Posts by "ICARUS"

Check out the Court of Halcyon, holy knights of the Bleak Wilds and a growing unboarded proclan who aim to bring peace and order to Agrelos!

    "Templars of the Court, gather for this week's meeting!"


    It's already the third one he's hosted, at once as natural as breathing and yet a forever novelty — but really, who's keeping count? Low-burning blaze of the campfire sit before him, the golden tabby's face just visible above the dying hungry flicker of flames as he sits before the main tent. With the summer comes new warmth, though nothing near the heat of the Kingdom's sands. The northern winds remain as harsh and unforgiving as ever, and as his clanmates gather he finds himself thankful for the extra bit of heat that coughs up sparks into the summer breeze. Faces find their way to the normal gathering spot and Icarus dips his head in a steep nod of greeting. "Welcome, everyone. We have another joiner this week — Ellisiri C. , we hope you're settling in well." He offers an easy smile, a daydreamer's slow blink as he searches the crowd before him and gives a simple, wordless twitch of his whiskers.


    Never one to linger long, the tabby feline carries on breezily. " selah-eden-dimera , you're welcome step up to Courtier. And REESE. , I'm offering you the position of Magistrate. You can let me know what particular area you'd like to be in charge of when you're ready, but for now I'd like to thank you both for your hard work." The words grow more earnest as they tumble from his jaws, weighted by a blanket of syrupy warmth. The two are familiar faces by now, something like almost like friends and ones he's pleased to continually witness and promote the growth of. Just like a few of his other clanmates too — " Kagenosuke and DAEGU both receive shoutouts; it's been quite nice seeing you two around lately, keep it up. Oh, and before I forget, I'm awarding Selah the title of Monk for her religious devotion." May Naleren smile upon you, he'd say, if he weren't certain that the goddess already was. The girl is far more strict in her faith than he is, anyhow; the Justice wagers that he could learn a thing or two from her about such worship. Maybe he'll ask one of these days, but he has to reign in the yarn spun from his thoughts until he at least finishes the rest of the important announcements.


    "Our knighting ceremony for July is ongoing, so head over there if you'd like for your Templarship to be made official. Selah is also decorating the camp and Kagenosuke is hosting a game — be sure to check those out when you get the chance. If anyone wants to host this week's tasks, go right ahead." Icarus flicks an ear at each mention, searching the group once more before continuing onto the diplomatic affairs. The process of garnering allies has been a continuous one, though he can only hope that playing the long game will pay off. "This week I'll personally be visiting Solaris Kingdom, Wind Haven, Dark Dynasty, the Knights of Eden, and the Coven of Elysia to formally request alliances, but before I head out I'll be taking volunteers to fill these possible ambassador positions. You'd accompany me to prove that we have plans to ensure our allies will be well taken care of." A pause follows, silent encouragement to speak up suspended mid-air before he continues on smoothly. "Once we've at least extended some offers we'll be hosting a feast and jousting tournament to celebrate and get to know our potential new friends, so keep an eye out for that."


    A long exhale escapes his lips, breakneck meeting pace finally slowed to an all-but halt. Icarus doesn't take these gatherings for granted, but he knows that others have more important things in their day and they all have work to do in the week ahead, himself in particular. Things are starting to pick up again, and each new member is another whose well-being he's responsible for. Even so, the man's shoulders appear light, the beginnings of a smile start to pull at the edges of the feline's lips. He has a good feeling about the things that lie before them. "Finally, we're looking for feedback on how the Court is doing and what you'd like to see. Unless there are any questions or issues, you're all dismissed. Thanks for your all work and let's have another great week."

    The call summons his interest and brings to his mind's forefront memories of kithood — sharp mint and subtle lavender on his tongue, curled against downy white fur that envelops him in warmth like the sun, a mother's flower-fragile touch. Icarus isn't a healer, though he guesses that in some capacity he is; after all, he holds an equivalent rank in the Court and yet his only experience with herbs is a faint lullaby whispered on spring breezes. He'd been meaning to do something about that lack of knowledge at least for his clan if not to fulfill his own selfish desires, clamoring curiosity ignited by the nectarous scent of flora, the kind of bitter sweetness that makes the insides of his cheeks hurt as if he'd been smiling too wide. His medicinal skills might be wanting, but the keen intrigue that flows into the verdant pools of his gaze is enough to make up for it.


