[P] (fall) memories down our cheeks

[Ipomoea]

the earth laughs in flowers

---

He watches for a while, as the musicians play their flutes and the fireflies settle against their skin. He watches from the shadows of the forest, because he has almost forgotten how to separate himself from them.

The forest leans in all around him, pressing branches and flowers and leaves against his skin like it would like nothing more than to turn him into one of them. He almost wishes they would - his heart already beats in time to the murmurs of the sap deep buried deep in the trunk, his roots are already sunk as deep as the roots of the trees. Ipomoea does not know anymore how to be anything but a vessel: for anger, for magic, for change.

So when the first few fireflies drift towards the grove of trees he watches from, and brush their wings against his skin like a dozen freshly-made promises, a part of him wants to shy away.

He wants to turn his head from them and duck back beneath the trees, to forget that things like magic and wonder and hope still exist. He wants to pretend he’s still hunting, still searching for a purpose that goes beyond creating flowers just to make something beautiful. He knows of course that there would be no point of fighting if it were not for hope - the same way he knows he has fought for so long now, it almost doesn’t seem to matter anymore.

His heart starts to beat dully, echoing in all that empty space inside of his chest.

The notes of the music start to rise, and the fireflies begin to drift away.

And he begins to drift away with them.

His heart starts to feel something like a song, rising and falling with the music. And his legs start to move in time with it, alternating slow and fast, weaving and flowing with the sounds of the flute to guide them. Ipomoea can hear his blood rushing in his ears, but above that, beyond that, he can hear the river. Each step brings him closer, brings more fireflies settling upon his skins, brings that sliver of peace he still clutches somewhere in the deepest parts of himself closer to the surface. And as he starts to dance, he starts to feel something like a king again, pressed in close beside his people.

It is only when the sweat starts to darken his skin and two dozen fireflies rest upon his crown that he sees her. He recognizes her at once, even with the fireflies floating between them and demanding any attention he has to spare. Her dappled tones are framed softly with the gold of the lights and the blue of the river, but it is her.

“Corrdelia!” he calls out to her, and is already stepping through the small gathered crowd towards her. And as he tips his head back and laughs, if only for the simple pleasure of being alive and well despite the shadows that linger still all around them, he can almost excuse the way Hasta slumps on her shoulder.

@corrdelia ! notes
”here am i!“

⚘

[Corrdelia]

Corrdelia takes her time to head to the river. She's not sure if it's apprehension or exhaustion that makes her walk slower.

Somehow she had been a little more social in Terrastella than she's been here and she's not quite sure why. The environment here is nothing but comforting, if anything more so than the swamps. All those in the Court have been kind to her too, so it's not the people. She's always been one to enjoy her time alone anyway, but lately she's felt even more like a hermit than usual. So when it was announced that Dawn would be having a fall celebration, she knew she needed to go. It's for her own good, but also so she can start to make an appearance within the court. If she managed to find some new clients along the way too, she wouldn't complain.

As she approaches, there is the familiar roaring of the river in the distance, but there's something else. Music? It makes more sense once the trees clear and she can see the flute player. There is a small gathering of horses here, but what catches her eye are the floating lights. The closer she gets, the more easily she can see the little wings on their backs and she realizes they're fireflies. All of them. They float in this space like something ethereal.

For once, she is smiling. A genuine, childlike smile.

It seems the tone is the same among the group. She can hear laughter and the tapping of hooves in dance. Corr looks around, taking it all in, including the colorful auras of those around her. She can feel the mood here and it brings her into a place of zen she hasn't been able to reach for quite some time.

Hāsta is perched on her shoulder (or rather, slumped), as per usual. She is quiet, likely taking in all the sights as much as Corr is. She certainly isn't one for crowds or events or really anything fun. Maybe for once, her companion can learn to have fun too tonight.

A familiar voice brings her out of her thoughts and she turns to see Ipomoea coming over. Corr's smile gets bigger and, as the Sovereign laughs, she notices the yellow of his aura and the fireflies settling on his crown. She honestly can't recall seeing his aura as wonderful as it appears tonight. It seems even for him, this night is treating him well. She knows with the events of the poachers, perhaps he needs this more than she does.

