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« “Then he is a monster!" the Prince crowed, "and I must slay him at once. The Formula works!" »
A
ugust has never been so far from home.
It took him the better part of a week to reach Delumine, traveling in a caravan with others from the Night Court. After spending the better part of the winter recuperating in a cellar (really more of a cavern, but August still held too much of a grudge to think of it with even that much generosity), it felt good to be in the fresh air, out of the city. Though he’d been at thing of buildings and comforts all his life, there was something about bedding down in the new spring grass beneath the clear stars, something about walking and grazing through dew-silver meadows, that made him think during the trip that they’d gotten it wrong, coming indoors.
But then he reached the outskirts of Delumine, and bought an ale in an old stone pub, and chalked those thoughts up to open-air fancy.
Tonight, the first of the festival, he’s spent mostly observing. Near the towering pines he let some children paint his coat in dark green and rust-colored whorls, patterns he can’t quite decipher. He’d overheard someone explain that the festival was for fertility, but he pretended not to have heard. He had, however, allowed a pretty sorrel mare to place a crown of forsythia blooms around his head, like a halo, though the vivid yellow clashed with his more subdued gold.
So he feels quite festive, as he wanders over to the fires. The horses tending them are just beginning to add the colored powers, and the familiar oranges flare blue and green and purple; for a moment he watches, mesmerized, before walking on.
When he sees Morrighan, unmistakable despite the wash of unnatural green light over her from the bewitched fire, August considers turning around. Slipping away into the jovial crowd, the crackle of wood and filter of smoke. But he has been a glutton for punishment for a while, now, and mentally steeling himself he strolls over to her, casting a quick glance around the Regent to be sure she didn’t already have her own particular brand of flame lit.
“You must feel at home here, Regent,” he says lightly, and indicates the bonfires all around them.
There had been many times on their way over here that Morrighan almost turned around. The further they got from Denocte, the bigger the pit in her stomach got. She forgot how much bigger the world was out here and just how much she hated that. Denocte felt comfortable and she knew every inch of their Court lands. Out here, anything is possible and that includes all the dangers that could come to Maeve.
Ever since losing her on the island, she's kept a much closer eye on the girl. It seems like for now she doesn't mind too much since it had scared her quite a bit. Morr feels foolish putting her into that situation, but she vows to never set foot on that stupid island again. She'll never understand what magic is at work there, but she's quickly gotten sick of it.
At least here, there are many signs of life versus decay. All you can smell is damp earth, herbs and woodsmoke in the air. She has to admit that Delumine has certainly lived up to the expectations that her daughter set for her. This is the first time she's setting foot here and, at the very least, being surrounded by fire is always comforting. She's already thrown a few packets into the flames and watched the colors change in front of her eyes. It's made her curious if it would work on her own magic and what sort of things she could do with it.
Maeve is off playing, but is within her line of sight. It makes Morr's stomach twist in knots to give her any bit of space so she hopes the girl doesn't take off in a split second. They spent some time moments ago playing with the paints and flowers, so the Regent is looking quite different than usual. On her head is a crown made of fresh orange and yellow flowers (she has no idea what they're called) and Maeve painted different designs all over her body to match. Morr hasn't tried to look at her reflection to see what the damage is, but she can feel paint all over her face. Regardless, it made her daughter happy so that was the important part.
Morr is a bit surprised at the familiar face that walks over and at first, she only raises a brow. Oddly enough, her and August almost match. "Yeah, being covered in flowers and paint really brings me to my happy place," she says, the sarcasm obvious in her tone. She knows he's referring to the fires and, although they're thousands of steps away from Denocte at this point, she supposes it does help her feel more "at home". "Apparently it's a good look for you," she adds, trying not to laugh at how ridiculous he looks.
Morrighan takes another glance at Maeve who is speaking with another boy her age. For a moment she stiffens and moves to go break them up, but she retracts. The girl is too young to be having feelings yet (she'd hope), so maybe it'd be better for her to stay here and let Maeve make some friends. There aren't many her age back home.
"I'm surprised you're walking and not covered in bruises this time. Unless that's what all the paint is for?" Naturally, she can't let him live their last encounter down. He looked like he went through hell and back, maybe even died along the way. At least now maybe he's a little more put together (and with clear loyalties again). Morr isn't sure how she feels about him, but for now he's not terrible company.
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« “Then he is a monster!" the Prince crowed, "and I must slay him at once. The Formula works!" »
"O
f course it is. Everything’s a good look for me.” He can only keep up his exaggerated swagger for a moment before his arch look broadens into a grin. She as much as anyone knows the lie of those words, having seen him the last couple times looking rather worse for wear.
He’s too observant (and curious) not to follow her gaze the second time she turns it away from him. Her interest is far too keen to be idle, and it takes him a beat, but once he realizes it he feels chagrined at not having noticed immediately. Her daughter looks so much like her.