    Icarus allows himself to be pulled to the group, beckoned closer with pricked ears until the small gathering comes into view. Oasis sands shift beneath each pawstep as he takes his place among the others in attentive silence, passing over the group with inscrutable pensivity before peering into the infirmary itself. It's new and yet familiar, stinging reminder of the scars that line his shoulders and his long-ago stay in the old Solarian sick bay, now only a sunken memory. His attention shifts back to Merlot, another passing face he'd never quite known for all his comings and goings to and from the Kingdom. The gilded feline's head tilts, sunlight catching in the glitter of his warm gaze as he fixes it in anticipation, and he waits.

    The Court's numbers had dwindled upon his initial joining all those moons ago now, and their recently resurgence has been a slow, steady process. Icarus doesn't mind. He likes getting to know all his new clanmates, one at a time — he prefers to think of their brotherhood as a tight-knit one, these moors a place of blood-forged bonds and companionship found beside late-night campfires. What he means to say is that part of this place's charm for the Justice is the chance it allows him to get to know each and every new face, so unlike the Kingdom where so many seem to pass him by, blending into the crowd. Here, anyway, he takes it upon himself to check in, ensure newcomers settle in well, learn their stories and quirks. He has to believe that everyone he meets comes into his life for a reason — whatever it may be, he intents to find out.


    The golden-furred tom had tracked Selah back to her place of residence, pushing past hung-ajar door to invite himself inside (for all his diplomatic niceties, the concept of boundaries has rarely applied to him, though the girl doesn't appear to mind). He'd though that perhaps she'd need some help moving in, though as the feline hesitates within the doorway he notes the barren space and thinks distantly of where he might find some furniture. "I see you've chosen your home," he observes astutely. His gaze is layered with dreamy contemplation and warm curiosity, drifting like the moor winds back to where Selah stands. He holds up a thick, knitted blanket, made from pale yellow yarn and not without a few accidental holes. "I brought a housewarming gift. Nothing too exciting, but it can still get cold at night."

    Icarus can understand the initial hesitance a few of his clanmates hold toward the horses — he'd felt it himself, once, though his own had been less of a wary uncertainty and more a distant curiosity. The idea that one as small and fragile as he, a mere feline of average stature, would ride atop a creature more than a few times his size had seemed silly. He'd read all the classic novels, of course, he'd heard tales as a kit of knights who rode great steeds and conquered lands far and wide in the name of justice. That wasn't him, though — until one day it was. He would have never imagined this life for himself; a poet, maybe, a moon-kissed romantic who slumbers in witness of the heavens, perhaps, and yet not a Templar. Funny how he should end up leading them, and funnier still how it'd come to feel so right. Needless to say, he'd come around to the horse tradition. Aethon had been his only friend on many a lonesome journey, a silent but reliable supporter in his times of need. He won't soon forget to show such kindness in return.


    Alabaster-dappled paws lead him to the duo from across the wind-whipped grasses, brittle heath that whispers with the secrets murmured by tender summer's breeze. It calls to him as he pads through the upland turf, but beckoning louder is the presence of his clanmates, flickers of curiosity ignited in the depths of his cool verdant gaze as he observes them and the creatures they watch in turn. "Indeed," he murmurs, distant with contemplation while his eyes follow theirs out into the moors. Attention drifts once more with the sun-warmed winds, this time back to Reese and Selah, tail flicking steady in time with the beat of his own heart. "Maybe you should go say hello," the Justice suggests, the edges of his lips twitching with the temptation of a half-smile.

    And speaking of horses, here comes the Justice upon his steed. The thunderous sound of hooves rattling against the grassy hillside crescendos louder and louder until Icarus leans forward to pat the equine's side, prompting Aethon to slow to an easy halt with a quiet whiny. The golden tabby perches atop his companion to peer at Kinship, the air around her touched by the familiar scents of ocean-spray and flora. Emerald eyes sparkle with a trace of cool recognition, prompting him to purr in greeting, "Hey again. Back already?" His whiskers twitch with faint humor; Icarus is happy to have visitors, or anything to keep his days among the wilds interesting. Not that there ever seems to be a shortage to things to do around these parts, nor between his journeys to and from the Kingdom. His ears prick to hear her words, head tilting with curiosity as he rolls the question across his tongue in contemplation.


