lay me down in golden dandelions ‘cause i’ve been waiting
The bittersweet taste of fall apples lingered as he walked away from the bobbing station, a draping of orange leaves and autumn flowers laid across his withers as his reward for partaking in the event. Ipomoea’s body was thrumming with energy, weaving his way through the crowds with an ever-present smile upon his dark lips, ears bobbing in time with the music playing through the streets. The transformation on the Dawn Court reminded him of his time traveling with the merchants, people who knew how to live in the moment, who danced and sang without abandon at nearly all times of the day. It was inherently familiar to him, ingrained into his upbringing (untraditional as it had been), and he found it easy to let go, to forget about anything else and simply be present.
All of the politics slowly faded from his mind, and he was just Ipomoea; not the Emissary of Dawn.
As he walked, making a mental note to revisit the face painting station when the lines lessened, the music began to change. Until now it had been smooth and subtle tones, reminding him of the noise water made while cascading in a fountain. Now it’s tempo had increased, almost maddening so: the heavy beats reverberated in his bones, tingling in his skin, and soon a woman’s husky voice was singing along from somewhere in the crowd to the notes.
’She came to me in rows of white
In the corner of my room
A specter of the night
Silhouetted by the moon...’
Ipomoea wasn’t thinking anymore. His limbs were moving of their own accord, passing first to the left, then two paces to the right, head bobbing in time with the beat, with his heart.
’Colors burst as I close my eyes… ooh-ooh’
He was aware of the others moving around him, dancing in time with him, a single beat seeming to unite them all. It was mindless in the best sort of ways.
As the song began to fade, the woman's voice moving farther and farther away, Po's eyes finally opened, smiling at those nearest to him. "Who knew Denocte's musicians were quite so talented," he spoke to no one in particular, still bobbing and weaving in his own made up rhythms.
Through the beginning stages of the Harvest Festival and the eruption of its grand success, he had felt incredibly relieved. It was palpable, nearly able to be tasted, the joy and elation felt from all of their guests, and it put the golden tactician at a vast level of ease given his worrying tendencies. At the beginning, he had rushed from group to group, ensuring that everyone was well and taking care of anything that they might need. He was a perfectionist, savagely so, and wanted only the best for the participants of the Harvest Festival, no matter their Court or origin. When he wasn't dancing among the masses, fretting for their level of satisfaction, Somnus devotedly remained outside of the crowds, welcoming their guests warmly.
For now, that it was obvious that their guests were enjoying themselves and he did not need to fret over Kasil's disappointment upon the Dawn King's return, he decided to take a few moments of selfish time for himself. With poise and grace he maneuvered through the crowds, dodging moving bodies and stopping long enough to spoil himself and enjoy a spiced apple cake from one of the tables of savory treats before moving on.
An ear flicked to the side as he finished his treat, the songs from the musicians of Denocte catching his attention. The dunalino gentleman turned his head, keen verdant eyes watching the spinning, dancing, prancing bodies of those who cared to indulge in dance to such fine melodies. He lingered throughout the duration of the song, simply listening, before drawing closer as the song began to fade.
He came to stand next to a painted brother of Dawn, Ipomoea, Emissary to the Dawn Court. They knew of each other, but not intimately. Not the way that Somnus knew Ulric, or even Florentine of the Dusk Court. Not even the way that he knew the Dawn King himself, and that alone was sparingly. He made a face of momentary displeasure with himself; was he truly so scarce in his own land that he hardly knew the familiar faces among the masses?
Ah, well. Some things could simply not be helped. Perhaps it would do him some good to not spend so much time within the familiar walls of the library, however.
As the song finally faded, the singers and dancers moving on to the next bout of merriment, the dunalino's head turned and he caught the brilliant shade of magenta eyes, catching the words spoken reverently with high praise. He smiled, dark lips turning upwards in a sincere expression, and the tactician dipped his horned head in agreement.
"Indeed," he began, the eloquent lilt of his accent making his words sound softer than he had intended, "I've heard rumors, but never had the pleasure to listen with my own ears. We are lucky that they've traveled so far to bestow us with their finest musicians." Lucky indeed. "Have you been enjoying yourself thus far?"
