Taking that first step into the Dusk Court had felt like coming home, like the trees themselves were welcoming him back with the gentle waving of their branches in the wind, showering him with a flurry of fallen leaves and flower petals. Every sight, every scent, every sound was familiar to him, a hundred different comforts that seemed to ease his mind in nearly an instant. He had come at dusk, having watched the sun carefully during the day so that he could be sure he arrived at the perfect time to experience Vespera’s pride and joy.
For a moment, he was still: listening to the wind whisper sweet nothings to him, carrying with it the music of the Dusk Court. He brushed his muzzle delicately, sweetly, every so gently across the trunk of a tree he stood beside, hovering a fraction of an inch away before taking the plunge to press himself firmly into the bark.
A myriad of colors and emotions flashed inside of his mind like lightning. An interlocking web of energy from not only this tree: but from several of the trees surrounding it, and the grass, and the woodpecker hiding far above in it’s branches, and the line of ants trudging up one of its exposed roots. With a startled snort, Ipomoea pulled back sharply, the tip of his nose tingling like he had been zapped by electricity.
He sat back into a mini rear, his sudden movement startling Odet into flight, the stellar’s jay abandoning the safety of his withers for the open air.
Dirt was kicked up behind him as he took off, shooting like an arrow through the swamp, hoof beats echoing loudly on the wooden walkways. He spun and cavorted, kicking his heels up like a young colt on his way, thundering through the swamp without a care in the world. Odet swooped along behind him, chattering angrily at the unexpected change in his companion’s behavior. Ipomoea simply laughed in response, the sounds of his joy loud in the otherwise still swamp.
Trees flashed by in a whirl as he passed them, hardly aware of where he was going, simply following the strip of wood beneath his hooves.
Until suddenly he burst through the trees and into a clearing, where the swampy ground was replaced by tall grasses and wildflowers, the wooden walkway disappearing suddenly under hoof. Ipomoea skid sharply to a stop, his breath catching high in his throat as a kaleidoscope of colors greeted him from above, the skies turned into a canvas for the Terrastellan goddess.
The deepest of purples and blues brightened the closer they got to the horizon, where reds and pinks and golds flamed brightly. It was breathtaking and beautiful, arguably the most mesmerizing sunset he had seen to date. Ipomoea was so caught up in wonder and awe that he failed to notice anything else about the meadow, so enraptured was he by the skies.
@Florentine i am so excited for them! <3
”here am i!“
Florentine smiles from the sky as she watches Delumine’s Regent running through the swamp. Even from above she could hear the splash of the mud and the clatter of feet on the wooden boards. From on high she follows him, wings tipping as she studies the flower boy below.
He was just a shadow, a streak of brown, but she knows the gleam of those pale wings, the bright of his flower crown.So it is no surprise when he erupts from the cover of the trees. The twilight sky arrests him with its colours and the boy skids to a halt. Mud and petals scatter and Florentine sinks to land a few feet from the spray.
“I did not know your tree-hugging skills were so up to scratch, Po.” The flower girl remarks with a smile. Her tail flicks, lavender petals scattering into the long grasses at her feet.
The meadow sighs, a sleepy exchange that promise the coming of night. “You are far from Dawn.” The fae-queen remarks with a smile as she steps close to him. Her lips brush his cheek, a warm greeting for an old friend. “Each time I see you I hear of a new promotion. Somnus had better watch his back, hmm?” The girl adds with an impish smile and the tip of a gilded wing nudges against his side.
“Walk with me.” She hums, as she turns from him. Not giving him a chance to escape, she leads them on through the brightly coloured meadow and its sea of flowers.
Florentine has pressing matters to discuss. As they walk she plucks a daisy and then a dandelion, and then another flower and another, weaving them all together. On and on she picks blossoms as they walk, threading them into a chain.
“There have been many rumours circulating Novus of late, did you know?” It was such an innocuous beginning, so quietly does she weave her flowers into jewelry, so steadily does she walk beside her friend. “The one about you ascending to Regent was true, but, I was wondering if you could shed light on another?” She lets the question hang for a moment before slowly lifting her finished garland to drop it about his neck. It is as she lowers it that she asks, casually, “Who is this Messalina, Po?” And it is only when the garland is settled about his neck that the Dusk queen peers up at him with a mischievous smile.
“I want all the details. Is she nice? Does she treat you well?” Her smile fades for just a moment, her eyes drinking in her fellow flower-boy. A protective instinct, fierce and strong slips like gasoline through her veins. She did not wish for him to suffer the pain she had when a love became so terribly lost.
