#ch: aonani

[alnilam-fr]

War Council

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

Read the previous update here! (Part One) (Part Two) 

“Shade?” asks Gwydion, leaning forwards across the great polished-oak table. “Are you certain?”

Sabiyya has summoned all the members of the clan into the vaulted feasting hall, a barely used room coated with a thin silver blanket of dust. Firefly-colored wards glow softly on the plate glass windows. 

“Nearly sure,” responds the fae paladin. “If not, then some other dark thing of a similar kind. We cleansed it out of the spirit Midori, but there is a...nest, of sorts. In an old temple in the forest.”

“I know that place,” Souhayla says, the first she has spoken since the meeting was called. She is at the head of the table, perched on a velvet chair much too large for her. “The old Lightweaver’s temple. It is on the edge of my territory, but I’ve been there often. There was never any sign of Shade before.”

“Perhaps something brought it here?” suggests Soloist. His eyes dart nervously around the room, and he shapes a sign against evil with his slender fingers. “An infection, of sorts. There are Shade beasts in the Hewn City that might have come over the river.”

Gwydion shrugs, a spark of magic dancing between his thumb and forefinger as he looks up at the ceiling. “The Shade comes and goes,” he says. “It’s chaos incarnate, there’s no reason for it to follow logical rules.”

“But it lives on our world,” Meridian protests. She is seated beside Soloist, and she places a petal-soft hand on the Wildclaw’s shoulder. He is trembling like a leaf caught in the wind, but his hands relax slightly at her touch. “We have rules. And it might not be Shade after all.”

Aonani paces the floor, the polished wood creaking beneath the weight of her boots. Under one arm, she carries her Charge in a silver-edged scroll case. “Is there a way to know for sure?”

At once, Souhayla rises up from her seat and runs from the room, her white skirts swept behind her. “Wait!” calls Gwydion, and leaps over the table to run after her. 

“I should bring the pardae inside,” murmurs Saraquael. “I’m sorry I can’t be of more help. We had little trouble with Shade in Nature territory.” The rangy Skydancer stands, placing her feathered hat back into her head as she walks out of the hall. After a few seconds, the dragons still seated hear the sound of a door opening and closing.

“Could she have brought the infection?” Sabiyya asks. Her frills twitch as Soloist glares at her, his creamy eyes sharp. “Only a question,” she adds with a hint of iron in her voice.

“It’s not her,” Souhayla says, her voice ringing like a bell as she appears in the entry to the hall. In one hand, she holds a silver-backed mirror with a shining sunset-red surface. The Nocturne lifts the mirror, turning it so that the gathered dragons are reflected in its surface, shimmering pink and red. “I looked as she went out.”

“Is that a scrying mirror?” Gwydion asks as he comes in behind her. “I didn’t know we had any.”

With a small smile, Souhayla tells him, “It’s from Arokh. The Bloodborn prince.”

“Oh,” says Gwydion, and steps back. He slips into his seat and looks down at his steepled fingers. “Do we know it works?”

“Hold up your hands,” Souhayla tells Aonani. The Guardian blinks at her and sets down the scroll case before raising her hands. In the mirror, there are dark, turbulent spots across the tall paladin’s gauntlets, and Aonani gasps and wrenches them off, dropping them onto the table. (Her hands are clean beneath, but the blackness slowly swells to cover the discarded armor.)

“Residue,” Gwydion mutters. “Invisible, but nearly as dangerous.”

“Have you had dealings with the Shade before?” Soloist asks, keen-eyed. Gwydion raises an eyebrow and nods, but says nothing more. Outside, the wind picks up and whistles around the stone corners of the House.

“So,” says Sabiyya. “In the morning Souhayla, Aonani and I will go to the temple with the mirror, and see what we may discover.”

“I should come too,” Gwydion cuts in, and Sabiyya sighs but acknowledges him with a shallow nod and flick of her frills. “And Gwydion. Once Saraquael returns with the pardae, Gwydion, Soloist and I will reinforce the wards surrounding the House.”

“Here I am,” says Saraquael, entering with three young pardae in her arms. Souhayla turns the mirror towards her, seeing no sign of darkness in the silk-smooth surface. 

With a plan in sight, the atmosphere in the dusty hall becomes more relaxed, and Gwydion throws a log onto the great fire and sparks it to life. Warmth floods the hall, and Soloist takes a leatherbound notebook from his satchel and begins to scribble down the events of the meeting with a graphite stick.

“Who wants a drink?” asks Meridian.

Souhayla slips out unnoticed as the Imperial woman begins to pour drinks from a bottle of mead. She sits on a couch in the library and lights a candle with a snap of her fingers, looking down at the round, heavy mirror in her lap. 

“I fear this will be of more use than I expected,” she murmurs, and looks out the bay window at the star-dappled sky.

[alnilam-fr]

Dark Water, Part Two

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

Read Part One here!

“There it is,” says Sabiyya tersely, holding up the ball of light in her hand. The pale yellow glow casts long shadows through the forest and illuminates ivy-covered white stone walls in front of them. “Almost wish we had that unicorn here,” she mutters.

