[P] wonderland.

[Asterion]

Asterion in sunshine and in shadow* Once more he was a pilgrim, once more he was alone. The boy had known there was no certainty, jumping into that yawning maw of feral magic, but some part of his hopeful dreamer’s heart had still thought that there might be a reunion on the other side. That all those he’d met in Ravos, the friendships that had taken root in his heart and tugged at keeping him planted, might be waiting for him. Instead there was nothing but this: a quiet meadow, grasses whispering under a twilight sky. It was lovely, and lonely, and far better than death. - There was little to do, then, but begin walking. With the setting sun to his right he wanders south, dark eyes restless on the horizon even as the night turns silver and cobalt around him. It is summer here, wherever here is, and there is a little breeze that tousles his silver-shot mane and carries with it the scent of wildflowers and cedarsmoke. As the stars begin to emerge, cold silver to the cheery gold of the fireflies, he finds he recognizes none of the constellations. But this discovery is forgotten, for the moment, in favor of another. First it is her laughter that draws his attention, the sound like silver bells on some distant wind. The boy is helpless but to find the source of that noise; even if he weren’t so very new, so alone, he would seek it out. Carefree and wild, it lures him like a half-remembered dream and when the twilit bay finds her he can only stand and watch in wonder. There are fireflies around her like faerie lights and her hair is silver as starlight. He is captured at once by the sight of her there, dancing alone in the summer night, like a creature in a story that will vanish with the dawn. Oh, but he wants her to stay - With boyish boldness he steps forward, hungry to be near her, forgetting he is a stranger in a world he doesn’t know the name of. She steps into the lake and silver ripples around her; he’s half-convinced she’s made of moonlight. Perhaps he is dreaming; perhaps he is dead. Certainly it feels like something conjured, this wild summer night with the lake like glass and the silver-haired girl. Asterion finds he is standing at the shore; he finds he is smiling; he finds he has nothing to say, no clever thought in his foolish dreamer’s head, and so he only watches and wonders and waits. @Aislinn <3