These boundaries between one major territory and another seem to defy conventional logic, the roads leading not from point A to point B as read on a map, but from one time and place to another altogether, the way alive with a palpable flow and direction, as if the benign looking forest were really a vessel being drawn along some flooded waterway, effortless to follow, but impossible to turn against, conscious, insistent. She wonders at this as she walks, quietly complacent to the not-so-forest’s wishes.
“I’m looking for somewhere new.” She admits. “Somewhere I haven’t been, but close enough to where I have, if that makes sense.” If a forest would care to listen to the endeavors of an eccentric soul, she thinks to herself. “I’m – Oh!” All at once the trees come to a stop, their sheltering canopies opening onto a plain of alabaster white. “How pretty!” She exclaims, stepping lightly into the powdery snow. Ears pricked, she lifts her hooves to examine the impressions beneath, exhales clouds of staccato breath just to watch the condensation swirl and vanish. “The trees were so thick, I hardly knew it was winter.”
With a sweep of her lion-esque tail the rose dappled mare sends a spray of glistening crystals into the air, smiling at the soft shhh they make in rustling together and the way that they glimmer as they fall. It’s a childish movement, but she’s never understood why childish things are so shamed. What’s wrong with being happy, she’d question, but the disapproving only shake their heads as if there were a ‘right’ and a ‘wrong’ way to enjoy life. With a smirk she confides aloud, “But I’ve found that the wrong way tends to be more enjoyable anyway.”
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It wasn’t often that he found himself wandering from Delumine during the season, especially without the company of Ulric or Caelum. The winter chill was merciless, cruel and biting frost, and the tactician much preferred to stay within the warm confines of the Citadel, holed up in the library or his own private quarters. He had never really been one for cold, after all, even if there was a certain type of beauty to a frosted, snow-covered world. Oh, he certainly had no qualms in appreciating the beauty from the warmth of indoors, but hardly desired to be out in it…
So that rose the question; why was he? Somnus could certainly go on in his answer, deep and profound, analytical creature that he was, but instead, he figured that he would settle on something far more simple; he was bored.
He was listless, growing tired with his usual routine, stuck inside as the world around them froze to the core. With such a quick, keen mind, the dunalino gentleman was not the type of man to be content simply standing around, detesting such lazy, unprofessional behavior. So, sucking up his loathing for the cold weather, he had bid Caelum a tender farewell with the promise to return soon before taking to the skies, letting the winds be his guide. The fact that his venture had taken him to the Eleutheria Plains was no surprise; subconsciously, perhaps, he sought out this territory quite often, back before the weather pelted the land with snow and ice. It had been peaceful before, a little nook away from the stresses of court life, relaxing almost, but now… It was quiet. Very quiet.
Somnus landed upon the plains of glistening white with the elegance required of one of his station, great amber spotted wings outstretched to slow his descent. He landed amidst a plume of scattered snow crystals, hooves leaving deep indents from his landing, but he straightened with a flick of an ear and let out a deep breath. Mist curled upwards, lost to the sky, and keen verdant eyes surveyed his surroundings, taking in the sight of all of the snow that lay amidst the stretching fields. Wings furled and tucked close to golden sides, shielding away the chill, before the tactician began his advance, content to lose himself to his thoughts.
It wasn’t long until he happened upon another. A dappled grey maiden danced through the snow drifts, innocent and carefree, unbothered by the chill. Her words echoed amidst the frozen stillness, and Somnus listened, a quirk of a smile upturning the stallion’s dark lips. He held himself open yet reserved, not wishing to startle the poor lady. It was nice to see such innocent joy amidst the uncertain tensions, and he found himself soothed by her candor. The dappled woman’s last statement, however, caught his ear and urged him to speak. How very true.
Clearing his throat, Somnus spoke, the elegant lilt of his accent adding warmth to his brief words. “Some may say that their most heartfelt joys come from the most unexpected of moments,” he began, thinking fondly of Caelum and the familiarity that the two of them had developed since their initial meeting, the warmth that the other stallion spread in his heart. “Apologies for the intrusion. My name is Somnus.”
@Adelheid
"There is nothing noble in being superior to your fellow man; true nobility is being superior to your former self."
A courteous ahem from behind turns the mares head. She stiffens for a moment, surprised by the sudden appearance of gold and feathers upon the snow, but the stallion’s expression is quiet, almost soft to her eyes, and when he speaks it’s with a reserved but identifiable warmth. Relaxing, she nods and smiles affably, the slightly fraying braid of her forelock bouncing against the forward plane of her face. ”It’s undeserved kindness that deeply affects. Altruism being against preservation and all that.” One black rimmed ear turns back uncertainly. ”It’s no intrusion, though I hope you’re not here to tell me I’m trespassing. I’m not from around here, and mean no offense.”
