,” she says, pointing to where a wall of sleek marble can be seen through the trees. “Might as well stop by there and see whether they could put us up for the night.”

“Fine architecture,” comments her companion as they circle around to the great front gates. Spiralling gold is embossed into the doors, and the buttresses are decorated with leaves and vines carved of white stone. Stained glass glitters in many of the windows, gold and blue and red in the winter sunlight.

After a moment’s pause, Baleen walks through the gate and raps her knuckles on the door. “It’s quiet,” she says in a low voice. Denouement looks down at his mandolin and plucks a few notes of a winter carol.

Suddenly, the doors open with a draft of warm cinnamon-scented air. A Nocturne woman dressed in white stands in the candlelight, and Baleen at once sweeps a bow. “Hail, Lady,” she says. “My companion and I are seeking a place to spend the n-”

“Oh, do come in,” the woman says sweetly, stepping aside with a sweep of one slender arm. Her eyes are the color of summer sunlight, and to Denouement it looks as though there is light lying beneath her skin. “It gets so quiet here in the wintertime.”

Baleen glances back over her shoulder, and Denouement shrugs and steps inside. There are candles in every window, and it smells as though something is baking, somewhere in the house. The walls glitter with intricate designs in gold and pink, and the halls are lined with great mirrors reaching nearly to the floor.

“A fine court,” says Baleen, respectfully. “But surely you don’t live here all alone?”

“I take in whoever comes through,” the woman says over her shoulder as she leaves the room. A few moments later, she returns with a tea-tray and pours each of them a cup, curls of steam rising up around her hands. “But for now, I am alone. My name is Souhayla, Lady of the House of Alnilam. It’s very nice to meet you.”

Denouement’s second song is Whiskey in the Jar, and you can listen to a really excellent mandolin cover of the whole song here! His first song has no name, although I should write the full thing out sometime.

[alnilam-fr]

unicorndust-fr --> alnilam-fr

[alnilam-fr]

@jollyroger-fr @hellkite-fr @fr-owlistuff @puffins-and-bears @tirnaillclan @ianlestraud-fr @starongie @jadedragons @fr-mar@majestyrising @almaren-fr @intergalacticsock

“As for you and your heart and the things you said and didn't say, she will remember them all when men are fairy tales in books written by rabbits.” 

- The Last Unicorn, by Peter S. Beagle

The house is empty. 

The golden woman stands in the puddle of sunlight spilling through the bay window, her face tilted up to the sky outside. Over the forest, the sky is the thin blue of three in the afternoon, and the leaves are a pale, pale green in the September wind.

Light stirs beneath the woman’s skin, as though she is dappled with sunlight, and she turns from the window and crosses the hall on soundless bare feet. Her pale hair moves behind her like a curtain, glimmering. She opens the great doors, and the wind moves past her and into the high-vaulted rooms.

The sounds of the highway echo faintly through the birchwood. It is some seasons since the road through the forest became a great one, and the noise of wheels ringing and the distant calling of travelers is strange, hard-edged to the woman’s ears.

She drinks in the sound like wine, lips parting to reveal childish pearly teeth. 

“Souhayla,” said Gwydion, and his eyes were brown and kind in his grizzled face. His pale gold hair had nearly turned to gray, and he took a deep breath as he turned up the collar of his long mage’s coat. “I really am going this time.” 

Souhayla sat in the library, her head bowed so her hair covered her like a cloak. A mug of steaming tea sat beside her, and Gwydion took a hesitant step towards her. She looked up, her face still as childish-young as the day he had first seen her, and her eyes glowed like the setting sun. In a smooth movement, she stood and cupped his jaw in one hand and kissed him.

Her lips tasted like- dear Lightweaver, they tasted the way a sunrise looked. Gwydion pulled away, cold tears running down his cheeks.

“Why are you crying?” asked Souhayla, taking a step away. She left her fingers on his jaw, and he reached up and moved her hand away.

“You don’t love me,” he said roughly.

“I love you as a friend,” Souhayla said, simply. “I want you to stay.”

The tall mage shook his head. “You can’t make me stay- like that. I know you.” He smiled, sharp-toothed and false, and pressed a kiss to the back of her hand. “Fare thee well, Lady Souhayla.”

“You loved me,” Souhayla whispered as he loosed her hand, and she tilted her head and her eyes were strange and golden in the low light. “Didn’t you?”

“Always and forever,” said Gwydion, and then in a rush of movement he turned and scooped up his bag and was gone. Souhayla stood in the library and listened to the doors of the house close with a sound like distant thunder.

“Is anybody here?” calls a voice. A thin Wildclaw has stopped on the doorway, his clothes well-kept but gritty with travelling dust. He has a pack slung over his shoulder.

