He had never been to Terrastella. Come to think of it, Somnus had hardly left the familiar lands of Delumine, preferring to remain local and assist Kasil, Po, and their Court members in any way he could. There was always something that needed done or overseen, and he was always eager and ready to offer his services when the need arose. Be it engaging his King in debates or simple conversation, reading vast novels in the Citadel library, or spending his evenings with Ulric or Caelum, the dunalino gentleman always had something to do.
With the arrival of winter, however, the golden tactician had found himself growing listless, his keen mind desperate for stimulation and interaction. The season was cold, and with the chill of winter and the heavy snowfall, the world simply seemed to slow down. Everything moved at a far different pace in winter, the world falling into a frozen slumber only to be awakened by the intimate prodding of spring.
There was one soul he could think of, however, to challenge the frozen atmosphere. Filled with passionate spirit and charm, the embodiment of warmth and affection to melt the cold, the urge to seek out and speak with Florentine was a great one. While he considered the Dusk Court Sovereign a close friend and ally, their times spent together had been a dismal few. With the world on pause, it seemed to be the perfect opportunity for Somnus to slip away from his sheltered life in Delumine, and so he did just that. The journey was a cold one, the frigid air biting cold during his flight, but the weather proved fair for traveling, and just after the noon hour, the tactician arrived to Terrastella.
He could spot the spire even from his flight, and wings outstretched in flight, the tawny feathers billowed, catching air and slowing his descent. He landed with considerable grace and poise a ways away from the raised citadel, wings tucking back and folded against his sides. Ears flicked forward, perked at attention, as keen verdant eyes scanned his surroundings. There appeared to be no one in sight, but then again, it was terribly chilly, even with the shining sun above them. Perhaps they were all inside the Terrastellan citadel, or otherwise occupied.
Still.
Somnus was not one to be presumptuous or rude, and so he had no qualms in waiting to happen upon a member of the Dusk Court and request and audience with Florentine. Hopefully she wouldn’t be too terribly busy… But then again, he had arrived without notice. Catching his breath, mist furling upwards into the afternoon sky, the dunalino began his approach, hooves guiding the stallion’s approach at a leisurely pace.
Somnus’ silhouette against the twilight sky was familiar to the girl of dusk. She knew those curves, the flare of a mane painted black where it should be gold. She knew the dance of his gilded wings, sculpted now by the black shadows of night.
His arrival was well timed as Florentine, ever the reluctant queen, dropped the book she had been reading (about Novus’ history) and drifted toward the window. His flight captured the girl’s attention like a poem.
She watched the dawn boy descend, pulling the gold from the sun as he went. The sky seemed darker for his loss and the ground a little lighter as the grasses welcomed him down.
A smile tugged at the young queen’s lips. She turned from the window, her eager feet clattering through the library. Disapproving looks dogged her back, nipping along her spine. She ignored the teeth of judgment and in a flurry ascended a spiral flight of stairs, reaching the trellised balcony atop the tower.
From the ramparts Florentine’s gaze, so full of amethyst, fell upon Delumine’s regent far, far below. She scaled the wall, only to tumble from the tower’s tip like a bird shot with an arrow. Feathers and flowers were pulled from her mane as she cascaded down, down towards the earth.
This was her mother’s trick, to climb and climb and climb so high, only to freefall from the very pinnacle of the earth. Mere moments from the ground her wings spread to catch the uprising air. She landed with a thump, less graceful than her mother, but Florentine had never been the gazelle her mother was. This girl was born of ice and fire; she was a war within herself and not one to worry about deportment.
“Somnus!” The flower girl chimed, slender limbs carrying her slowly towards Delumine’s second. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your shapely derrière? Is there a new maze we have yet to explore?” Her lips turn sly, her gaze glittering like mirthful stars.
And then there is a breath, a moment in which her brilliant smile falls away and her lashes cover her eyes for a second, and then two more. When those eyes open, the stars still shine, but their mirth is gone, they are as tender bruises. “I have missed you.”
Would there ever be a moment in Florentine’s company where she did not find reasons to make his heart stop?
Somnus’ verdant eyes, keen and knowing, lifted upwards at the sight of a tumbled blur cascading downwards from the tower balustrade at an alarming rate, all familiar rich golds and lavender petals at the mercy of a free fall. The uncertainty that he felt upon his questionable arrival quickly turned into full-blown terror, eyes widening, dark lips parting because Holy Heavens that was Florentine and she was plummeting towards the earth far too quickly and spread your wings woman and fly! Just as soon as the thought left his mind, rampant and terrified, tawny wings unfurled and, many thanks to the statement of his heart, Florentine landed without trial or trouble.
He let out the breath he had been holding, adrenaline coursing through his veins, before finding himself relaxing. She was well and fine. It was a relief. Dark lips twisted upwards in a genuine, heartfelt smile, feeling all the lighter for the Dusk Queen’s presence. She had that effect, it seemed. Sunshine personified, warm and welcoming, one would never be lost amidst her fine, righteous company. Bright as the moon, the stars, the sun, darkness or depravity would have no sway here, despite the namesake of the very land she ruled.
Florentine’s greeting was a familiar, welcome one. Her words, mirthful and teasing, brought a warm chuckle from the depths of his barrel and he shook his head, truly entertained. “If only I came to bring as exciting news as that,” he acquiesced, his accent warm and jovial despite the chill of winter that hung in the air, “But I fear my reasons of visitation are much more personal.” By the Gods had he missed her, and it was an oddity that he hadn’t even fathomed how much until they stood within one another’s presence. How had he gone so long without visiting? How poor of a choice that had been.
