He stayed huddled in the shadows for the most part as happy folks set up the boardwalks and left out paper, ribbon, and writing ink for festival goers to leave their notes with, watching as they beautifully crafted glass baubles were safely stored away for those who wished to use them. The festive atmosphere was infectious, even for him.
At one point, he poked his head from the shadows, quietly stepping forwards and softly pointing out that they may not wish to set the boardwalk's stilts in that one particular area, as the ground had a tendency to be weaker than it first appeared. Perhaps it would do better directed over there, by the tree?
He didn't have much that he could do, and his shy and nervous nature kept him mostly ensconced in the darkness and hiding spots he knew well in the swamps, but he still followed those who set up the activities for the joyous times ahead, the cold, dank swamp becoming warm as they set flames into the waters, warming the world around them. He couldn't help but to feel soothed in a way, a torch having drifted close to where he lay shrouded in low-lying bushes, his form obscured but warm.
They couldn't see him, but he could see and hear them, could hear their happy chatter and voices, even if they were too far away to be heard clearly. The happy atmosphere left no room for even the voices of his darkest monsters to murmur of violence and death, the world just felt too warm, even in this dark season.
He watched them leave, opening the boardwalks for festival goers to come, leaving the man alone in the darkness.
He had watched them leave their own notes for unknown individuals, and Auru laid his head down as he considered whether or not he ought to leave one as well. But who would he even leave it for?
The more he thought about it, the more he realized he actually had several in mind.
Alone, the man rose to his hooves, sloshing forwards through the swamp water to haul himself onto the peat that created the base for the boardwalk, stepping onto the flower-coated planks with a wince at the messy hoofprint he left behind. Ah, well, surely he wouldn't be the only one to get a little swamp murk on the boardwalks?
But none quite so badly as you, filthy thing that you are. There's a difference between a little dirt and a heaving slop of muck like you. Why did you even get on here? Who would care to receive a note from you? They all must hate you, you know, for being so broken, they must laugh at you the moment your back is turned. Poor little swamp man, hiding all alone, so scared he can't even say 'hello' without pissing himself-
He flicked an ear as he ignored the intrusive thoughts, heart lightened by the festive atmosphere of the torches and flowers, the clunking of his hooves on the boardwalks seeming cheerful, even to him, in the way they bespoke of something special.
After a moment of nervous glancing between the bits of parchment left behind, he finally sucked it up and just chose a regular, run-of-the-mill one, levitating it before him and making sure that the quill he lifted was properly inked before slowly scripting out a short message, his literacy not the greatest.
"Thank you for being kind and patient with me, even when you didn't really understand what was happening. - Auru Geniven"
He chewed on his lip, debating whether or not he ought to had more to properly display his appreciation for the mare's kind actions and words, even if they had been a bit overwhelming at times. She had done them with a good heart. He forced himself to set the quill back down with the supplies left behind before he could overthink his words, and convince himself not to leave the note.
This was a festival, a celebration, he'd be damned if he didn't do something to celebrate the ending of winter, and the return of spring's warmth just around the bend.
He'd wanted to fit in, hadn't he?
This was what being part of Dusk meant.
When he was satisfied that the note was dry, he folded it in on itself, hiding the words as he lifted the quill once again, jabbing a little hole through the corner of the fold so that he could string a bit of ribbon through it like it was a little book. It hung a little messily, some of the ink from the quill smearing onto the ribbon from where it had been on the parchment after he made the hole, but it looked nice enough, he supposed.
Keeping the note held aloft, he picked up the quill one more time, writing an address on one of the 'covers' of the little book.
"For Flower-girl"
He set the quill back down, and hung the note from a branch before he let his mind talk him out of it, tying a neat little knot with the ends of the ribbon as he left the little note for the now-sovereign to hopefully find at some point.
@
OOC: <3