    The request isn't one he's heard before from a stranger upon their borders, and one he's not sure how to fulfill. He's not sure that the Court normally aids outsiders in finding companions of their own, though strangely he finds himself inclined to trust Kinship — maybe its a testament to his too-gullible nature, but he can't imagine any true reason to refuse. Naleren's way is all about good deeds and kindness, isn't it? "I suppose we could help you make that happen," Icarus says, words growing from at first only a thoughtful hum until his tone settles into casual decisiveness, followed by a dip of his head, "Though you'd have to promise to care for it, of course." He's realizing now that he hasn't gotten the chance the help someone choose a horse before. As a poet he tends to throw around words like sacred, but how else is he supposed to describe the bond between companion and knight? The thought of aiding another in the proceeds brings a smile to his lips, easy and genuine enthusiasm, warm and pointed like the sun's rays. "I think I saw a herd on the way over here — not far, we could go take a look," he offers, glancing toward Selah now. He doesn't think she has her own companion yet either; perhaps this might be a learning opportunity of all of them.

    /please make an ooc note if you would like your character to be knighted! all those who wish to be considered full templars (ie not squires) are meant to undergo this ceremony once either upon joining or graduating their apprenticeship. it's also customary for them to be presented with a personal weapon so let me know if yours should be given a specific kind! if not icarus will probably just use his own sword to knight them & if you'd like they can receive a weapon at a later date. you can also have your character be knighted in this thread at any point during the month of july!


    The first new month since the Court's rebirth, and the first knighting ceremony that rests fully in his paws. It's a big responsibility, and yet one he's proud to carry out — he hasn't forgotten how there was a time when he, too, had sworn this oath and become a true Templar, a time long before he'd been made Justice. It's an honor to stand where previous leaders have, to be the one watch his members grow and commit themselves to the Court. The tabby tom has always respected tradition, seen it as sacred to do something so time-honored and true, though even after so many moons of silence he'll still have to fill the large shoes of his forebears. At least Icarus is nothing if not confident — their strength returns, and he'll do what he must to ensure their ceremonies are maintained with dignity. This is bigger than himself, and it permits no room to be nervous.


    Summons had since been sent out beckoning the members to gather in the base, the cavernous main room their setting for the event. Dozens of previous pawprints line the exposed wall beyond the altar, a reminder of ceremonies just like today's now come and gone. The central hall is a echoing refuge from the windchill of the moors with stone arches and cool, smooth floors, so unlike the rolling grassy hills. Amid the glowing torches, golden pelt cast in their honey-warm light, the Justice stands before the altar, sword at his side and dressed in crimson cloak. "Templars of the Court," he begins, addressing the crowd with glittering spring gaze, "Today our newcomers and Squires will take an oath to uphold the Templar's code and add their pawprint to the wall, pledging their loyalty and taking their place as full members of the Court." The feline nods and then lifts his chin, scanning the group with focused-sunlight sharpness and proud warmth that begins to pull at the edges of his lips. "Those prepared to be knighted, please step forward."

    Speak and he shall appear, it seems. Icarus's eyes light up as they comes to rest upon the very creature in question, pleased to have found him so swiftly. A smile edges onto his maw, tugging gently at the edges of his lips before the man's words reach his ears and prompt his brows to knit and lips to slacken slightly. Had he given Jaymoon that impression? He decides that the Knight must simply be the nervous sort. "Hm? No, of course not," the tabby reassures him with a firm shake of his head. The smile returns, stronger the time, radiating easy brilliance like the sun that hangs lazily overhead and sets his honey pelt aglow. He doesn't think that Jaymoon needed to deserve a gift (thinking of the tom had merely given him a good excuse to knit), but even if that were the case Icarus would've readily given it to him regardless — he's kind and creative and a familiar face, and that ought to be more than enough.