Her eyes are amethysts, imploring and deep, understanding in the way that they shone in the light, and he is undone beneath the weight of her knowing gaze. Somnus’ smile softened, verdant eyes growing almost sad as he regarded her, this reluctant Queen, who carried the burden of leadership upon her very mantle and rose, every day, to accept its challenges and faced repercussions without batting an eye. Florentine deserved so much more.
Positioned now that he was, Regent of Delumine, Somnus had his own share of hopes, aspirations, and worries. He wished to do all that he could to ensure the longevity of his Court, to serve his King and civilians to the best of his abilities. Before a Regent, however, he was a tactician. He dallied in affairs and exploitations, picking which best route to take to ensure the optimal end result. His mind was a flurry of numbers and calculations, estimating probabilities, and now was no different. He hoped, desperately, that one day he, with Kasil’s blessing, and Florentine could come together and speak politics, that they could indulge one another as Courts, and create some kind of alliance based on friendship as opposed to sole politics. One day he wished for that, but that day was not today.
“As have I,” Somnus murmured tenderly, taking a step closer to her and reaching out for physical touch, for physical reaffirmation that all was well, “By the stars have I missed your company, dear Florentine. Ulric sends his regards and affection. Duty has kept him in Delumine, but he wishes that he could be here.” The golden tactician made no effort to put any distance between them. He was comfortable there, at Florentine’s side, eager to simply be around her.
“Apologies that I’ve dallied so long to come. Delumine has kept me rather occupied. Have you been keeping out of trouble?”
Oh to leave books and come here, to find a friend, this is what Florentine was made of. The glitter of mirth shared between friends, the whisper of adventure breathing through the trees, the scent of places infrequently visited, they were to her like the stars, the moon and the sun are to the sky.
So it is, that here, stood before the golden boy of the Dawn Court, Florentine finds herself at ease. He reaches for her, and there is not even a moment of doubt as her muzzle reaches forward to meet his. First his cheek and then his nape, they are soft touches, more sincere than her playful smiles and quips. She offers this boy something more real, in this moment. It is a glimmer of companionship, a maturity she might have once thought was so far from her reach…
Florentine withdraws and the moment is broken by a mischievous curl of her lips. Alas, the girl will never change. “I have missed you too. And Ulric.” She pauses, her mind drifting to plans for a winter temple, for a series of nights spent beneath the stars, beneath the shifting lights of the Aurora. “Will he come to the festival? If not then I should call upon him and find him business in Dusk. I cannot be without him much longer, Somnus.” She pauses, her lips falling, tipping down like a falling sun. It is a moment of mock stillness, a moment of sorrow, deceptively shallow.
“For who else would I annoy? Who else can I pick on?” She peels away from Somnus, her eyes gleaming faerie and wild. Her mane becomes a wave that rises and falls, breaking across her neck in a ripple of petals and wild tangles. “Come, Somnus, I have something to show you!”
And with that, Florentine is running, fleet footed towards the copse of trees. She is feral now, and somewhere behind her, her crown lies discarded into the dirt. Her wings unfurl and she is sky bound in a heartbeat. Petals stream like a banner as the stars welcome her up, up, up.
She was the sun that warmed his chilled heart, the thaw after the frost. Would there ever be a time when her dazzling, infectious smile had no effect on him? The answer, he hoped, was a swift and stubborn ’no’. Somnus allowed a furtive, polite smile to upturn his lips, verdant eyes glittering as he regarded her. A Queen she may be but she was still Florentine, and the Delumine Regent found himself relieved and pleased tremendously that the weight of her position had not dampened her wild spirit.
Good. Hopefully it would remain that way. The weight of a crown was a burden no one should carry alone, but she was strong.
“I do hope so,” he answered with bob of his head, “But with our military ranks so thinned, I believe he is wary to leave our borders unattended. I’ve begun to fear I might have to drag him from the watchtower. It’s a miracle he hasn’t simply begun to wither away.” Their dear friend did need to get out more, sequestered away within the citadel and outlying lands as he was. A rueful grin tore at the dunalino’s face and he could not hide the chuckle that rippled from the depths of his breast. “I believe your charm and wit will be incredibly rejuvenating for him.”
With all things Florentine, as it were, their conversation did not remain stagnant for too long. Inevitably she pulled away, all lavender petals and wild golden tresses, and there was a gleam in her eyes that caused both trepidation and eagerness to alight within his veins. Somnus rose a brow and parted his lips to speak, to question, but like a wild, untamable thing, the Dusk Queen was off.
’Come, Somnus! I have something to show you!’
It was so like her to simply dart ahead, much like when they had ventured the mysterious paths of the maze so many months ago. Just as he had been then, Somnus was left behind, left to scramble at the snow with surprised emerald eyes, lips parted in surprise. “Ah, Florentine!” His words, just as they had then, fell upon deaf ears, and the flabbergasted Regent had no other choice but to follow. ”Wait!” Scrabbling in the snow, hooves pressed forward, mottled wings outstretching with poise and elegance. He took one loping stride forward, then two, wings lifting before sweeping downwards in a mighty arc, the momentum enough to drag the tactician into the sky with a plume of powdery snow crystals erupting in his wake.
Curiosity pulled at him. What was it? By her joy, whatever she wished to bequeath to him held no ill-intent. Perhaps it was a sad truth that he immediately thought the worst. No matter. Up, up, up they go, two golden beams errant from the confines of the sun, rebellious, sunlight personified.
“Flora!” He beckoned over the wind rushing in their ears, the rarely used nickname strained in the melodious lilt of his accent, “Where is it that we are going?” It seemed she would never cease surprising him, ruffling his typically proper and professional demeanor, and just as before, he hoped that she never would.