And it explains the fact that she’d allowed herself to be painted, and the childishly loose whorls and zigzags of the designs themselves. August’s grin lingers, tucked in the corner of his mouth, when he glances back at her, trying to picture her as a mom.
He snorts at her comment, shaking his head in a way that tips the crown rakishly across his brow. “I’ve decided to retire from stupid trouble,” he says, surprised by how true it feels. For a moment he is quiet, and the fire nearest them gives a mighty pop as the flames hit a pocket of sap in one of the logs, sending up a shower of sparks. As they dissipate he watches her out of the corner of his eye, and says in a tone that is almost serious, “I didn’t know you had a daughter, Morrighan. She favors you.” Another beat, and he’s smiling again when he adds, “Looks friendlier, though.”
It's funny how time can change things, at least with certain people. Not too long ago, Morrighan found this man all broken and bruised having been gone from his Court forever. Now as he stands here joking with her, she looks at him with a raised brow. Her expression clearly shows how much she doesn't believe what he says. Although, his look today is much better than when they last met, she will agree to that. His smile isn't too bad on the eyes either.
The Regent is surprised by his statement when it seems August is always a magnet for trouble. "Oh? Have a change of heart?" she asks, curious what purpose he feels he has now. Maybe he's realized how stupid he had been for not being truly loyal to the Court and wants to make a comeback. He could try, but she would be watching him closely.
As the fire pops and crackles next to them, Morrighan notices he's followed her gaze to her daughter. Her muscles tense a little, but only because she's so protective of her and she's still not so sure about him. But to be fair, she's not really so sure of anyone around her daughter anymore. Not since they fought off a demon beast creature thing on the island.
She narrows her eyes at his comment, although he's not wrong. Maeve brings out the best in Morrighan and reminds her that she doesn't have to be so quick to judge others. It's a hard habit to break though.
"She's young, she doesn't know the real world yet," she tells him, although she can't help but think, I hope she doesn't have to. If the girl lost that spark in her eyes, it would break Morrighan's heart. Already it seemed to have happened after everything on the island, but this festival has been helping her get back to her normal self.
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« “Then he is a monster!" the Prince crowed, "and I must slay him at once. The Formula works!" »
I
n what already feels like a past life, August dealt in secrets. Never his own - anything he shared in the confines of bedroom walls was usually a lie, or innocuous enough not to matter - but the things he learned, all the fantasies and jealousies and fears, taught him long ago that you could never really know somebody without knowing what lay a couple layers beneath.
For instance, he knows exactly the things that made him the way he is, and all the fateful turning places, the fulcrum points of his life. He wonders, for the first time, what those moments might have been for the Regent.
“A change of a couple things,” he says, wryly. “It took me a while to figure out just who I am these days.” He glances at her from below his silver lashes, considering. It seems to him that being in Delumine, a festival among strangers, felt like a safe place to share things he otherwise might not. It was a little like the island, in that, but more of a dream than a nightmare. “You met me at kind of a low point.”
He doesn’t elaborate, not yet, since he still isn’t sure Morrighan actually cares. None of their previous interactions have left him with the impression that she does.
It’s easier, anyway, to shift his attention back to the girl. Curiosity is always more fun a feeling than the scathing self-reflection he’s been practicing the last few seasons. August’s expression softens when Morrighan says she doesn’t know the real world yet. As an orphan raised in a rag-tag family of orphans, he knew exactly what she meant. “Well. I hope it takes her longer to meet it than it did me.” The palomino shifts, shaking himself from the more melancholy mood, and gives the Regent a smile tinged with mischief. “Where’s dad?”
It throws her off just how much his words resonate with her. When Morrighan first arrived in Novus (or rather, was thrown here thanks to a portal), she had to figure everything out again. Back in Ourania, she had already been well established within her kingdom as a force not to be reckoned with. But here, she had nothing, not even her fire for quite a while. She had to figure out who she was and who she could be here again. Some days it even feels like she's still sorting it out and things never feel quite enough.
Her trust in the man isn't enough to confess this sort of thing, so she says nothing. Instead, she snorts at his comment of being at a low point. "Just a bit," she says, recalling how it looked like he had been trampled over one too many times. He'd be smart not to make those mistakes again.
Then there is Maeve, a girl so young that she truly hasn't seen the darker parts of the world. The island introduced her to some of it, but as much as Morr wishes that to be all of it, she knows it's not. Her daughter has yet to experience grief and heartbreak. She finds herself agreeing with August in that hopefully all that will come much later. It's important for her now to have as much time to just be a kid because pretty soon those years will be far behind. Morr isn't even sure if she's ready to see her daughter grow up.
She had been lost in her thoughts when August's question shakes her out of it. There had been a somewhat sense of calm over her until this. She tenses again and shoots August a look of disgust. "Mother," she corrects him, although it's not his inaccuracy that bothers her, it's that she doesn't like to be reminded of Maeve's other parent. "And she's gone. The wolves can have her for all I care."
