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I P O M O E A In the brief span of silence when neither of them spoke, Ipomoea took a moment to study the newly named king. ’How appropriate,’ his mind whispered. Somnus was dressed from head to hoof in the richest color of gold, as if his entire body should bear testament to the crown he would now hold. He remembered Kasil’s diadem, gold and bejeweled, striking against his dark forehead. Would Somnus inherit the same piece of gold? Would he command the smiths to forge him a new one? Maybe he would choose to not even wear one. Ipomoea wouldn’t blame him, Kasil had often complained of its weight. ’Not that it looked all that heavy to me…’ But Somnus was smiling again now—in that easy, friendly way he knew, as if the least of his worries were now behind him—and it lifted the worry from Ipomoea’s mind, too. Somnus trusted him; not only that, he was happy to stand beside him in the Regime. That was enough for the both of them. Po only continued to smile, even knowing it would go unseen as the dunalino tilted his gaze to the sky. A companionable silence stretched in between them, one he was in no rush to break. It was comfortable; it took his mind from the bigger picture, from the hurt of Kasil’s resignation. He didn’t want to think yet if he had gone already or not, if he would leave even a note behind for his Emissary; so he chose not to. “… Our first plan of action, good Po? Shall we summon the Court?” He straightened his shoulders, meeting Somnus’ gaze head on. Such a seemingly simple task was still enough to send a shiver coursing down his spine, a splendid mix of excitement and trepidation. This was part of his role in the Court; but it warmed him from the inside out to know he wouldn’t be at it alone. He and Somnus were a team, moreso now than ever before. “We should indeed,” he agreed, stepping in closer to the golden king. “If it’s any comfort, Somnus, I couldn’t think of a better replacement for Delumine’s crown than you. And I know the Court will agree; how could they not?” He nuzzled at Somnus’ shoulder with a smile. Even in a rank borne of professionalism, and even with all his gentlemanly and respectable studies beneath his belt, he was still just Po: oblivious to the concept of personal space around those he trusted—those he loved. Somnus would never be an exception, of that he was sure. “Might you lead the way for us?” |
neverrmind art