"Po," she says in greeting, showing her teeth in a sort of goofy smile. There is no need to bring the dark thoughts into her head now. They both deserve a night to just have fun.

Now that Corr is still, some of the fireflies start to linger in the air before a few gather around her neck. Much to Hāsta's displeasure, some find themselves attracted to her wings and settle on the tips of her shoulders.

"I can't say I've ever seen this many fireflies. It's like something out of a dream," she says, still in awe of the scene before them. There is an urge inside Corr to chase the bugs like she used to do as a foal, but she doesn't yet. They're too pretty to scare off right now and she likes the way they make everything magical.

"Speaking."

credits

@Ipomoea <3

[Ipomoea]

the earth laughs in flowers

---

Maybe it’s the fireflies landing light as teardrops against his skin, or the sound of the river whispering come away, come away in the background. Maybe it all reminds him of another night in another part of the river, where the reeds grew tangled and thick and red foam took the place of lilies. Ipomoea can feel his body beginning to move like a dance again, like the first blades of grass spearing their way through the snow (it’s fitting, that he should be blooming when the rest of the world is wilting again, the trees burrowing their roots to avoid the freeze that would come by morning.)

It’s almost easy to forsake the shadows tonight, to pretend he is someone who revels in the twilight like the rest of his court.

“Corrdelia,” he says again, and touches his shoulder to her’s in a greeting that is as warm as the circle of lantern-light that presses them together. “How have you been?”

It feels so long ago, that last-winter. It feels like when the ground finally thawed it sucked up all the blood-soaked snow like water, choked it down like it had never happened. Or maybe that’s just what he tells himself, when he feels the wind growing colder and knows winter was only a breath away. But tonight he doesn’t want to think about the incoming winter (in the morning, perhaps) or the previous one (when he could remember more than just the red of the snow, hopefully). Tonight he wants to remember what it is like to smile, to feel as light as an autumn leaf on the breeze.

It just feels so far away.

But when he pulls just far enough away from her to laugh and say “it must be something in the water, if both us and the fireflies are drawn to it,” it starts to feel a little closer. And his heart starts to beat to the tune of the music, drawing him closer and closer to the water, to the dancing, to the game he doesn’t quite know how to play. “Should we go and see for ourselves?”

And he’s already pulling her towards the water with another smile and a laugh, and it sounds something like music playing over the waves. The water is still calling him, begging to be made into a garden, and from the moment his hooves touch it mosaic flowers and irises begin to spread across the shallows.

He plucks a yellow blossom as soon as it opens and tucks it — water still dripping down its petals — behind one of her ears. A bit of gold to match the fireflies. "Are your dreams usually this bright?" he asks. But what he does not say is, I hope they are — because mine never are.

@corrdelia ! notes
”here am i!“

⚘

[Corrdelia]

The crow witch welcomes the touch to her shoulder. As he does so, there is a gentle nudge of his calm and happiness. She breathes it in with the fresh fall air that has just a hint of damp earth and flowers. Just as she remembers him.

Last winter is a shadow. A demon in the night that she has long since banished. All she lets in are memories of meeting him and seeing his magic for the first time. The rest feels like a thick fog and she doesn't dare to venture much farther than that. Besides, this evening is not meant for that energy. The fireflies are telling her that as they nestle into her feathers and drift along her skin.

"I've been well. I finally finished unpacking and the forest seems to have welcomed me. All my herbs are growing in the garden again," she answers, her mind drifting to her home in the woods and the bright scent of her plants. Those buggers had been so stubborn at first, but now finally they too seem to be settling in. It's all feeling a little more balanced.

The music can be felt even deeper than just within her ears and she has the sudden urge to dance to its tune. When Po suggests they check out the river, she's already starting to move her hooves to the beat while she nods in agreement.

