Ozie » Hibernal Den » Sky

Sky

(#52016254)

Level 1 Skydancer

Familiar

Spellwrought Ambassador

Energy: 50/50

Personal Style

Apparel

Skin

Scene

Physical Attributes

Battle Stats

Measurements

Length

3.23 m

Wingspan

5.37 m

Weight

550.64 kg

Genetics

Sky
Pinstripe

Splash
Trail

White
Ghost

Hatchday

May 22, 2019
(4 years)

Breed

Adult
Skydancer

Eye Type

Arcane
Common

Level 1 Skydancer

EXP: 0 / 245

STR

AGI

DEF

QCK

INT

VIT

MND

Lineage

Parents

Offspring

none

Biography

Sky Rheil
Artist
Creative | Dry | Self-deprecating
The rest of Niko's lore is below!

Niko opened his mouth to protest, to give her some kind of excuse, but he held his tongue. She was right, after all. During their initial rush after being attacked by Aella, it hadn’t occurred to him that Arien’s eyes had indeed been golden – or, at least, had a golden sheen. It’d disappeared as quickly as it’d appeared, leaving Niko to believe he’d been seeing things.
“Looks like your rogue guess was right, my love.” He turned away, hefting the outfit—which turned out to be bloodied around the hood and down the front—out of the chest. “He’s an assassin.”
When he turned back to look at Sky in her silence, she looked pained. Her paw drifted along the bloodstain gently, as if it was still wet. “This outfit must be Mikaela’s, after her execution.”
Niko nodded his agreement and placed the outfit on the floor. They stared at it for some time, taking in the numerous leathers and holsters and pouches. The golds had become oranges with blood, the whites permanently stained with mud and dust and the boots still tucked away at the bottom of the chest scuffed with plenty of running, leaping, tripping. He couldn’t help but wonder what it’d be like to wear clothes like this, to run around silently with a target in mind. To kill, even. He shuddered and began folding it up, never wanting to think like that again.
“Huh,” Sky muttered, mostly to herself. She was peering inside the chest again, Arcanist eyes locked onto something.
“What’s up?”
She plucked the little note from the chest and unravelled it, taking in its contents. She turned it to him for him to read.
It was a list of names. Nicholas Forage, Cayt Poliner, Brenike Taylor. Each one had a red line through them, some of the lines going so far as to puncture the page beneath it. They started neatly, the handwriting a gorgeous swirl of letters, and drifted into blocky, chaotic scribbles. Only one name was unmarked. Caeo Wayland.
“He’s after the king,” he thought aloud, taking the paper from Sky and eyeing it with distrust and ambiguity. “He’s going to kill him.”
“I would if I could get anywhere near the bugger.”
The couple shrieked and backed away from the voice; hoarse, tired and low, like a whisper. Arien stood behind them, eyes blazing gold, arms crossed, lips pressed into a thin, irritated line. Spots of blood plastered his shirt. Dirt covering his breeches at the knees and the ankles. A tri-golden Imperial male.
“You’re Aegis,” Niko found himself stammering.
Arien shrugged. “Well, I was.”
“You’re going to kill us now, aren’t you?”
He could only watch as Arien’s eyes narrowed in confusion. “Now, why on earth would I do that?”
“Because we know too much?”
After a few seconds of glaring, Arien burst out laughing. The pair stared on. Whether they were right or wrong was uncertain, and the anxiety of the situation coaxed them to laugh along with him. They didn’t know when a blade was going to fly towards them, singing through the air.
A few minutes later, he calmed himself. His gaze had drifted back to a soft purple by the time he’d settled onto the end of the bed opposite them, a small smile playing at his lips. “You read too many spy books, Niko. That’s not how it works for assassins.”
“So you’re not denying that you’re one?”
“Nope.”
“And you’re not going to kill us?”
“Definitely not.” He grinned, presumably to ease the tension. It worked, but only slightly. “Too much paperwork.”
“How does it work then?” Sky inquired. Her paw was clutching his, her other very noticeably behind her back.
Arien shrugged nonchalantly. “I don’t know how it works for others, but for me, if you know who I am then I obviously trust you enough not to go to the authorities.” He gave them a level stare. His eyes flickered gold for a split second. “Except in this situation. Did I mention that this is now the second rule you’ve broken in a week?”
“No, thanks for informing me.”
“You’re welcome.”
Sky shuffled awkwardly. “What’s with the gold eyes?”
“That’s thanks to my familiar.”
When the couple cocked their heads in confusion, he sighed and spoke again. “My familiar—Poppet—has a few special qualities as a Trick of the Light. One of them is an identification of when I’m feeling something fairly negative, like the disappointment and frustration I had upon entering this room and finding my tenant and my daughter’s best friend snooping through my stuff.”
Niko curled awkwardly under Arien’s stare, ashamed. He knew he shouldn’t have sifted through his things.
“I suppose it would’ve happened eventually,” his proprietor muttered. “I admit that I was being evasive about your questions, and I apologise for that. However...”
“We shouldn’t have snooped.”
“No, you shouldn’t have.”
“Did you do something to our familiars?” Sky snapped, giving Arien a level look. “They should’ve alerted us.”
“Other than be friendly with them? No. They’re fine. If anything, they’re asleep in the hall.” He snorted to himself. “I think you might’ve overworked them this week.”
It was true. Senu on her own looked exhausted when she was summoned, the same going for Ammon. Throughout the week, they’d rushed back and forth between stalls and the back garden, stalls and the bedroom, stalls and more stalls. He sent a mental prod to Senu and a growl travelled through his mind. She was definitely asleep.
Arien raised his eyebrow at Niko’s mate, paw outstretched. “May I have my dagger back, Sky?”
Sky started beside Niko, her paw clutching his in an act of surprise and guilt. Then, slowly, she brought her paw from behind her back and placed the dagger gently on the ground.
It was gorgeous, for a dagger. In the hilt, engravings of golden vines popped out, spiralling up and blossoming into the blade itself. It was splashed a brilliant forest green. A name appeared on its side; Aella. Like the statue.
“Why’s the name Aella everywhere?” he asked before he could bite his tongue.
“It’s Cyra’s story—”
“Oh for Deities’ sake!” Sky cried, agitated. “Stop telling us it’s her story to tell. She’s not going to tell us, if you haven’t gathered that.”
Arien went to say something but was cut off by the door slamming open beside him. Cyra stood in the doorway, tear tracks down her face and one of her paws curled into a fist.
Her father stood up but stayed beside the bed. He was stopped by a single movement; her paw went from her side to the air between them.
“It is my story to tell,” she began, her voice shaky, “and I’ll tell you now on the condition that you apologise to my father.”
Sky did so, hanging her head in guilt. Cyra and Arien sat down on the bed, the former with a depthless emptiness blazing in her eyes and the latter exhausted.
