[P] tangled up in blue;

[Asterion]

Asterion in sunshine and in shadow* His head is too full with too many things. The loss of magic, the gain of family, this new world - Novus. He has no idea how much more there is. He has never seen a court, a keep, with walls of stone and beds and libraries. Asterion has ever only been a horse, bedding down in grass and thickets, drinking of streams, dreaming in the open air. Half-dazed he follows her, his sister, a softer gold than his twin. What else does she know, beneath her crown of flowers? What other missing pieces of his heart might she fill? The storm has moved on; the crickets have come out to sing. It’s a gentle serenade, with the quiet sigh of the wind, as true dusk follows them into the strange halls of Terrastella.