“Abelard is away often,” Aonani rumbles. She draws her cape a little more tightly around her shoulders and raises her sword as she walks forward, up to the stone arch of the ruined temple. After a moment, her forehead furrows. “Sabiyya. Bring the light over here.”

As the Fae extends her hand, a soft glow spreading through the glade, the wall of darkness inside the archway becomes more pronounced. Sabiyya’s frills twitch, and she steps a little nearer to the opening. The shadows are undaunted, and seem to bulge out slightly- an oilslick stain in the summer air.

“That’s very bad,” she breathes. “We should go back.” A twig cracks in the distance, and in a swift movement Sabiyya spins and launches a dagger of light into the forest. Something darts through the circle of light, and Aonani sees a metallic green gleam at the edge of the trees.

“There,” she says, pointing with the end of her broadsword. Sabiyya’s bright eyes narrow and she gathers another globe of light between her fingers.

“Come into the light!” she calls out, and the creature moves forwards, slowly. It is a suit of armor, made in a similar design to the delicate paneled armor which Sabiyya wears. As the light shifts, the ghostly form of a Skydancer can be seen within the suit.

“Midori,” says Aonani in a low voice. The spirit’s head turns, fixing wide obsidian-dark eyes on the caped Guardian, and she smiles with a row of teeth like flint arrowheads before racing past them and into the forest. 

The paladins exchange a quick glance and pursue her, down the winding paths of the night forest. Fireflies blink in the air around them, baffled by the light trailing out from Sabiyya’s hands, and Aonani ducks under branches as she sprints after the spirit.

At last they come to the edge of the river. Midori hesitates at the edge of the silver water, her ghostly silhouette fading in and out in the light. She turns her head back to look at the two dragons bursting out of the forest, and spreads her wings.

And then Aonani rams into her and knocks her into the river. The spirit screams, clawing at the tall Guardian with dark-dripping metal talons, but Aonani hangs on grimly and holds her in the current.

“Can you cleanse her?” she demands, looking up at Sabiyya. The Fae spreads her hands and closes her eyes, a soft and sourceless light flooding the forest as she chants under her breath.

Midori wails, but the flowing water and Aonani’s calloused hands hold her fast as the darkness leaks out of her. There is a great lightning-flash of brilliance, and Aonani closes her eyes against the light.

When she opens them again, blinking wine-colored afterimages from her sight, Midori is lying limp and pale in the river. 

The spirit stands on uncertain legs, drops of water falling from her armored shoulders, and the eyes she turns on the Guardian are green as sunlight on leaves. She says nothing, but fades into a shaft of moonlight with a whispering sigh.

“We should return to the House,” says Sabiyya, and Aonani nods.

[alnilam-fr]

Dark Water, Part One

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

“Here,” says Aonani. She rests a hand on the trunk of a peach tree. The evening wind is cool, too cold for summertime, and it rustles the edges of her golden cloak. A few crickets chirp in the soft shadows beneath the leaves. “I found it while I was patrolling the edges of the gardens yesterday.”

Behind her, Sabiyya draws her sword and walks toward the tree. “Back away from it,” she says in a tense voice. There are black veins running beneath the tree’s bark, and when the paladin plucks a round peach from the branches and breaks it open the golden inside is streaked black and tar-sticky.

“Some of the birch trees have it too,” Aonani adds. “With Dawn’s Dusk we were taught to look for signs of infection in the surrounding environment when we suspected Shade poisoning. I haven’t had time to search the whole forest, but the poison runs deep.”

Slowly, Sabiyya nods. She drops the peach to the ground and stomps on it, orange and black juice running beneath the heel of her golden boot. “We should investigate further before returning to the House.”

“Should we get Gwydion?”

“Not yet. He’s too reckless, and he’s likely to accidentally set off the Shade pocket before we can locate it.” She shifts her grip on her sword’s hilt and raises her left hand, light blooming from her fingers as she walks into the shadows of the trees.

Aonani presses her lips together and draws her own broadsword, her cape flowing behind her as she strides after the Fae paladin.

In the forest, the dusk-song of the crickets is muted, only a few chirps sounding from the undergrowth. The usual quiet of the enchanted wood is laced with a feeling of dread, and the two paladins look about them uncertainly. “Stay wary,” Sabiyya says, slipping into the role of commander. She twitches her frills, laying them low against her head.

 Aonani nods once, moving to cover the Fae’s blind spots. “The whole forest seems laced with it,” she says in a low voice.

“Raejiisa!” shouts out Sabiyya. A few long heartbeats pass, heavy silence hanging over the forest. The sun slips below the horizon, the sky shading to a dusky purple scattered with silver-point stars.

And then the earth rumbles, a great mound of soil rising up. The dirt falls away to reveal the shape of the forest spirit, a towering woman with branching ivory antlers and glowing golden eyes. “Small paladin,” she says with a fanged smile. “Where is your friend?”

