Santiago, reads the marker, but although the Dusk King stands at the foot of the disturbed grave it is not the weathered sandstone he watches. Overhead, Cirrus wheels silently, well above any passing pegasi, keeping an aerial view on Susurro and the nearby sea. It is late afternoon, somewhere between spring and summer, and the grasses and wildflowers, sedges and shrubs, are high enough to tickle the stallion’s belly and shoulders as he begins once more to walk. They are high enough to keep secrets, too. 

Asterion has not come to look for Prudence - only to keep an eye on his Court. There are too many strangers and he does not need a horse’s natural inclination for suspicion to be wary of them; he thinks it is a bad time to let unknown glory-seekers into their home, but then, it always is. 

And so he watches, and his companion watches, and rather than worry the bay makes his thoughts like the waves: an endless rhythm like breathing, remote and calm but ready to shape to any change, any threat. 


open to any for the Prudence search!
@redandblack

if you'll be my star*
 

 
 It’s a fleck of silver-grey that catches his eye first, like a wisp of cloud that’s separated from the rest. Cirrus notes her too, though she doesn’t pause in her wide and untroubled circles; one stranger was not a threat today, not with so many Halcyon on patrol. Incoming, the gull murmurs down the bond between the two companions, and the king of Dusk Court huffs a soft breath and settles in to wait.

She does not keep him waiting long. His gaze is soft and dark on the stranger as she lands, her hair billowing like stormclouds, her points dark and her monochrome patterns striking against the bright color of the sunlit day. As soon as her gaze catches his the bay stallion nods, an easy dip of his muzzle, and when he notes her posture he comes a few steps nearer. Enough to speak comfortably, but not enough to threaten; enough to see her more clearly, but not enough to see the glint of sharp teeth or untangle the scents of where she’d been.

“You are,” he answers simply, but there is a smile beginning at the corner of his mouth, and his voice is colored more with humor than suspicion. When she glances up at Cirrus he follows her gaze, and if he’d known her thoughts he would have laughed - the big gull claimed him as much as the other way around.

Asterion is growing accustomed to being studied, though it took him a long time to accept that it came with the territory of being king. Now, beneath her dark-eyed gaze, he stands easily, regarding her in turn - each detail he notes only makes him more curious, from her arching horns to the wire curling around her neck to her long and lovely tail, its silver vanishing into the grass. When she speaks again, his eyes go back to hers, and something in her words settles him, broadening his smile.

“Well met, Camillia. I count Queen Isra a good friend - our courts are allies, and you are welcome here. I am Asterion, King of Terrastella. And that,” he adds, gesturing his muzzle upwards, “is Cirrus, my companion.” From high above comes the keening of the gull, but the bay man doesn’t continue watching; the Denoctian woman has his full attention. “What brings you today? I hope the city is faring well.” He refrains, for now, from mentioning Prudence, though the dug-up fields and cadets combing the area must seem curious -

but the less said to strangers about the errant relic, the better.






@Camillia ahhh I can't get over how pretty her design is. sorry for the wait!

if you'll be my star*