Strangers tend to be more forgiving of a young woman invading their borders than of other individuals, but the chances of being met with open arms are still significantly lower than any other possibility. This caution hums in the back of her mind, dividing her interest between wanting to speak farther and wanting to avoid unnecessary hardship. ”Somnus, I’m Adelheid, just a wandering philosopher.” Alone, she checks off on her mental list. Nonthreatening, she marks again, following the patented sissy-girl’s rubric for achieving nonviolent encounters.
”I saw the unblemished snow and couldn’t help myself.” Another smile, a slight tilt to her brows that suggests youthful indiscretion, innocence, and then a question on the heels of these platitudes. Harmless, right? ”Do you live here?” She wants to ask so much more, her tongue pressing tight to the inner edge of her teeth, but again a murmur of careful consideration holds her back, bids her to just follow the script.
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The fleeting moment of concern that he was interrupting a moment of privacy was just that, fleeting. She smiles, an adorable, innocent expression that reached her eyes, and Somnus found himself at ease in her company. It was her following words, however, her inquisitive rebuttal to his own outlook that caused tawny golden ears to swivel forward at attention, brows raising in intrigue. A philosopher, then? The look of surprise was quick to fade into a more welcome, neutral expression, lips turning upwards in an honest, yet soft, grin. Verdant eyes glittered knowingly in the sunlight, and he chuckled.
“I intend to do no such thing, I assure you,” he soothed, not wishing to cause her any distress, “You’re quite alright. I fear it is impossible to trespass upon a land that is owned by no one.” The Eluetheria Plains, after all, had no Sovereign, save for maybe the Gods themselves. No King nor Queen called the land home, the Courts leaving these sparse lands to their own devices. A neutral land, you could call it, welcome to anyone and everyone. Somnus himself had spent plenty a time upon these very fields, even if there had been far less snow at the time.
She introduced herself, her name finding a place in the tactician’s brilliant mind, where it would stay amidst an impeccable memory. Adelheid. He nodded once in understanding. “A pleasure, Adelheid.” And it was. The world did not have enough inquisitive minds. It was nice to meet another like-minded individual, especially in one so young and eager. Catching her scent amidst the smell of frost and winter air, Somnus found that he could not place just where she had come from. From her brief words in regards to the Plains, it appeared that she may not be of Novus at all, but he had never been one to assume.
Adelheid’s innocent statement and inquiry drew his attention to the trampled snow, and he chuckled. “I do not live here, if that is what you are asking. I live in Delumine, to the southwest. The Dawn Court, to be more precise.” Deciding to ask a question of his own, the Regent of Delumine allowed his gaze to drift back to the dappled maiden before him. “And you? Are you of Novus, or new to this land?” Hopefully she wouldn’t think his question too bold, or presumptuous.
@Adelheid
"There is nothing noble in being superior to your fellow man; true nobility is being superior to your former self."
He seems surprised at first, his focus narrowing and intensifying on her for just a moment, sending an electric jolt of pride running through the mares core. She preens in the attention, well aware that her own description is at odds with the archetypal picture of the eccentric, elderly Scholar locked in his rat-packed tower full of decades worth of worldly knowledge. She is quite young for such a role, but she’s learned that age doesn’t necessarily translate to experience, though when confronted she’ll admit (with some venom) that they correlate, time being an essential element. She’ll be quick to assert that it’s the time you put into it that matters though, not just how long you’ve existed, a concept that many an elder peer has been painfully and infuriatingly oblivious to.
Pleasantries exchange as expected from there, the stallion appearing both genuine and accommodating in his responses. She likes the way that he laughs quietly between ideas, the sound reassuring and encouraging to her approval-starved ears, and at last she relaxes, cocking her hips to rest one hind hoof on its toe, a well-known sign of trust in the equine language. Perhaps this too is a sign of her youth, being too quick to trust, too susceptible to first impressions, but she decides then and there that she likes the golden pegasus, pushing away the voice of caution in her mind.
“Delumine, in Dawn Court, in Novus.” She repeats carefully, trying to simultaneously commit them to memory and recall if she’s ever heard those names before, drawing a blank on all counts. “I am somewhere new then. My home was called Trofelden - or part of it anyway.” She corrects, eyes dropping, turning back to the forest for a moment. ”It’s been segmented now.” She tenses at the oversimplification, awkwardly shifting in the silence after, her own discomfort making a benign pause in the conversation feel like a vacuum demanding explanation.
Her body language is too telling, too vulnerable. She knows it, but the avoidance and embarrassment in her expression is more likely to be assumed from something nefarious than what it actually is, some trauma, some painful memory, not the childish fear of disapproval, of revealing something close kept and important only to be dismissed or ridiculed. Shallow, she thinks, to let the man believe she’s some damaged damsel when she isn’t, but she also thinks that he’ll leave the subject alone if she does, let her share with him what she wants to when she wants to, so she says nothing more, despite the heat of shame creeping into her dappled cheeks.
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