    "I just noticed you always seem cold, so I made you this — " the golden-furred tom turns and from the satchel at his side he produces the sweater, holding it up for Jaymoon to see before offering it in his direction. The garment's thick, lavender yarn is sun-warmed and downy, the silver stitching on its back glittering as it catches in the midday light like the twin emeralds of his gaze. Icarus had modeled the jumper himself, figuring that his size is comparable enough to the other feline's, and happens to know that it's quite soft. It might be the sort of thing that he could wear himself back in the Court, but here... here the heat wraps him in its overbearing hug and Icarus nearly starts to sweat at the thought of needing extra layers where traversing the desert. As long as it at least partially does the trick for its recipient he'll be pleased. The trailblazer's whiskers twitch with warmth and he adds, "I can try to alter it if the fit isn't quite right, although no promises." It'd probably be better if he didn't — Icarus isn't confident in his abilities enough to ensure that he won't unravel the entire thing, but he wants Jaymoon to like it.

    Icarus, too, has done his fair share of traveling in the past week, and he sees even more in his near future. He's never minded such journeys though, not even the taxing or political kind — the golden tabby could trek across all of Agrelos and back again and still be satisfied as long as there are some decent sights along the way. He drinks in all of it with wide, round eyes as if he fears losing the memory, every sun-baked desert and whispering forest, every rolling meadow hill and craggy mountain peak. There's beauty in all of it that he wishes to know closely, and yet at the end of each long day it's here that he's happy to return to and rest his head. That relief is strange for someone who's never had a permanent residence, the warm comforts that wash over him like the flames of their campfires upon seeing the sprawling tents that dot their moor. He's never had the gentle sun-graced solace of a homecoming until so recently, but he's thinking he can get used to it. Still, Icarus isn't one to let his paws grow idle. If he's not moving from one place to the next, he ought to be keeping himself busy where he is. The Justice pads forth to answer Reese's call, ears pricked and eyes alight with curiosity. Though he's not always the best at committing to finishing tasks of his own, he's open to give it his best effort. The tom seats himself after Selah, whiskers twitching. "I'll have one too," he calls out casually.

    Between his membership in the Kingdom's artistry guild and his pursuit of tailoring in the Court, Icarus has been looking for an excuse to practice his crafting skills — the only issue had been that he doesn't need any clothes himself. His cloak is more than enough to be worn part-time; the difference in temperature between the wind-whipped moors and the sun-baked desert is jarring, and the latter has little need for additional layers. That said, he can think of one Solarian in particular who perpetually appears to be cold regardless. Icarus can't fathom how, considering the summer heat that bears down relentlessly upon the expanse, but eventually he'd decided it didn't matter. Instead he'd focused on that which he can create, weaving an endlessly-spun thread out of the same tales that he uses to map the stars. It had taken him a few nights in front of the fireplace in his house back in the Court and more-than-a-few needle pricks to his tender pawpads, but he'd finished the project with surprising swiftness. The feline's first attempt at a sweater had eventually turned into more of a blanket (a long story that he refuses to elaborate upon), though he'd found that, in this case, the second time's the charm. After a long process of dyeing, knitting, and embroidering, his efforts had at last yielded a pale purple sweater with a silver sun stitched onto the back. And yes, perhaps the sun is a bit off-center, and one of the arms might be slightly longer than the other, but Icarus had made it with care and he's proud of it. He can only hope that the recipient can appreciate it for that much, too.


    Having just returned from his other home, the tabby tom had only stopped by his room long enough to drop off a few belongings before going to scour the oasis town in search of a certain Suncircle Knight. Standing in camp with sweater in paw the midday sun glittering against his golden pelt, the Trailblazer calls, "Hey, anyone know if Jaymoon is around? I have something for him."


    / jaymoon. feel free to respond before!

    An audience with the queen herself? Icarus might've been pleased were he not already familiar with the Dawningcrown as a member himself. He offers a nod, the glittering warmth of his gaze and twitch of his whiskers giving away his half-joking nature as he finally answers. "Yeah, I'm leader of the Halcyon Court when I'm not here," he affirms breezily with a wave of a paw, as if it were a part-time job. He supposes it is in some ways, though Sangria likely already knows that such a position of authority affords little free time. The Court's comparatively small size is what allows him to spend time in the Kingdom, but it keeps him nothing short of busy regardless. It's a wonder he's here at all — in all honestly, Icarus can't stay away. Sangria is right to think of him as loyal, because for all his wanderings it's here that he's always pulled back to like the pull of the moon on the incoming tide. Steady and written in the stars. He can never be sure which is his truer home, but it must mean something that for all his responsibilities to the Court he'd chose to be here as well.


