Upon King Epsilon's death, Istus will inherit the throne of Corin and the southern lands. But with the glory of leadership will come a duty to his people. Epsilon's authority is the one thing that holds the rebel king, Caresuad, at bay. When Istus does come to the throne, he must act the part or watch his kingdom fall to tyranny. He is prepared to do all he can, but, though he doesn't admit to it, he constantly questions himself.
He wouldn't brag about his strengths; that would make no king.
He wouldn't humble himself by expressing his weaknesses; that would make no king.
He holds himself to the standards that his father would expect, but inside he feels a mere child in the maw of a larger world.
In honesty, he sees duty where he looks. His family. His kingdom. His people.
He would fight for it and die for it. And he will not take his father's throne without first earning it.
Cínnuinta is fate. The fate of the world of Ala'tona. With her existance, tyranny is razed or raised. But she does not exist alone. And, as it is, nor does Istus.
She is the Grey Falcon with which the fate of Istus' time is planted. She will not decide it alone, but, without her, there is nothing to decide.
At first, Aletha is the audacious daughter of a blacksmith. She is beautiful, and not just by the standards of those peasants in her village. Her skill with the sword and bow is just as outlandish as her looks. But time, as it forces many changes, will not leave her audacious personality untouched. Change brings reserve, silence and solitude.
Istus' view of her is never fixed, but he will continue to pursue her. And she needs him more than either of them knows. There will always be questions. Yet never answers.
Secrets define her. But Istus will never stop prying, hoping for a moment when she is willing to offer explanations
Is Taria petualant? Sometimes. Is she a bit rogue? It certainly seems so.
As a princess, she can have anything she likes, but she can't be anything she likes. Princesses are held to certain standards. One can like them or not, but they still must abide by them.
A princess should not be petulant and most certainly not rogue. So Taria is that way on her free time.
She may be slight, but she's headstrong and won't easily be put aside.
At fourteen, she's a blonde spitfire. Goodness knows what age will bring.
Thoryus is the kind of person who would rather not admit when he has made a friend. He would rather not admit that he would do the right thing. Quite honestly, what he would rather do, is flaunt his tough, gruff and otherwise brawny except altogether fallacious personality.
His erroneous temperment would fit with his scars, his bulk, his dress, but every inaccurate trait is cast off when it comes down to it. When it comes down to it, he would help a friend however he could and still feign indifference. When it comes down to it, he would do the right thing and pretend it was for his own gain. When it comes down to it, he is neither tough nor gruff nor brawny.
Though he may not look it or seem it, he makes a friend as quickly as he can flash a blade.
She could be mad.
But there is always that chance that she isn't. If Thoryus can embrace that chance, others can as well. Alone in the hills, her upbringing has established an awkward personality and a dramatic tongue, but her heart is good and she loves her father more than words can tell, though she may find an adept quip to define it.
She has never been told that her storm grey eyes are dazzling or that her bouncy, honey hair is lovely. Her father would have told her, but he never pays attention to such things, so nor does she. If she can look upon the skys, read the stars, and percieve secrets without catching a whisper, she need not clutter herself.
The melodist...the confidant...the star reader.
Caresuad is the king of the Asathet, the rebels fighting against King Epsilon and the Southern Kingdom. All is going well in his life, very well. Epsilon's kingdom is slowly failing, and when the man's young son inherits the throne, the land will be more easily crushed.
Caresuad looks to unite Ala'tona. United under the banner of the Asathet, all would be in the palm of his hand, and if he wished to but close his fist, he could destroy whatever peeved him. Some call it tyranny, he calls it aptitude.
Oh, yes. All is going very well.