Sighing, Niko’s sister began to speak through clenched teeth. “Aella was my little sister. She wasn’t adopted like me, but I loved her all the same, and this king had her killed because some guards had seen us being dropped off at my mum’s friend’s house.” She huffed a breath before continuing. The sheet she was sat on was bundled up in her fists. “Lillian was her name. She’d been the only friend my parents could trust, and she burned alive in order for me to escape, Aella going with her.”
Niko said nothing. Nor did Sky. They both sat there, dumbfounded.
When they still didn’t speak, Crya whispered, “I was meant to take her with me, but a guard pulled me out of the fire before I could grab her. She died because I couldn’t fight him off.”
Arien took over then, throwing his arm around his daughter and stroking her head feathers. “That’s when Mikaela lost her mind, essentially, and got herself into trouble.”
“I’m so sorry,” Niko mumbled. “I can’t even imagine what that feels like.”
“It feels like someone’s torn your special thing away from you,” Cyra grumbled. “Like if Sky was taken from you, through death, imprisonment or otherwise. It never heals, either. You just learn to live with it.”
Silence fell upon them, and an uncomfortable one at that. No one knew what to say, it seemed. They’d found out what they wanted to know, but they also found out the reason why; this King had murdered half of Arien’s family, and no doubt has been harassing the public for years to find him. To find both of them.
“Are you both planning on killing the king?” Niko asked, his voice less shaky than he expected.
Arien didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”
Niko braved a glance at Cyra, who was staring blankly at the wall. “And you’ve been training her?”
“Yes.”
What he said next brought a rush of bravery and stupidity. “Can I join in?”
That was when Arien hesitated in comforting in his daughter. He looked at him as if he’d just spoken in tongues. “You want to join a treasonous act willingly for no apparent reason?”
“Well, if the King’s going around and killing people for the sake of it, then…”
“You’d be willing to surrender your freedom?”
Niko cocked his head in thought. Arien was right. If he did this, he wouldn’t exactly be free to do as he pleased, he’d have to be careful. That didn’t sit well with him. “Maybe not.”
“Didn’t think so.”
“Is there anything I can do to help you, though?”
He began counting them on his digits. “Keep this quiet, don’t go to the guards, deliver notes and letters if you can with your familiars, that kind of thing.” He turned to Sky, his face hopeful. “There’s actually something specific I’d like you to do, Sky, if you’re up for it.”
“What is it?”
“There was something my wife was working on,” he began, heading over to the desk they sat near after he made sure that Cyra was alright and rummaging through a drawer. “It was a disguise, one that she’d use to get to the King with. She never quite perfected it, and eventually gave up after Aella’s death.”
“You want me to work on it?”
“Or someone you trust with your life.”
He picked up a notebook from the drawer, gazing at it with longing, before he opened it and handed it down to her on a specific page. It was creased to all hell, but on the page was a detailed drawing of a maiden’s outfit; a hood that covered the eyes, tied along the shoulders with a cape that draped down the back like a waterfall. A sash, coloured in deep blue, was hung around the maiden’s waist, a sword holster beneath, with bleached white breeches and a purple shirt.
A thump sounded before them and they jumped, staring at the outfit in its physical form. It looked almost exactly like the picture, but there was one mistake; the clothes were the wrong shape. In the sketch, they hugged the body in a certain way, and yet the real ones looked too loose, even on the ground.
“These clothes are for females,” Sky muttered, glancing between notebook and outfit. “You’re a male.”
A cough sounded above them and they turned to see…
“Arien?” Niko couldn’t keep the shock out of his voice, staring at the female before him. She looked exactly like him—golden wings, golden runes, and even the same hairstyle and missing horn—but it couldn’t be. Could it?
She grinned mercilessly. “Who else would I be?”
“But… But you’re—”
“You wanted to know who Aegis was a while ago, yes?”
“Yeah, but—”
Another grin, and she gestured to herself. “This is her. She’s my counterpart, shall we say. I use her whenever I feel I need to, like when a guard comes poking around my home.”
A comfortable quiet fell over the room then. Aegis went back over to her daughter, cuddling her on the bed and whispering to her whilst Sky and Niko stayed where they were on the floor. Senu and Ammon joined them eventually. They collapsed to the floor immediately and slept once more.
Sky yawned and let her head drop onto Niko’s shoulder.
“You okay?” he cooed softly, tucking a stray strand of pastel behind his lover’s ear.
“Yeah,” she mumbled into his shoulder, “I’m alright. Just tired.”
“Why don’t you two go to bed?” Aegis suggested from the bed. Cyra was hidden beneath her wing, only the tops of her head feathers poking up into view. “It’s pretty late, and we’ll have a lot to discuss tomorrow.”
He nodded and stood up slowly, helping Sky along the way. Both of the familiars were infused by the time they made to leave. His mate left first, eager to get to bed. Niko was, too.
Something stopped him in the doorway, however, and he turned to look at what remains of the Ayala family. An assassin, long sought after in the city, who wants revenge for the killing of her family and the unfair nature of those in power, and a writer with ambitions higher than the moon herself. They were an unlikely pair in order to take down the King, but he could see it working out in their favour with enough determination and enough help.
He’d have to make sure he did all he could.
Aegis noticed him staring and smiled at him. “Is there something else you need, Niko?”
He nodded. “I just wanted to say that I’m more than willing to help you get to the king.”
“Thank you.”
Grinning, he looked towards Cyra. She smirked up at him in return.
“You gonna be okay?” he asked her.
“I’ll be fine,” she said, words slurred by exhaustion. “Go get some sleep. I’ll speak to you tomorrow.”
It was only then, after a reassuring nod from Aegis, that he closed the door and wandered back to his room. Sky was already in there, collapsed on the bed they shared, covers discarded for the likes of one of Niko’s shawls. She cracked an eyelid open when she heard the door click closed.
“Hey, sleepyhead,” he drawled. “You could’ve waited for me.”
She stuck her tongue out at him. “I’m too tired to do that.”
After a few seconds of standing dumbly, he clambered onto the bed beside the sleeping Sky, whose soft snores filled the silence of the room. She hadn’t even changed, only her pendant had been removed and put on the side neatly, and her hair was a mess, a tangle of different shades. He gently freed it from its bobble. It flowed down her back in a soft river. Most of it fell off the side of the bed and pooled on the floor like spilled paint, the rest forming a halo around her resting head.
The moonlight lit her face up in an angelic glow. Whites turned to silvers and the flecks of blue along her neck rose and fell with each breath, shimmering with the silvers hidden in her feathers during the daytime.
No wonder he felt like the luckiest male alive by her side.
Smiling to himself, he leant down and kissed her cheek. “Goodnight, my angel.”