    The golden-pelted tom gives on of those signature easy smiles as Stalone approaches now, prompting him on his business. Icarus supposes they'll all be disappointed to find that this is little more than a run-of-the-mill 'visit'. His emerald-green gaze flickers back to Sangria at her words. "No issues though, just doing the rounds and making formal introductions on the Court's behalf since we're new." Very formal stuff indeed; waiting-on-the-border-even-though-he-lives-here formal, in fact. He guesses this would've been less strange if he'd just sent another clanmate to speak for the Court, but Icarus had thought it simple enough to swing by when heading back to the Kingdom anyway. "The Court is a proclan that values peace and justice — our camp is in the bleak wilds, but we have an outpost nearby. We're knights, but we specialize in smithing and tailoring, too." It's a bit more complicated than that, sure, but as far as promised introductions do it should suffice for now. Explaining an entire clan in a couple sentences is harder than he'd have expected. "I brought stuff, of course," Icarus adds, pushing forth the basket containing the fruits of their aforementioned trades: forged daggers and sewn cloaks layered neatly with a pawful of herbs. Giving gifts to a clan he's already a member of feels like he's giving it to himself, but Icarus shrugs it off with another small, self-aware grin.

    The first to arrive is a feline, greeting him with a polite hello and then a brief barrage of questions. Icarus finds himself offering a light, easy smile in return, a dip of his head following in respectful acknowledgement. The latter two question are simplest to answer first, so he gives a thoughtful hum in response, "Yeah, a fair amount of plants I suppose — and, well, there is an old farm, though I'm not sure that much grows there anymore." Icarus makes a mental note to check up on the place on his way back later, though he's not left to linger on it long when the Guardian arrives. The woman is only vaguely familiar at first, one he thinks he could've known as a passing face if not for her imposing countenance that he's sure he would not have forgotten. Her name, on the other hand, bears a reputation that precedes her. Icarus has read the pages of Solaris's history back to front, and the question of how a once-queen might've ended up here is an interesting one indeed. But he sets such trivialities aside for now, expression mild and impassive as he nods another greeting in return.


    "A pleasure to meet you both," the golden tabby says, warmth beginning to seep like honey into his tone, features slipping into an easy summer-bright smile. "I'm just here to formally make an introduction for the Court. We're a peaceful proclan of holy knights and we have an outpost nearby, so I figured we ought to drop by and say hello," Icarus explains breezily, waving a paw idly as he speaks. Ver is right in that it's a general rule of thumb that visits such as these would have some sort of political objective in mind, but the Justice has no intentions of making any requests at present. Hopefully the Haveners won't see this trip as wasting their time — he does have at least one thing to make it worth it. He nudges the gift basket forth, stacked neatly with hand-crafted daggers, cloaks, and herbs native to the wilds. "Brought some gifts for your time. From our blacksmiths and tailors, mostly."

    Well, aren't these people the friendly sort? Icarus hadn't been sure how soon anyone would come by, but little time is wasted before four faces have cropped up around him. He gives a dip of his head to the unspeaking husky, and yet no sooner does he attempt to speak than the large, winged creature lands before them. Casual warmth becomes clouded with something like wonder, the slight disruption in the air that ripples around him only a faint taste of what it must feel like to fly. He's only lost in that distant wistfulness for a heartbeat when his gaze sharpens once more, keen with curiosity but breezily kind nonetheless. "The Court of Halcyon, naturally," Icarus announces once more with a twitch of his whiskers. Perhaps he ought to avoid confusion by sticking to just one method of stating his clan's name, but the Justice doesn't seem terribly concerned. The man — Barghest, he's told — isn't wrong in his assessment of this venture being a political one, even if the tabby tom has strong objective in mind for this trip. Once more, however, more arrive before he can speak. The next is an even more curious-looking creature, though Icarus keeps his gaze even aside from the faint sparkle that dance across his verdant eyes at Blits's words. "Illegal? Well, not that I know of," he hums, casually thoughtful. The Court does in fact conduct trials and would be more than happy to try any criminals the Coven might have, but considering that this is only an initial visit he refrains from overstepping any boundaries.


