these lands were new to her. everything, every smell, and every noise was cause for some alarm. her eyes, however, calmly assessed their surroundings. she waited for a while on the edge of the plains, hesitation in her steps before breaking out into the spring evening. the air was crisp and the crickets chirped idly to announce the coming night's time. but her steps did not falter as she walked despite her inner misgivings. this was just another realm to explore. she could hope for many things, and many experiences, but in the end, it was up to fate. Philomena did not enjoy that idea - she chose her own fortune and her own goals. the thought of anything interfering - some divine intervention or ideals - beyond her control was unnerving. but she still did not give this place the pleasure of seeing her upsets. she would rather die than show weakness of any sort.

the tall grasses tickled her legs and the lack of voices - of anyone - was a blissful moment she was loathed to give up. her time on this earth was brief compared to most but she knew what she liked so far. one of them was a bit of silence to think, especially considering she had just arrived and did not want to be overwhelmed. as much as she was physically kept together, the young woman's insides burned with regret. though what sort of regret was unknown, for she could easily slip into a more sociopathic viewpoint. perhaps the regret was for her new start? the thought of adjusting once more to the dance of life when she should have settled by now... mayhap she should not speak of such things, let alone think them. if she did, she would begin to think her decisions were not done for the good of her being. she would feel utterly hopeless.

coming to the middle of the plains, her head swirled around in half hopes to run into someone. though she enjoyed her thoughts the most, Philomena was quite eager to learn more of the realm she found herself in. a plan would have been to research but she was one for action. even if it was impulsive to run from each land to the next without a goal. steps were heard, though, and the young woman remained still. waiting to see if they would pass by or pause, her eyes kept on the horizon. she did not look behind her and did not see who approached.

WHEREVER WE GO, WE'LL NEVER BE LOST--
 

Wind whistles through the hazelnut-brown feathers of Septimus’s wings as he circled down to a slow, lazy halt in the tall golden sea of the Eleutheria. After spending several weeks wandering Novus, largely aimlessly, with little but his own intuition and the often-ambiguous directions of passers-by to guide him on his way, he’d finally managed to regain some semblance of his bearings. He’s comfortable enough to wander the unclaimed regions of Novus on his own, at least, which is something – not that Septimus is an especially fearful creature, hamstringed as he is by his lack of magic. However, he’s also not a fool, and, now that he is susceptible to his own mortality, he knows better than to take unnecessary risks.

Night hangs heavy on the edge of the horizon, a fierce blush of deep navy cast against the paler shades of day. In the grass, crickets have already begun to chirp, and the sound brings the soft semblance of a smile to Septimus’s lips; in his line of work, he has come to carry a particular admiration for the littlest creatures in nature, particularly those who, in spite of their size, were striking. (In the case of crickets, it was because of their sound – so distinct and loud, and they were so tiny. Even a single cricket might as well have been an orchestra.) But he is has not come to the plains tonight to listen to crickets. No, with the sky promising to be so tantalizingly cloudless and the moon nearing its fullest point, he has determined that tonight will be promising enough to work on the star map that he has been sketching sporadically since his arrival. (Of course, his sporadic work is in and of itself problematic; the night sky changes, and he has barely had the time to accommodate for it.)

Still, with help enough from the books in the library to determine the major constellations in Novus’s spring, he likes to think that he can strive for something reminiscent of accuracy. If he hopes to keep exploring the wilder corners of this foreign land, having a map of his own would be invaluable.

He crests a hill, his hooves crunching in the still-dry grass (touched by the last hints of winter frosts in the mornings), and then he pauses. A young mare – still a girl, really – stands with her back turned to him. A pretty, simple creature painted in dusky, monochromatic hues of black and white, with a small pair of wings sprouting from her skull and a slender, dainty build. He dips his head to her, though he knows that she cannot see the gesture, and offers a polite, “Hello there.” It is a traveler’s greeting – he doesn’t know if she would want him to stay and speak with her, and he doesn’t know if he wants to talk with her yet either, so his tone is intentionally evasive. If she reacts poorly, he’ll go on his way. If she continues the conversation…

There is always more to be learned, he thinks. 

---

@Philomena || <3

"Speech!" 

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