“Hello,” says the woman, radiantly. He blinks at her, shuffling his feet as she opens the door wider for him to come inside and takes his arm in a firm but friendly grip. “You must be thirsty. Would you care for some iced tea?”

“You’re too kind,” the stunned Wildclaw says, as the woman leads him to a couch. He makes himself small to avoid brushing dust on the elegant marble busts and glimmering mirrors that line the halls. “Who is the master of this house?” he asks, voice echoing in the corridor.

It is a few moments before the woman returns, silent as a candle going out. She smiles, and the young traveler jumps as she hands him a glass of a tall pink drink with ice in it. “I am,” she says. “I’ve lived here for a long time.”

“I heard this forest used to be haunted,” he says. “Hundreds of years ago.”

“Maybe so,” she answers. For a moment she is caught between two mirrors, and her reflections go back and back and back. The traveler blinks and shakes his head. “It isn’t any more. I have lots of visitors, but no one ever wants to stay for very long.”

“Oh,” he says weakly, and sets down the glass. “I would stay longer, but I have to make the Expanse by sundown. You live alone?”

“Right now. Some people stay the night. Some people stay for weeks. Let me show you to the door.” As she walks beside him, the Wildclaw casts sideways glances at her out of the corners of his eyes. She is dressed in a shift of simple white, and her skin is a dusty brown that reflects light- no, she is shining when she steps into shadow, so that the darkness cannot dim her light. 

“Thank you,” he says at the door. 

She nods, and for the first time he looks directly at her face. Her eyes are so golden and so sad that his heart cannot take them in, and he quickly turns away.

“I never caught your name?” he calls suddenly, stopping in the path. The door is still open a little, and he has almost turned back to open it when the woman steps out and smiles.

“Souhayla,” she says, almost singing. “My name is Souhayla of the House of Alnilam.”

“Well met,” the Wildclaw says, and bows. And then he is on his way again, with a nervous glance at the sun as he rejoins the bustle of the highway.

Souhayla stands in the doorway for a long time, listening to birdsong and the creak of wagon wheels and the jingling of bridles and whips. The wind rustles her hair. She takes a long while, just breathing.

[alnilam-fr]

@jollyroger-fr @hellkite-fr @fr-owlistuff @puffins-and-bears@tirnaillclan@ianlestraud-fr @starongie @jadedragons @fr-mar @majestyrising @almaren-fr

*crawls out of the void after four months*

I really wasn’t feeling my current clan lore arc, and I’m still really...not. I like most of my characters but I don’t at all like where the story was going, so I’m strongly considering either rehauling my entire lore or just rewriting everything since the Alnilam Ball back in...like May or something.

I’ll keep you guys updated. Also I might change my URL at some point.

[alnilam-fr]

The Alnilam Ball: Open RP Event

Let’s get this show on the road! RP thread is here, and if you’d like to post anything on tumblr about the event be sure to tag me so I can reblog it! ♡

@jollyroger-fr @hellkite-fr @fr-owlistuff @puffins-and-bears @tirnaillclan @ianlestraud-fr @starongie @jadedragons @fr-mar @vegaclanrising @almaren-fr

[alnilam-fr]

The Invitation: Open RP Event

@jollyroger-fr @hellkite-fr @fr-owlistuff @puffins-and-bears @tirnaillclan @ianlestraud-fr @starongie @jadedragons @fr-mar

There’s going to be a ball at the House of Alnilam! The clan’s secretary and treasurer Soloist has decided that the best way to make the existence of the clan more widely known and make connections across Sornieth is to host an event, and any clan is welcome to send a delegation!

The RP thread will open on March 5 and continue until April 1, and I’ll be posting some lore things on here too!

(Read this for more background)

[alnilam-fr]

Butter and Cinnamon

@jollyroger-fr @hellkite-fr @fr-owlistuff @puffins-and-bears @ianlestraud-fr @starongie @jadedragons @fr-mar

This story arc takes place concurrently to the main House of Alnilam lore, and will introduce Amaretto, Reverie, and Valentine! Read the rest of my lore here.

The taproom of the inn was deserted, dust motes drifting in the long beams of morning sunlight that streaked across the weathered planks of the floor. A few birds were chirping in the trees outside. Reverie sat down at the bar and rested his forehead against the rough wood, eyes drooping shut as his wire glasses slipped off his nose.

It had been a long night, but he had managed to chart out another section of the dreamscape. A demon had begun stalking him as he tried to navigate a particularly distorted part of the terrain, and he had barely been able to return to his own dream and awaken. 

“Good mornin’ to you,” said a cheery voice, and the Nocturne sat up and pushed his glasses back up his nose. There was a young Tundra standing in front of him, looking far too young to be working in this backwater inn. She had violet eyes as dark as blackcurrant jam, and she was smiling at him as though she had known him forever.