    Finally there's the leader — someone on equal footing with himself, though considering his presence in her territory Icarus supposes he ought to bend the knee. The feline offers another simple nod of greeting, mild features finally slipping into an easy smile as he addresses the others. "I'm just here to make an introduction on behalf of the Court. Seeing as we're new and all, we just wanted to make the rounds and say hello." New isn't exactly true and Icarus knows it, but they're new to the other clans of Agrelos and that's all that matters right now. Best not to get hung up on technicalities when attempting to make a good first impression. He finally pushes forth the gift basket to reveal its contents: a few daggers, a couple neatly-folded cloaks, and a pawful of herbs. "Brought some goodies with me, too," he adds with a brief pause. Now how to introduce a group... the golden-furred tom gives a flick of his tail. "To tell you a bit about us, the Court is a proclan and considers ourselves to be holy knights, as followers of Naleren, and we seek peace and justice in Agrelos. We live close in the bleak wilds, which is why we thought to get to know a few of our neighbors nearby." And that was it, the swiftest of swift crash courses on the Court's often-complex culture. Icarus isn't sure that such visits with no immediate political requests are commonplace, but he certainly thinks it the polite thing to do.

    Icarus had gathered swiftly that the moons in which he'd been gone had been... eventful, to say the least. His most vivid memories of the Kingdom take place in crisp fall and bleed into tender early spring, stretching from Claes's reign into only the beginning of Marigold and Sangria's. The former royal isn't a face that Icarus could ever claim to know closely, but he'd always been one he recognized, even respected. Maybe he'd liked to have known him better — he still does, he supposes, but things have changed. This Marigold is different; this Marigold is a distant, struggling man. Icarus is unfortunate enough to have arrived at the wrong time, to miss his rise to power and only be present for his grand fall from grace. The feline considers his own poor timing no fault of the late king's own, though. He's a poet, a writer, a romantic to his very bones. He knows how many ways a story can be spun, sees the waves of tumult that writhe and struggle beneath the surface, gasping out for air only to choke and sink once more. Icarus has not known great hardship in his life, not the sort that mars Marigold's own. But he likes to think he understands it, or at least he wants to.


    Melodies ring clear through the Solarian camp and pull his paws closer across the sun-baked sands, a tether of curiosity that summons him into the commune guild where Duskbreaker stands before the fallen king. Icarus hesitates for only a moment before drawing closer, eyes fixed on the feline who sits tapping at the keys. The golden tabby doesn't know much about music, but one of his only clear memories of interacting at all with Mari was when he'd held the instrument workshop — the one where Rus had acquired his beloved lyre, the one he can still barely play. The tom doesn't know much about music, yes, and yet he feels his heart thrum in time with the notes, a call he doesn't know how to answer. He casts a wordless glance in Meenah's direction, searching the woman in silence. Her words hang in the air heavier than the summer heat, and there are hundreds more left unspoken. He watches but doesn't pry, simply turns back to Marigold and the piano. "It is," he hums in quiet agreement. Emerald-green eyes have grown round with childish wonder, deep pools that dance and swirl with keen thought as he gazes at the other male as he plays. Warmth cuts through, easy but focused, a soft ray of sunlight that effortlessly bathes him in light. "Don't suppose you offer lessons, do you?" Icarus muses lightly with a twitch of his whiskers, finally settling himself. The suggestion is meant to be inoffensively half-serious, but more importantly it's meant to be an offering of peace, an extension of hopeful potential kindness. Icarus wants to learn from Marigold, wants to have the opportunity to admire him again, wants to believe in him in his own silly little way, if only he'll be allowed the chance.

    Icarus had never properly announced his guild joinings, but he's long since begun considering himself a member of each of them. Don't tell the other guild heads, but artistry has always been his favorite (as if it isn't already obvious). The tabby tom enjoys pursuing diplomacy, strategy, medicine, and whatever other bits of knowledge he can pick up along his travels — creative tasks, however, have always been the ones he's found himself best-suited for. He holds a certain reverence for it; he remembers the first pelt-painting session he'd attended vividly, remembers how at the time it'd been the closest thing his paws had ever known to worship, remembers how sacred it seemed to pass down such a craft, to share flesh in honor of the sun. It's a poetic way of thinking about it, of course, but he's nothing if not a romantic to his very bones. The act of creation itself, be it his poorly-sewn tailoring crafts from the Court or the fever-dream sonnets that crowd the pages of his journal, is divine at its very core, and Icarus has always known that he'd die for a taste of the heavens.