They make their way there with their laughter and dancing. It all comes together in a perfect moment as Po's magic truly brings the river to life. Corr will never grow tired of watching this and wonders if Delumine gets more of its beauty from his abilities.

When he tucks one of his flowers behind her ear, she feels honored to be given such a beautiful gift. But talking of dreams and brightness, it seems the flower is the more colorful thing in this conversation. Corr doesn't want to bring a dark cloud between them.

"Depends on what herbal mixture I make for myself and if there are any mushrooms in it," she says with a laugh, uncertain if Po is familiar with their effects. "But this - I could say here forever." More particularly this moment, these feelings and these smells. It all comes together and just feels so perfect. It brings a balance that she didn't realize she had been longing for.

Maybe she was always meant to be here, it just took her some time to find her way.

"What brought you to Delumine in the first place?" she asks, wondering if he'll feel comfortable telling his story. "Or were you one of the lucky ones to be born here?" Of course, there are days she misses the fields of Astreas and the clear view of the constellations above her, but that is all in her past now (in another realm, even). This is her home now and she's not sure that she could go back to the world from before. She wonders if Po is similar in that he needed to make a journey elsewhere and it led him to this wondrous place.

"Speaking."

credits

@Ipomoea <3

[Ipomoea]

the earth laughs in flowers

---

It’s different this time, than when they last met — lighter. Brighter. The glow of the fireflies and the splashing of the river, the music and laughter breaking gently over them. He can feel himself slipping, falling, falling, falling into the spirit of the night (it makes a distant part of him begin to wonder if that’s all he is now, a ghost, floating from memory to memory, living in other peoples’ emotions.)

He smiles, and tries not to think that every kite has a weight holding it down, that the leap of his heart is only soaring so far when there’s a string tied to it and, at the other end, a rock.

The trees will remember for him, even if he forgets for tonight.

“I would like to see it,” he tells her, as violets and bluebells spring up around them. “Would you have me over sometime?” He wonders if it would look like the witches’ cottages in the stories — hemlock and poison ivy draped in sheets over it, overgrown weeds and wildflowers making it blend into the forest around it, chanterelle and oyster mushrooms springing from half-rotten wood walls, a nightlight opened in the roof to the stars. It would suit her, he thinks. He could bring a bouquet of wildflowers with him to set in a vase, to brighten her workstation.

He’s moving freely now, speaking freely, when they reach the riverside. The water splashes against his skin and turns his coat dark, runs in teardrops down his sides, and all he does is laugh and wade in deeper. A thousand fireflies drift around his crown, their color brightening his cheeks to a deep rose color. The restless nights, the frayed nerves, the wardrum beat of his heart, it slips away. Tonight, tonight, tonight, the river whispers to him each time it swells against his legs. Leave it behind tonight.

And he does. “I grew up in Solterra,” his voice does not sound like his own. It sounds like the orphan-boy from the desert, seeing the river for the first time. “Delumine felt the closest like home, I suppose. I sometimes think I was born in the wrong place — but the desert makes me appreciate grass just that much more.”

There’s a bit of mischief shining in his eyes when a firefly wanders too close. And there is only a moment, when he pauses knee-deep in the water and turns back to the crow-witch, that he wonders why the river, and why tonight, and why the fireflies seemed drawn only to those with a bit of a shadow filling the space between their lungs.

But the next moment he is dipping his head beneath the waves, the cold water making his cheeks flush and his heart begin to race. And when he flings his head back up and sends a sheet of water splashing over her, he forgets why the questions mattered at all.

@corrdelia ! notes
”here am i!“

⚘

[Corrdelia]

Corr's eyes glisten like the blinking lights of the fireflies and twinkling stars. The atmosphere is so bright and childlike and she can feel it wrapping around her like a soft blanket. She wants to get lost in this feeling and these moments. She nearly does before Po's words pull her back in.

"Only if you brighten it up with your beautiful flowers and maybe some vines for some flare," the woman replies, imagining just how pretty that would all look. Of course, she likes to harvest her own herbs and flowers and things, but magical flora is all the more special.

