There is some niggling feeling of discomfort in him, like a burr well-caught, as he watches the pale colt through the waving, reaching grass. It takes Charlemagne a long time to realize what it is, and when finally he does he feels ashamed.

It is too like his own arrival here, if he were Florentine, and the young stallion were him. The deja vu washes over him like a wave and he shakes his head, his golden horn catching the summer sunlight. The feeling makes him want to slip away, but the liver chestnut cannot. The memory his brief meeting with the Dusk Court girl is enough to send him trotting forward, determined to make friends.

He’s remembered the boy’s name - Pan - by the time he approaches, and is glad of the importance his parents had stressed in him to remember names and titles. He is less sure of the next thing the boy says. Charlemagne had a rough idea of the gods of Novus, but his own people had worshipped no gods at all, and he’d yet to speak to anybody here about their beliefs. Even so, he knows it’s Oriens that the Dawn Court claimed as theirs. It makes him curious, and it’s an uncertain smile he’s wearing when finally he reaches Pan.

“Well, I’m not Solis,” he answers, as soon as he is near enough to make reply without raising his voice. “And why are you looking for him, anyway? Aren’t you a member of the Dawn Court? I saw you at the meeting.” Immediately he regrets the question - or at least the tone of it - and wishes he’d asked instead if Pan had seen Solis before. But he says nothing more, and only watches the scaled stallion curiously.

@Pan yay Pan!

“The sea?” he echoes, casting his memory back until it snags on the event in question. “Oh. With Martin?” He feels something like a pang of sorrow, remembering the other unicorn, who had been conspicuously absent since the Court meeting. Perhaps that was for the best; Charlemagne had a tendency to not get along with warriors, however polite they may be.

Instead of lingering on it, he remembers instead the way the pale colt had floated in the swells, hardly visible except for his head. At the time the unicorn had found it unsettling; now, though, having seen Pan interact with others, he glances at the other colt with interest. “How did you learn to swim like that? You were like a seal.”

Pan’s laughter is like a balm for Charlemagne, and he’s grateful for it, smiling at the other boy’s response even as he wonders about the gods in question. He had no reason to doubt they were real, but the idea of one appearing to him set his heart to strange thrumming. “I don’t know those you mentioned,” he says thoughtfully, though certainly if he knew who Florentine referred to this conversation would take a rapid turn. “But Florentine is right. I don’t know much about them, but I know Oriens is the god of the Dawn Court, and values wisdom and honesty. Solis is for Day, Vespera is Dusk, and Night is…” he trails off, biting his lip and furrowing his brow for a long moment as he struggled to remember. Eventually he gave up with a shake of his head, and glances sheepishly at Pan. “Well, I can’t recall at the moment. But I don’t know much beyond the names.”

But the question itself - and the knowledge that there is an answer, somewhere - is enough to revive Charlemagne’s eagerness to learn, and his green eyes are brighter when they meet the other boy’s. “We could find someone and ask? Or maybe go and call on Oriens ourselves. We’re of his court…do you suppose he’d be more likely to answer?”


@Pan

“I can understand that. I always felt most comfortable in the library…less awkward.” His smile then is a little wry, thinking of the unfortunate interaction with the white-blue stranger in Delumine’s library. That had been the direct opposite of less awkward, and he wonders what his haven might be, now. Perhaps he would have none, and would only have to accept his awkwardness.

But there are better things to dwell on, now, and he can’t help but come nearer when Pan points out his scales. With a ‘may I’ sort of look, he brushed his muzzle light as a whisper against a section of scales, wondering at the strange-to-him texture of them. When he withdraws again, retreating a polite few steps, it’s with a considering expression but a brightness in his eyes. “Maybe he was. I wonder how he met your mother? Perhaps they had a great and tragic romance.” He smiles at the thought, however farfetched; it reminds him of some of the books he’d read, of star-crossed lovers who couldn’t be together.

Though perhaps that was unfair to Pan - being a child of such a relationship might make it seem not nearly so romantic or desirable.

His ears perk at the other boy’s question, and he wonders just how much Pan had known about the Dawn Court before deciding to join them. Perhaps not everyone had heard of their great knowledge - but that was a reputation Charlemagne was happy to share. “The library at the Dawn Court is vast, and they’re known for their scholars…though there do seem to be fewer of them than I imagined. But I bet any answers could be found there.” There’s a strange reluctance tugging at his heart at the thought of returning so soon to Delumine’s ivy-covered walls - the day was so lovely, the meadow alive, and the chestnut felt freer here, away from the castle. It makes Pan’s suggestion all the more tempting.

He draws near again with the pale colt draws out the mineral, and the way the sunlight glances over its many-faceted surface does indeed make him think of the dawn. “That’s a wonderful idea,” he says, and means it - why shouldn’t a god want a gift? He only wishes he had his own to give.

Pan’s offer makes him smile, and shrug one dappled brown shoulder. “I don’t know how to worship at all. Maybe your thoughtfulness will make up for both of us.” With a glance at the mountain in question - not so intimidating, from this view with the summer lush around them - Charlemagne follows with both hope and caution.


@Pan wanna post on the Peak?