    The golden feline allows himself to be summoned at the call, smooth pelt glittering beneath the desert sun's glow. He's not sure how on earth Jaymoon could be wearing a blanket in such summer heat, though Icarus pushes such considerations aside in favor of focusing on the matters at hand. The Trailblazer settles among the duo within the guild hub, silent for a long moment as he admires the tapestries and paints that adorn the adobe building. At long last his verdant gaze falls to flicker between the two other toms, inscrutably pensive and yet dancing with knife-sharp interest. "Hey Jay, Mari," he greets breezily, lips pulling into an easy half-smile with a twitch of his whiskers. He's tempted to offhandedly ask about today's agenda, if only to fill the silence, but he's aware that their Goldenblood appears to be the self-conscious sort and Icarus doesn't wish to pressure the poor man. Instead he falls into a cool, comfortable silence, content to blink thoughtfully at his surroundings once more.

    Well, this is a bit awkward. Icarus isn't used to waiting at the Kingdom's border, rather accustomed to strolling across it with ease. This is his second home, after all, and the first one he'd ever truly known aside from his brief stays elsewhere. The coarse sands are just as familiar as the springy soil of the wilds that raised him, the dry heat that lingers in the back of his throat with each inhale now a strange comfort. How he wishes to simply carry on to the oasis, curl up beneath the palm trees' shade and take a dip in the cool waters — he can later, of course, but this is official Court business. The tabby tom seats himself at the territory's edge with a gift basket he'd gathered himself squarely placed between two ivory-dappled paws. It seems rather odd to be giving one of these to his own clanmates, but he figures it's the thought that counts. "Hey," the feline calls out into the empty desert, squinting against the brightness of the sun. A warmly lopsided smile works its way onto his lips, clearly amusing himself by visiting his own clan. Still, he straightens and continues to peer into the sand-baked lands with contemplative verdant gaze in attempt of saving some semblance of professionalism. "It's Icarus, I'm here on the Halcyon Court's behalf."

    Second on today's list of travels is the meadow and its mountain, rolling hills not unlike his home save for the honey-sweet taste of nearby flora and bitter, distant scent of ash. Wind Haven is a curious place, and not one he is altogether familiar with. It'd been the first clan he'd joined all those moons ago, if only for a brief time. A kind of sanctuary, they call themselves, guardians of the great shadowy peak. Curious indeed. Icarus's opinion of them is positive enough, though he's well aware that he'll likely still need to make a good impression this second time around considering the length of time past since his last stay among the cottage-dwelling Haveners. The tabby tom approaches the border on paw rather than horseback this time, gift basket of goodies teetering carefully between clenched jaws. He eases it to the ground as he draws to a halt upon catching the familiar scents, pausing in silence in stand and gaze out at the vast hillside. It reminds him of the wilds, this place, but... brighter. More alive, and with no everlasting chill to be shielded from. He bears his cloak nonetheless, the Court's sigil glittering gold beneath the midday sun just as the hilt of his sword reflects its rays. Icarus seats himself now, ears pricked as he calls with breezy politeness, "Hello, I'm Icarus. Here on behalf of the Court of Halcyon." Silence shrouds him once more as his tail comes to rest across ivory paws, hoping the words had been enough to summon the attention of others.

    Icarus has been here before. He'd joined once, briefly, no more than a pawful of days before disappearing back into the night just as swiftly as he'd once came. The Justice figures he should be grateful for the experience, though, as he'd known now to leave his horse companion behind due to the whole floating island situation. It's ever-curious, the source of such magic a lingering call he cannot dispel from the back of his mind. Then again, Icarus half-thinks that knowing the how might just ruin the mysterious majesty of it all: the closeness of the sky, the feeling that he might reach out and grasp the sun, the way the stars appear to be reflected so vividly in this place. Some questions may be best left unanswered. The golden tabby resigns himself to that position, and still wonder does not entirely escape him. He makes his way up to the island and halts a few meters from the edge at its apparent border, gift basket in paw as he sits. "Hello? I'm Icarus, here on behalf of the Halcyon Court," he calls, polite air to the words as they slip easily into the warm summer breeze. The feline then waits, straightening his position and peering out into the territory that sprawls before him, clouds of thoughtful patience cleaved by the warm glitter of awe that dances across his gaze.