Did she mean it? Probably. For Maeve's sake, maybe not. Although Morr certainly spent way more time with their daughter than Al'Zahra did, she knows that Maeve loved them both. Even when Al'Zahra abandoned Maeve on purpose and didn't even try to be discreet about it, their daughter didn't hold a grudge. She still asks about her sometimes and tries to make sense of it all. Morr tries so hard not to let Maeve's mind wander too much. It breaks her heart.
"Her name was Al'Zahra. I guess Maeve didn't mean enough to her," she mumbles, unsure if she should even be saying this much to August. But she does anyway, mostly because she will always be bitter about it and will use any chance she has to vent when Maeve is out of earshot.
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« “Then he is a monster!" the Prince crowed, "and I must slay him at once. The Formula works!" »
A
s expected, the Regent doesn’t give him any kind of signal that she understands or has felt what he’s talking about. No words of absolution, no I’ve been there too - but he’s never been one to need empathy from others. August chalks it up to her just being a tough nut to crack.
Still, it stings just a little when he offers so much for her to ask him about and she only comments again on the state he’d been in at various stages of their acquaintance. Even Minya had shown more sensitivity, when she was in the mood. Then again, he’s the fool for trying to befriend someone who’s first move was to threaten people with fire.
Alas, it did not seem like it was going to get better tonight. Not as soon as he asks that innocuous question and sees her body tighten like a bow; he’s glad it’s mostly dark because he’s sure the look she shoots him then could turn him to stone if he saw it fully.
Mother, she says, and one of his eyebrows arches. The other follows when she says the wolves can have her, though August wasn’t really surprised by Morr’s lack of marital bliss. He knew as well as anyone and better than most that love - even fondness - wasn’t necessary for…activities of conception.
It seemed safer then not to be looking directly at the Regent, and so he’s idly watching the bonfires and the other horses when the paint says her name. A lucky thing, too, because a look of surprise bordering on astonishment crosses his face too quickly to catch. He schools his expression back into polite interest in a moment, but his heartbeat sticks with a quicker pace for a little longer.
Well, there was something he never expected they’d have in common. Or someone, as it were. But he knew better than to mention that. He’d rather not be roasted over a fire along with the chestnuts.
“Some people aren’t made for staying, no matter what,” he says, and it’s not Al’Zahra and the ship he’d recommended she take on his mind, but the Scarab and all his rag-tag family there. “Even when they should have all the reasons in the world. Your daughter will be alright.”
And so will you, he doesn’t add. He doesn’t figure she much wants to hear it, and he still can’t quite manage to meet her eyes.
"Some people aren't made for staying, no matter what." Perhaps truer words haven't been spoken about Al'Zahra. Morrighan should've known better but she had been blinded by desire. It had been a beautiful flame when it was burning brightest but then once it had been snuffed out, she could see its true colors. The passion she felt maybe had been real, but not for the right reasons.
Still, if it hadn't been for her, she would not have Maeve and she's not sure what she'd be doing with herself now. Maybe burning down a forest somewhere and getting kicked out of the Court.
So when August gives her some assuring words, although it feels a bit strange coming from him, she sighs and looks at him with a softness she hasn't given him before. "Thank you," she says, although the words make her tense. She doesn't say thanks to just anyone and maybe she'll always feel a little unsure about this man.
For now, she'll leave him with that and not feeling quite as pissed at him as she usually is. Maybe he's working his way through a redemption arc after all.
"Well, I'm going to go check on her. Have a good night, August," she says with a nod and heads off to where she had seen Maeve playing last. Part of her wonders if she should've stayed and given him more of a chance to open up. She can tell he wants to earn her trust, but she also doesn't know if she wants to talk more personally with him yet. It stings any time she thinks about Al'Zahra. Maybe she's just not ready overall.
Eventually, maybe she'll give him more of a chance. For now, she is gone in the crowd to be by Maeve's side again.
@August figured we could close this up here <3 I'm looking forward to whatever their next one is now that she's Sovereign! (and hopefully she can be a little less stubborn with him haha)
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« “Then he is a monster!" the Prince crowed, "and I must slay him at once. The Formula works!" »
S
he surprises him again (it’s becoming something of a trend, tonight) with her gratitude. He’d expected more flint, especially after the vehemence with which she’d mentioned Al’Zahra - oh, but he knew the sound of someone wounded by someone they cared about. The bonfire light catches in her eyes and her expression is almost…soft.
Well, he absolutely wouldn’t be mentioning that (or, more particularly, how) he knew her former mate. August had spent a lifetime keeping secrets, but he still wonders how this one is going to sit.
Her uncharacteristic mildness continues when she says goodbye, but this time he doesn’t so much as raise a brow. Maybe there was a side to More he hasn’t experienced yet. Al’Zahra must have seen it, anyway, to get close enough to be anything but burned.
“You too, Regent,” he says, and watches the firelight flicker along her as she goes to her daughter, and the two fade into the crowd like a couple of sparks in a fire.