Total number of words: 13,362
Total number of characters (w/ spaces): 73,239
Total number of pages: 23
Officially the longest lore I've ever done!

Personal message:
Happy 17th, Niko! You're as old as me now. Congratulations.
You begged me for ages for this, so here you go. You deserve being called a beggar for this. I'm not changing that no matter how many times you DM me about it, so live with it.
In all honesty, I actually enjoyed writing this by the end. I struggled a bit because I didn't have someone to read it for me before posting so there's probably something wrong, but eh. I tried, right? I hope the snippets I gave you didn't ruin too much of this.
As well as being such a surprising present (!!!), I did it as a bit of a thanks, I guess. I'm not the easiest person to be friends with, but you actually take the time to talk to me which is really nice??? Not only that but you're essentially my brother, so that counts too. It's not often that I call someone family, so be grateful!
If I could, I think I'd try to list every good quality about you but I'm surprisingly bad at that, so I'm just going to say that you should never doubt yourself, which I know you do quite a bit because don't all anxious teenagers(?), even if you don't tell me. You're really easy to talk to, no matter who the person is, and you're hilarious. Your music is some of the best I've ever heard (I still listen to some of them when I'm feeling a bit meh, and they help a ton with my writing!), and if you're this good at 17, only God knows where you're going to end up at 30. Probably Avicii or David Guetta level music, if I'm being honest. Better than Marshmello ever was. (Avicii - Heaven is the best song ever, change my mind.)
Keep it up, bud, for the sake of everyone that listens to music and for everyone you're going to meet in the future.
~Cade

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