“I didn’t- I didn’t order anything,” he said as he noticed she was holding a tray with a coffeepot and a crumbly cinnamon cake. With a laugh, the girl put the tray down in front of him.

“It’s on the house, thought ya might need it,” she grinned. “It’s my own recipe, but if it’s not to your taste I can bring straight black.”

Reverie poured himself a steaming mug, smelling something like cinnamon mingled with the dark, bitter smell of coffee. He took a sip and raised his eyebrows, savoring the rich and slightly sweet flavor of the drink. “What’s in it?” he asked.

“Butter an’ cinnamon. I figured you looked like the cinnamon type.”

“I love cinnamon,” said Reverie, surprised. He took another long drink of coffee, the buttery taste slightly reminiscent of cookies that he had eaten in a lovely town many moons before. The cake was cinnamon as well, soft and light and just a little crisp at the edges, and he sat up straighter as he ate. “Thank you,” he added sincerely. “What’s your name?”

“Amaretto,” the Tundra replied brightly. She leaned over on the counter and nodded at the glowing runes just barely visible beneath his sleeves. “So from the looks of you I reckon you’re some sort of mage, or maybe a scholar.”

Reverie nodded slowly as he took another sip of coffee. “A...cartographer, of sorts. You could call me a mage.”

“Where ya travelling to?”

“Anywhere,” Reverie said with a slight shrug. “But tell me something about yourself. Aren’t you a little young to be working in an inn?”

“My parents packed me off soon as I was old enough to leave the nest,” replied Amaretto. Her smile never wavered, still radiant and twinkling. “It’s always been my dream to start up my own little bakery, an’ I’ve been working jobs to collect the treasure. Think I have just about enough now.”

Her eyes flashed and she straightened up, looking as though she had suddenly been struck by an idea. “You wouldn’t mind me travelling wit’ you for a bit, would ya? I need to look for a nice town to set up shop in.”

“The road is no place for a girl your age,” said Reverie doubtfully, but he wavered as he looked at Amaretto’s eager face. “A few days hence I heard of a town, not too small, on the edge of a forest. The travelers in the inn I stayed at said that the apothecary had closed down, and I do suspect that the storefront will still be available.”

“Oh, thank you!” beamed Amaretto, straightening up. “I’ll go there at once an’ see!” She looked very small and soft and young to be on the road alone, and Reverie sighed.

“I should accompany you,” he said. “You should not be out on your own.”

Amaretto pursed her lips. “I’ve been on my own a few years now, and nothing bad’s ever happened. An’ you’re on your way northward, I reckon, I wouldn’t want you going out of your way for me.”

“As I said,” Reverie told her mildly as he got to his feet, “I have no real destination, and the Sunbeam Ruins are as pleasant a place to pass my time as any.”

“Thank you! I can leave soon as I talk to the innkeep, she knows I’m only working here part-time, an’ I can gather up my things-”

Pouring himself another cup of buttery coffee, Reverie closed his eyes and began to sip at the warm mug. The bulk of his work was done in his sleep in any case, so there was no real reason not to escort this young dragon to town. And she did make good coffee.

[alnilam-fr]

Finally finished Aonani’s bio! As long as she has a sword and an enemy she’s pretty happy, and doesn’t see the need for a lot of knowledge of mathematics or literature or...basically anything besides weapons. She’s good-hearted, if a little gruff.

@fr-merethic

Aonani is a young paladin trained in the Infantry division of the Dawn's Dusk. While her formal training focused on hand to hand combat and the use of a variety of weapons, the young Guardian has innate magical abilities which she uses to augment her already formidable combat skills.

She came to the House of Alnilam not long ago on her Search, and discovered that her Charge was a scroll in the vast library discussing the origins ancient Beastclan martial arts. The scroll is too old and fragile to be moved out of the House without risking harm to the vellum, and Aonani enlisted the help of the mage Gwydion to build a warded glass case which remains in the library to this day. While there is a crisp military demeanor to her speech and actions, Aonani is perhaps not the most clever of the inhabitants of the clan. She has a one-track mind and is grimly determined, but does not adapt well to new situations and prefers a good fight to conversation. 

Usually, she can be found in the library guarding her scroll and challenging passerby to arm wrestling matches, or patrolling the borders of the enchanted forest. The unicorn Abelard does not seem to bother her.

[alnilam-fr]

Aonani grew up yesterday, but I just now got around to dressing her! She doesn’t have her bio done yet but she’s a big buff battle mage who trained with @fr-merethic‘s Dawn’s Dusk and is now at the House of Alnilam because one of the scrolls in the library is her Charge.

And Abelard got a makeover too because I gave Aonani his cloak, I think he looks more lean & mean this way tho~

[alnilam-fr]

Whiteout, Part Two

@puffins-and-bears @hellkite-fr @jollyroger-fr

Read part one here! This is something of a filler installment before the thaw and the official end of Chapter One.