@Ipomoea - I thought she was going to be more subtle than this. Apparently not, sorry Po xDD <3
It’s from the sky that she appears, a streak of gold framed by the brilliant colors of the sunset. Her hair and petals are streaming everywhere, the tips of her feathers illuminated by light—Florentine wears the colors of dusk on her skin, as vibrant and brilliant as Vespera herself.
Po watches her land, but his focus is still on the horizon. The sun sinks lower and lower every second, color exploding where the heavens kiss the earth. The Dusk Queen speaks, and Po responds with a smile. If only she knew: power flowed through his veins now, unlike any he’d ever dreamed of. The ability to talk to the trees was wholly and uniquely his—and he loved them even more since. If Florentine thought Po had loved his flowers before, it was nothing compared to the fondness he regarded nature with now.
“It was worth the trip.” He finally takes his eyes from the sunset, regarding his old friend warmly as she brushes his cheek with a kiss. “It’s been too long.”
He throws his head back with a laugh, his wings curling against his ankles as the mirth bubbles from his throat. “Somnus? He’s the one who took a crown, maybe you’d better watch him.”
He falls into step alongside her without hesitation. His blood still tingles with adrenaline, but he forces himself to walk now—admiring the way the fading light filters through the swamp and illuminates specks of dust in the air.
Florentine picks the flowers as they walk but Ipomoea listens to them. The tips of his wings brush through the sea of color, their bright specks of life sparking in his mind. Over and over again he experiences the beauty of the sunset, imprinted in the petals of the daisies and dandelions.
They continue on like this for several minutes, both enjoying the walk and each other’s company. Po loses himself in the sea of information the meadow provides him, their slow moving thoughts and gentle emotions, the connections between each blade of grass. When the flower girl finally speaks, she pulls him back to the present.
He looks back at her curiously, stopping in his tracks. He’s able to play dumb for only a minute, confusion fading as a blush quickly burns his cheeks.
As the finished garland is placed around his neck, Ipomoea’s heart stutters and nearly stops, skipping a beat then speeding up. Messalina. The freckled dancer with roses in her hair, pirouetting her way into both his mind at all the wrong (right?) times. His blush deepens in color, and Po is sure Florentine can see it. “You know about Messalina?” The question comes out in a stutter, his blood absolutely racing now. Does she talk about me, then?
And just like that, his thoughts are consumed again. How could Florentine expect simple answers about a complicated girl? There aren’t enough words in the world to explain how Ipomoea is feeling. A smile spreads across his face without his even realizing it, turning his lips upwards into a childlike grin, not unlike a colt who’s tasted his first piece of candy.
“Messalina is…” What could he say? A thousand words flashed through the Regent’s mind: charming, kind, elegance incarnate, with a laugh that he longed to hear more of. His scarlet eyes lifted, slowly meeting Florentine’s gaze. “She makes me heart dance,” he said simply, his voice a sigh on the wind. “Even when she’s not around, I wish she was.”
He was still so young, so naive. But when it came to love, Ipomoea had no qualms in following his heart.
@Florentine eep sorry about the wait! Flora has mastered the art of subtlety apparently haha
”here am i!“
always one decision away from a totally different life
-- ♕ --
Florentine’s smile is wicked with Ipomoea’s laugh. She surveys the way the boy has grown, the way the trees and flowers seem to watch him. Her Court is different with him here and he is too. Ah, had she known the power that thrums through his veins, the way that nature whispers in his ear, telling and knowing and so full of secrets…
Yet she does not. So instead Florentine stands and watches with wonder and curiosity settling warm and itchingly within her. Slowly her gaze lifts to watch the way her laughter flows from him like water from a mountain. “Ah, then have you come to warn me Po?” The girl asks in jest, her mind drifting back to the day they met upon the Dawn Court roof and watched the sun rise. “Should I watch my court?” For a while she lets that question hang, silence falling like a feather between them. There is no part of her that does not jest, for she does not even linger to consider that Somnus might yearn for her Court too.
All at once their conversation sways and her gaze settles upon the blush of his cheeks. Her smile is wide and victorious, though her gaze unrelenting as she studies him. “I do.” Florentine confirms when he asks of her knowing Messalina. “I do not know her personally. However, I should like to meet her…” Flora trails off and never has she one to leave her motives in question. “You should bring her round to tea one day.” With that Florentine casts him a sidelong glance. Her lips twitch, but she offers him no respite. She will meet Messalina, of that the Dusk queen is sure. “Or else I might have to come to Delumine and search her out myself.” Ah her laughter is like wine, rich and warm.
But oh, to hear the way Ipomoea speaks of his love, his heart… The gilded girl sighs, “Treasure that, brother. If she is so good for you and to you, keep her close and treasure her.”