As they make their way into the river, she can feel Po's calmness and his laughter. It's contagious and she's okay with it, so she laughs with him. The crown of fireflies fits him, perhaps more than he realizes. The water laps at their legs, but it's not raging around them like usual and is instead welcoming them just as the lightning bugs are on this night.

Corr is surprised to find out that he grew up in the desert of Solterra. The man who is one with the trees and the flowers being born in the land that has barely any of that (if at all). It makes sense though why he would feel drawn to this place and feel more at home. It called to him, just like Novus had called to her from the other side of a portal so long ago. If only she had been born here, but she will always have fond memories of her homeland.

"Where we're born does not have to define us if we don't want it to. I can tell you belong here, Po," she reassures him in case he ever had some doubts. "And grass is certainly a plus."

The crow witch becomes distracted by a couple of fireflies fluttering in front of her when they are suddenly spooked away by the splash of water. For a moment, Corr blinks in confusion and as her lashes clear away the droplets, she can see the look of mischief in Po's face. She curls her lip.

They are kids again as she swipes the tip of her wing through the water to send a splash back at the king. She laughs, hardly being able to contain it. Before he might have a chance to splash her again, she starts to trot away, water sloshing beneath her. Corr is mindful of her footing and spreads her wings out a little for balance. Now he will have to try and catch her.

"Speaking."

credits

@Ipomoea <3

[Ipomoea]

the earth laughs in flowers

---

It has been too long, he realizes with a start, since he has laughed like this. He thinks he may have forgotten how, may have lost the sound of it somewhere between the sound of crying and screaming — between the sounds of a war and the silence of coming home from it.

But he finds that his lungs remember the sound of it. And once he starts, he cannot stop.

The water makes him forget about the coldness of the forest surrounding them, and the way frost is creeping higher and higher on the trees each night. And the fireflies make him forget the way they had met, and the way the witch woman’s crow hangs slumped along her shoulders (and he forgets, too, the way Odet guards his desk in the castle, as cold and still as any statue.)

And then there is the magic of the night, lighting a fire in his veins to keep him warm leading into the long winter ahead of them.

So he races through the water after Corrdelia, and wonders at the way his steps feel more like dancing than running (another thing he thought he had forgotten how to do.) And his voice starts to sound more like music than war cries, when he tilts his head towards the moon like a wolf rejoining its pack.

Winter feels so very far away, when he's in the company of friends.

"Thank you," he tells her, breathless and smiling, when he catches up to her again in the water. And even when he is not sure what he is thanking her for —

it feels like he is thanking her for everything.

@corrdelia !
”here am i!“

⚘

[Corrdelia]

Although her mind shields her darker memories, Corrdelia can vaguely think back to how her and Po first met. She had been distraught about… something. All she remembers is how beautiful his magic was and that he had been a good friend even when they were only acquaintances. She wasn’t normally the type to be worried about what others thought of her, but she remembers being very vulnerable then. Po made her feel right at home and that’s when she knew she had to make these woods her official home.

Now, she’s so glad that she did. Somehow she’s felt more alive in these months of living here than she had ever felt before. It’s like the Earth knew she was meant to be here too and welcomed her with open wings. Even Hasta seems to be enjoying herself more here.

The universe works in mysterious ways and Corr is a firm believer in that everything happens for a reason. As she watches Po trot after her in the water, she can tell that he’s happier. There’s more spring in his step and she can read it in his aura.

His thank you is so genuine, she can’t help but smile. In a way, he doesn’t need to thank her. Maybe she should be thanking him, but it’s all part of friendship. You help each other out and give each other safe spaces to grow and to just be. Po was able to do that for her and so she has been able to do that for him.

Still, it would be rude of her not to respond. "You’re welcome," she says and gently presses her head against his shoulder. She trots off then, but not quite as fast so that he’s able to catch up. She can’t think of a better way to enjoy the rest of this night but with a friend by her side.

"Speaking."

credits

@Ipomoea <3