Souhayla tripped and rolled in the white snow, clouds of glittering ice exploding into the air around her as she landed at the bottom of a drift, laughing. After a moment, Sabiyya’s face popped up over the top of the drift. “You should wear something warmer,” she said with a nervous flick of her crests. She was wrapped in a heavy fur cloak that she had found in one of the wardrobes in the palace, the soft blue-grey color of the sky just after sunset.

“The cold doesn’t bother me,” said Souhayla with a wide-eyed smile. Her face fell after a moment and blinked. “Will that cape keep you from getting cold again? You need to be safe.”

“Don’t worry,” Gwydion told her. “If she gets too cold you can just do...whatever it is you did before.”

“But I don’t know what I did,” Souhayla said in a soft voice, looking down at her feet. She was wearing white slippers embroidered with gold instead of walking barefoot, but the satin had become soaked with snowmelt. “I only put my hand out, like so, and she sat up.” 

She reached out and rested a hand on Sabiyya’s chest, and they stayed frozen for a heartbeat before the paladin turned away. “Gwydion said you were a Progenitor,” she said. “You have certain powers to protect your people.”

Souhayla closed her eyes, snowflakes glimmering on her eyelashes. “I have no people,” she said, and there was an ache centuries old in her childish voice. A golden tear ran down her high cheekbone, dropping onto the snow and winking out like an ember.

The light of the setting sun streamed a rich orange between the trunks of the slender birch trees and glittered on the icicles above them, and the sky in the east began to darken to a deep dusky blue. “We should return to the House,” said Gwydion, gently taking Souhayla’s hand to lead her back.

“Aye,” Sabiyya agreed, tugging her cloak around her shoulders to keep out a burst of bitter wind. “There’s no leaving the Silent Forest in this weather.”

Back inside the House, Gwydion rummaged through the pantry. “Is this cocoa powder?” he asked, holding up a small can. Souhayla appeared in the kitchen and hopped onto a counter, kicking her feet.

“I’m not sure,” she said. “The last time a tribe of Longnecks came through the forest they gave it to me, maybe two summers ago? It tastes bitter.”

Gwydion gave her a wide laughing grin and dashed off in search of some sugar, and the slender Nocturne watched him go with wide curious eyes. After a moment, she slipped back off the counter and went into her favorite room.

The best room in the House of Alnilam, according to all three of its inhabitants, was a room which had once been used as a drawing room. The cold marble floor was covered in a rich vermilion rug, and the couches were plush and comfortable. Sabiyya had discovered that the mahogany trunk held a number of dusty blankets, and Gwydion had taken to keeping a fire going in the small fireplace at all times and burning incense sticks to keep away the cold.

Sabiyya was already there, paging through a thick tome of gemstone correspondences and simple spells. She looked up when Souhayla arrived, and shifted to one side of the couch. “When do you think the snow will melt enough for me to travel through the forest?” she asked.

“I do not know,” Souhayla replied. “Every winter is a little different. Perhaps a week, perhaps two.” She looked at the paladin, suddenly interested. “Where did you say you were going?”

“Thought you’d be in here,” said Gwydion from behind them. He handed each of them a frothy mug from a tray, and Souhayla leaned forward to sniff the sweet, unfamiliar smell of the hot steam. “It’s hot chocolate,” Gwydion told her, flopping down next to the fireplace. “Or as close as I could get.”

She sipped at the mug and her eyes widened. “It’s good!” she exclaimed, immediately taking another gulp of the rich chocolate. The mug was warm against her palms.

Sabiyya took a small sip of hot chocolate and cleared her throat. “I am a member of the Dawn Guard,” she said, “An order of Paladins who dwell on the border of the Sunbeam Ruins and the Tangled Wood. I was left at their temple as a child, and I was raised in the Order. When I became lost in the Silent Forest, I was on my way to the Shifting Expanse to help with efforts to establish an outpost in the highlands.”

Pausing, she looked out the window at the dusky lavender sky, watching as a few more flakes of snow fell onto the heaped drifts outside. “No doubt they think me dead.”

“Well,” Souhayla said, “Winter is not long here, and the thaw should come soon. Then...you’ll be able to...”

“Souhayla!” exclaimed Gwydion, setting down his cup and leaning forward as the Nocturne began to cry her liquid light tears. A little awkwardly, he began to rub her shoulder. “It’s all right,” he said soothingly. “We’ll figure out how to break your curse before then.”

The twitch of Sabiyya’s frills showed her doubt, but she stayed silent and nursed her mug of hot chocolate for a few moments. “In any case,” she said, “I will not be leaving until the snow melts.”

And so they sat in silence as the fire crackled brightly in the small fireplace and the room filled with the smell of chocolate and wood smoke.