- Messages
- 11
- Character Biography
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Rosebury loved the Silent Court in actual autumn. The world was cooling, and growing cold and wet above. The subterranean Silent Court was always bursting with light. Castigare, always a lovely and lively city, was even more boisterous than usual.
Rosebury sometimes felt as though Castigare was more of a home than the House of Coins. The streets here were paved in a kaleidoscope of mosaic work that had taken the dead thousands of years to perfect. Every surface was covered in starbursts, curling vine patterns, abstract works, and solid geometric blocks breaking up the swirling confusion. Thousands of paper lamps were strung across the streets, turning the dim city into daylight and beauty. Even the Cathedral of the Triangle, an imposing building of dull granite, had been splashed with colorful powders.
Flowers blooming in late autumn had been bought from the mortals above, or taken from graveyards, and scattered along the annals of the streets. Carts full of strong liquor handed out cups of vodka, whiskey, gin and infused white lightning from Floiland. The dead could not eat food, as it would rot in their decaying stomachs, but they could enjoy liquor to the fullest.
Rosebury bought a tiny nip of liquor from a small, child-sized cart staffed by myconids. The tiny mushroom sprites were renowned among the dead for their cultivation of mycowine, a sharp pink liquor with a lovely taste and hallucinogenic properties. Rosebury nursed the thimble-sized cup wisely.
All around him was the sound of celebration. The Unearthed undead carving statues for the crowds and reciting song and poetry for the departed. Rotten performing a loud and vicious haka for the King. Ivory skeletons running gambling rings.
For today was the Day of the Dead.
Rosebury smirked. Ironically the only time of year where the living were invited to see their dead relatives. Fae from all over the courts would be here to greet their loved ones. Today was a day of remembrance and bonding. Dead husbands could embrace living wives. Mother’s reunited with dead children. Children reunited with dead parents and grandparents. The Court of Death, Balance and Rebirth disliked letting the living into their midst, but the link between the living and the dead was too precious to ignore entirely.
Come to think of it, he must have been early. He looked around, trying to pick another living fae out of the crowd. Rosebury wasn’t seeking dead relatives, but rather other thrill seekers like himself come to visit the colorful court.
Rosebury sometimes felt as though Castigare was more of a home than the House of Coins. The streets here were paved in a kaleidoscope of mosaic work that had taken the dead thousands of years to perfect. Every surface was covered in starbursts, curling vine patterns, abstract works, and solid geometric blocks breaking up the swirling confusion. Thousands of paper lamps were strung across the streets, turning the dim city into daylight and beauty. Even the Cathedral of the Triangle, an imposing building of dull granite, had been splashed with colorful powders.
Flowers blooming in late autumn had been bought from the mortals above, or taken from graveyards, and scattered along the annals of the streets. Carts full of strong liquor handed out cups of vodka, whiskey, gin and infused white lightning from Floiland. The dead could not eat food, as it would rot in their decaying stomachs, but they could enjoy liquor to the fullest.
Rosebury bought a tiny nip of liquor from a small, child-sized cart staffed by myconids. The tiny mushroom sprites were renowned among the dead for their cultivation of mycowine, a sharp pink liquor with a lovely taste and hallucinogenic properties. Rosebury nursed the thimble-sized cup wisely.
All around him was the sound of celebration. The Unearthed undead carving statues for the crowds and reciting song and poetry for the departed. Rotten performing a loud and vicious haka for the King. Ivory skeletons running gambling rings.
For today was the Day of the Dead.
Rosebury smirked. Ironically the only time of year where the living were invited to see their dead relatives. Fae from all over the courts would be here to greet their loved ones. Today was a day of remembrance and bonding. Dead husbands could embrace living wives. Mother’s reunited with dead children. Children reunited with dead parents and grandparents. The Court of Death, Balance and Rebirth disliked letting the living into their midst, but the link between the living and the dead was too precious to ignore entirely.
Come to think of it, he must have been early. He looked around, trying to pick another living fae out of the crowd. Rosebury wasn’t seeking dead relatives, but rather other thrill seekers like himself come to visit the colorful court.
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