    Icarus gives a polite nod of thanks as the other feline pushes forth the gift basket, tail flicking thoughtfully at her words. Simply a curious visitor, then? Icarus can admire that — his own interest is sparked when hearing the name Drowned Rift. Must be another group; surely not one that is actually drowned? He slides a sideward glance at Selah upon her approach, whiskers twitching at his attention returns to the stranger. "Well, I should hope I'm well-versed. I'm the leader here," the tom purrs mildly, a good-natured twinkle briefly flashing in his gaze before it falls into contemplation once more. How to describe the Court to an outsider... he supposes he ought to start getting good at delivering this spiel sooner rather than later. "The Court is a proclan. We consider ourselves to be Naleren's holy knights — our group values liberty, justice, and the Luxum faith, and it's our aim to one day bring peace to Agrelos through diplomatic and strategic means," Icarus says, words chosen with careful decisiveness. That would be the sort of description one would find down in the library, anyway. Maybe it makes them sound a bit uptight and stuck-up, but Icarus gives another of those easy grins. "A few of us also ride horses and specialize in blacksmithing and tailoring, if that's of any interest." The first bit tends to be especially curious to newcomers, though the tom himself only flicks an ear and tilts his head. "If you don't mind, could I ask about the... uh, Drowned Rift?" The visitor is right — he doesn't know of any interactions with the other group either, and only thinks it fair to make it an information trade. Perhaps a more official relationship could be pursued.

    "Templars of the Court, gather!"


    Another week has passed and the words are beginning to feel more natural to say. It's only his second meeting in the grand scheme of things, and yet he faces that gather around him are familiar and it makes the weight on his shoulders that easier to bear than he'd initially feared. There's a comforting simplicity to the day-in-day-out nature of these events. He sits before the main tent, tail flicking steadily from where it rests on his alabaster-dappled paws, watching in casual silence as Templars stream from their tents to settle before him. Icarus dips his head in greeting to them all and wastes no time in beginning. "Our only joiner this week is selah-eden-dimera ; we're glad to have you with us and hope you're settling in well," the golden tabby starts, seeking out the girl in the crowd to offer a twitch of his whiskers in unspoken greeting. "Out of those that registered for our trades in the past week, we only have one new mentor-apprentice pair to assign: I'll be mentoring Selah in tailoring." The tom's lips finally split into a warm, easy smile at the words. Icarus doesn't know that much about the art of tailoring himself, but he's picking up a lot from the Kingdom and hopes he'll be able to pass it on adequately. Either way, he finds himself excited for the challenge.


    Icarus straightens once more, carrying on with his typical mild air, "Onto rank changes, selah-eden-dimera can step up to Herald and REESE. is promoted to Courtier. Selah, I'll also be awarding you the title of Ranger for your potential. Congratulations and thanks for your hard work, both of you." The words are earnest and there's a shine to his emerald eyes, approving nod in each's direction. He feels fortunate to have no demotions to offer this time, only well-deserved promotions.


    "We've had a few things to check out this week. Reese is hosting a bonfire, Selah is hunting, and I'm having some tea," he announces next, pleased with the positive happenings around camp lately. They might not be the busiest of clans, but at least they keep their paws from growing idle. A quick clear of his throat and the Justice continues. "As for things to look forward to, our introductory visits to the clans we seek to establish a diplomatic relationship with will hopefully be wrapped up in the coming days. Next week we'll likely be sending out proper alliance requests and putting together a celebratory event once they've been confirmed. Our July knighting ceremony is also coming up at the start of the month, so keep an eye out for that as well as the next weekly tasks, which I believe Reese previously volunteered for." Not much of importance there, just keeping the others up-to-date. They're meant to be a democracy, after all. Icarus blinks idly out at the group and finishes, "If there are no questions or concerns, you may all be dismissed. Thanks for another pleasant week, and keep up the good work."