“Gwydion is busy,” says Sabiyya. “Do you know where this Shade-poison is coming from?” she demands, her frills flaring up. “The whole forest is running black with it.”

The spirit frowns. There are golden jingling bracelets around her bare mudstained palms and bare feet, and they make pale chiming noises as she moves. “The other spirit. The nymph. I have not seen her in many risings of the sun, and last I saw she was acting...erratic. Her eyes were black.”

“Why didn’t you tell anyone?” demands Sabiyya. Her frills are fully extended and quivering with suppressed rage. Behind her, Aonani takes a wary step back.

Raejiisa shrugs. “The forest will endure,” she says. “I am old. I have seen many things come to pass.” After a moment she adds, “Go to the sundial grove and walk north into the woods. You will come to a ruin. Do not enter the tabernacle.”

She turns and walks away, fading away between the ghostly trunks of the birch trees. “Spirits,” says Sabiyya bitingly. “Never reliable.”

[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]

Hollow Lands and Hilly Lands

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

Aonani doesn’t have her bio done yet because I keep procrastinating, but here’s her first lore appearance! Read my previous lore update here and check out all my lore here!

Writing music

Aonani’s eyes opened as the first rays of sunlight spilled over the horizon. She stretched and stifled a yawn, revealing pointed canines as she tipped her head back. The spring wind was cool, almost cold, and the young Guardian shivered a little as the chill sank through her cotton clothing. 

Pulling her glimmering cloak a little more tightly around her shoulders, Aonani picked a few sticks off the ground and snapped them in half, adding them to the fire pit from the night before. She pulled flint and steel out of her bag and struck them together until the coals flared up, then tucked them away and held out her hands to warm them over the flames.

Keeping close to the warmth of the little fire, Aonani watched the dawn roll over the pine forest, turning the tips of the needles to gold. A ruined tower of white stone stood not far away from where she had made her camp, nearly overgrown with ivy, and the pale marble gleamed in the early morning light.

A pang of hunger twisted the Guardian’s stomach and she stood, buckling on her sword and slinging her bag across her back. 

She was tall and lanky, deep copper hair twisted into an intricate pattern of braids against her scalp, and her skin was a dusty olive. Her movements were crisp and military, betraying none of the aching weariness that had taken hold of her for the past months.

For many moons now, Aonani had been Searching for her Charge, but she had found nothing that drew her interest, and so she went on. She had made her way through the whole of the north of Sornieth, from the Hewn City to the Behemoth and the Pillar of the World, but something seemed to draw her back to the domain of the Lightweaver.

She stamped out the fire and adjusted her pack, then set out across the countryside once more. The cool sunlight flooded through the pine forest, and a sleek brown and white ferret poured itself over the path without stopping to glance at her. Aonani took a slice of dark rye bread from her pack and began to tear off pieces to eat as she walked.

At last, she came out of the pine forest into a flowering meadow, and butterflies flew up around her with each step. For a moment, Aonani paused and watched them, a flurry of white and brown wings across the golden and blue wildflowers. The smell of the blossoms was nearly overpoweringly sweet, and she continued on.

She had not seen a town for many days now, only overgrown ruins of pale stone. Another ruin rose in front of her, hanging moss cascading down from the flared buttresses. A glimmer of sunshine yellow caught Aonani’s eye, and she walked over and bent down to brush away the moss.

A vein of sacridite was hidden beneath the dark moss, and the Guardian poked in the earth to expose more of it. Most of the crystal was blue-black and lightless, but pieces here and there still glowed a soft and welcoming yellow. She broke off a chunk and straightened up, holding it to the sun.

“I wish I might find my Charge,” she said, her voice creaky from disuse. The crystal became very warm in her hand and then cooled again, but after a few long moments nothing had changed. With a snarl, she crushed the stone to powder and brushed it from her hands.

Around her boots, the dust began to glow, and rose into the air shining firefly-bright. It trembled in a bright cloud before her before sweeping off to the northwest.

“Wait!” cried Aonani, running after it with long strides. She was less than graceful, sticks snapping beneath her heavy boots, but her long legs lent her swiftness. Dusk began to seep across the Sunbeam Ruins, but the glowing haze of sacridite dust did not slow. 

Aonani’s breath was hot and ragged in her throat, and she slipped and fell, skidding across the forest floor. She struggled to her feet again and looked around, and saw the bright glow fading away among the tree trunks. Despite her efforts to catch up again, it vanished.

“Come back,” the Guardian said weakly, and crumpled to her knees. Wisps of hair had come undone from her neatly woven braids, and her palms and legs were scratched. She looked around and saw that she was in a birch forest, the trees lean and ghostly white around her.

After a few long moments, Aonani regained her breath. Moving in her usual efficiently brisk manner, she checked through her gear and tightened her sword belt. She would need a place to camp for the night, outside of this forest- the trees here seemed to hum with magic, and it made her uneasy.

Getting to her feet, she rearranged her cloak and picked up her pack once more before striking out through the dusky forest.