Please stay, for this fear will not die; Vanquish

[Noori]

Most days, most days stay the sole same
Please stay, for this fear it will not die
Down low, down amongst the thorn rows
Weeds grow, through the lilies and the vines

Well, you see, the Dale kinda sucks dick (Noori would know).

It’s been a good half-decade spent over in the green, green kingdom, but after endless time frolicking through long grasses, cool rivers, berry orchards and all things spring, Noori got bored.

Bored? You ask? Well, think about it this way. If you were a hair artist, the best in the world, ande you could only do one type of hairstyle or use one colour for dye, wouldn’t that be THE WORST?

Noori thinks so. She’s mastered the art of Spring. Fuck, she is the Spring. So why not go do something else?  Why not go reunite with her dead not-dad who basically took her shattered, schizophrenic self and squished it all back together with quiet love and behind-the-scenes nurturing. None of this daughter-of-a-queen bullshit. Just nice, soft stuff.

So maybe that’s why she finds herself here again, smiling tearfully at a patch of sand that cannot be His favourite patch of sand by any stretch of the imagination, growing miniature cactus fruit plants all around her hooves like little crosses erected over graves.

Noori has always been a romantic, after all. And she’s definitely still a little insane; but that keeps things fun.

Right?

noori

[Vanquish]

[qu

The great winged black was shading himself beneath the boughs of the colossal oak that rose a thriving thirty feet from the sand, branches heavy with health like it had always belonged. Vanquish spent most of his time darkening the Deserts sky with his wide shadow or patrolling its borders like some eager young soldier and not the king who already wore the crown.  But when he wasn’t prowling his country-land or buried beneath his golden queen’s touch - he was beneath his tree, where his skeleton’s shadows didn’t follow and his heart ached a little less.

Yael had called his children and grandchildren to come to the Deserts – to him, in the very first days of his resurrection. Yes, some had come, but they come with less smiles and more scowls of strangers than he had imagined. And still, the ones he had craved the sight of the faces of the most, besides Kreios, had not even come at all. There was no question that those of his direct descent had received the summons, as clear and close as a lover’s breath in your ear, but they had just chosen to ignore it. Kratos, Tarnished, Caius, Dorne…they had not come to him. Even though The Nightwalker had only allowed his heart to keep open a small sliver of a hopefulness for Dorne or Tarnished, he was more surprised to see that both Kratos and Caius were purposefully absent. But that small sliver was crumbled away more and more as each day’s sunset slipped down and they still had not come until there was nothing left but numbness where that sliver had been.

And even though there had not been much more but well-bred politeness from his second eldest son, Kreios had still come. Had even said he would be back soon and that was reason enough for Vanquish to give thought to smile to himself as the sands swirled at his feet and carried Noori’s scent churning into his nostrils. He is stepping from beneath the twisted and gnarled oak branches within breaths and unfurling his wings to slip into the sky before he finds her in His Gardens, little red blooms flowering around her.

He steps from the sky, ink-skin sleek and unblemished except for his trademark scars, his dragonwings pliant and young. The Percheron laughs as the cactus patches sprout from her hooves, “My Noori,” he blusters unceremoniously, striding to her side within two long-legged steps and shoving his muzzle beneath her armored neck, “the gods are too good to me,” he says, more allowed than just to her.



.

vanquish

dragon king of the deserts

[Noori]

Most days, most days stay the sole same
Please stay, for this fear it will not die
Down low, down amongst the thorn rows
Weeds grow, through the lilies and the vines

The thought of heralding a family reunion had once struck Noori as a grand idea, the thought of showing off in front of her countless siblings a very tempting one – until she thought of the siblings themselves. At this point, Noori could be walking by one of her own every day without even realizing it. Shahrizai and Wrynn had taught her as much (she hasn’t visited the meadow since, she’ll have you know).

And what of her own children? Well, the topic remains rather taboo. Mother Spring knows that Son Rain has made a happy – lonely – little nest up north will all the other fairies, and Daughter Ivy frequents the meadows, if her winged sources speak the truth. Of Son wolf, however, nothing comes: her spies find nary a hair of his hind end, leaving her all wrought and tormented inside.

Well, maybe some of the time.

And of the last one, the third boy, well, that one she truly does push from her mind. She’s done no better than Scorch, and Takei is living, abandoned proof of that.

She’s startled by her name on his tongue, or to be proper, she’s startled by his tongue at all. Gasping animatedly as the dragon swoops into the curve of her neck, Noori stares blindly for a moment before tilting her head and hugging the man for all he’s worth.

Releasing the king when she realizes that perhaps bark isn’t what you want digging into your neck, Noori steps back abashedly. It only lasts a moment. Lips splitting into an enormous grin, Noori’s hooves raise and fall into the sand, a happy little on-the-spot dance. A small squeal manages to break past her soundlessness, and when her feet stop dancing and her head finds itself beneath his neck for a change, words follow, too.

“No, it is I the gods are good to, papa.”
She feels almost like a girl again, beneath his vast shadow.
“Welcome back to Beqanna.”

noori

we gon assume that schiz Noori called Van dad because THIS IS ADORABLE FITE ME