@Ipomoea
"There is nothing noble in being superior to your fellow man; true nobility is being superior to your former self."
lay me down in golden dandelions ‘cause i’ve been waiting
Ipomoea drew closer to the soft words spoken in reply, dark ears tilted towards their source. Of course he recognized the dun whom came to stand beside him, if only by name: it was Somnus, the man responsible for organizing such an event. Often in the past several days had he seen his pale frame rushing to and from in the streets, ever presently involved in the set ups and preparations taking place. Of course, Ipomoea had had his own work to do, preparing messages for the three other Courts, the invitations to Dawn’s Festival proving to be far more time-consuming than he had originally anticipated. No matter, it had all come together in the end, and the fruits of both mens’ labor were displayed all throughout the capitol.
“Oh yes—I imagine Denocte to always be like this, with such gifted artisans hanging around.” After all, the Night King seemed one to enjoy a party or two himself, or so he gathered from his sparse meetings with the man. Perhaps that was a trait they could expect to percolate into the Delumine culture in the coming months—were the alliance between the Dawn and Night Courts to prosper. Personally, Ipomoea would not complain: he had missed the frenzy of living with the merchants, even without knowing it. The liveliness was infectious, taking over his body and heart and bleeding madness through his arteries. It had happened to him as a boy, and it happened to him still, on the cusp of adulthood, nearing the transition from colt to stallion. Every day brought Winter closer and still he lived with young abandon, his youth displayed in full force tonight.
His dark lips, smooth as velvet and bare of scruff, pulled upwards into a smile. “I can hardly think of a time I’ve had more fun,” he enthused, striking a mottled leg to the earth to emphasis his words. “Truly, I think we’ve outdone all of Novus!” An exaggeration, sure—but Ipomoea was feeling good, surrounded by strangers who were likewise friends, why shouldn’t he believe this night to be the best of his life?
“I’m not sure we’ve ever officially met before? I’m Ipomoea,” his phrases were uncensored, for he cared not to watch them for formality this night. “And you are Somnus, if I am not mistaken?” The words poured out light and warm, as though he addressed an old friend.
It was easy to forget that they were naught but strangers as he stood within Ipomoea’s vibrant presence. It was easy to slip into that relaxing, casual air around him, as though in the company of an old, intimate friend. It was the same familiarity he normally reserved for those who knew him best; like Ulric, perhaps, if he were making recent comparisons. Unbidden, Somnus’ head began to dip and nod in time with the new song that had since picked up, ears perked forward as he absorbed the jovial tune, but still clearly keeping his focus on that of the Dawn Emissary. Sharp verdant eyes remained upon the painted youth, watching the pull of his lips as they formed a warm smile, the dancing personification of life that swam within rich eyes.
“Perhaps we have,” Somnus praised knowingly, allowing himself to feel a bit of pride at their success. The planning for the festival had been daunting, sure, but together they had all pulled together, creating something positively magical and beautiful. Although his time within Novus was brief, the golden tactician was quite certain that he shared Ipomoea’s sentiments that this was, perhaps, the most fun he’d had in some time, sans the stress and anxiety. The loss of Vhallen was still one that he carried, the unfathomable ache of losing his kind, passionate King still fresh, but these happy times helped heal those old wounds. Maybe soon they wouldn’t sting so deeply.
At the younger male’s innocent inquiry as to his person, Somnus returned his easy-going smile and nodded his head once more, this one not in time with the tune that sang through the air. “Indeed I am. It’s a pleasure, Ipomoea, truly. Our meeting has been long overdue.” He paused, albeit briefly, letting his body begin to sway slightly with the pull of music, ever mindful of his space so as not to bump into anyone who may be passing by. “Although I must say, I’m pleased to meet you under such jovial circumstances. It makes for a memorial occasion.”
The song eventually faded into the clear sky, the last notes drifting into silence, but it wasn’t long afterwards that another picked up in its place. Still Somnus swayed, allowing the stress, the worries, the anxieties of hoping that everyone else enjoyed themselves to slip from his shoulders. For now, he only wanted to enjoy himself, to take a few selfish moments to satisfy his own needs and wants. So accustomed was he to ensuring the satisfaction of others that he easily overlooked himself. Now, however, was time for fun. Flashing emerald eyes glanced to the crowds before looking back to Ipomoea, and Somnus’ smile grew, dark lips pulling back with a flash of teeth in an eager grin.
“Would you care to join me for a dance, good Po?”
@Ipomoea! So sorry for the wait! <3
"There is nothing noble in being superior to your fellow man; true nobility is being superior to your former self."
