He could not place how this gathering made him feel - there was a great deal to process, a great many faces that were all strange to him.
Of course, courtly gatherings were nothing knew; he’d grown up attending them, needing to learn from his father how to be a lord. Those meetings of policy or planning were always bearable enough. Occasionally they were dull, and the unicorn had no great interest in leadership, but it was far better than being on the sparring field. Nobody could beat him, at least.
Hearing his name from the sovereign’s lips brought Charlemagne’s gaze back, and he forced himself to hold steady his gaze, only shifting his green eyes away to glance at Nimue. The mare was very pretty, but seemed less than interested in the unicorn colt; certainly, she barely acknowledged him at all. It was not an encouraging welcome.
The thought was only reinforced when the mare in question spoke and then dismissed herself, not even sending a glance Charlemagne’s way. He was, quite frankly, taken aback, and watched her go with surprise rounding his leaf-green eyes. He couldn’t help but huff a breath, tossing his golden-horned head, and might have left himself, had not another stranger stepped forward to address the king.
Here was a man quite self-assured. The chestnut listened with interest, eyeing the bold stallion as he turned and swept his gaze across them all. He did not seem to be terribly impressed, and spoke highly of his own knowledge. Charlemagne flicked an ear, caught between curiosity and surprise. Surely none in his home country would speak so boldly to their sovereign, lest they be challenged to a trial of combat.
But this was not the home he knew.
That was the main takeaway, as Charlemagne excused himself from the gathering that had not done terribly much to settle his reservations about his new home. Indeed, he almost felt…disappointed. It was a bitter change from the hopefulness that had led him to run away and seek to join the Delumine sages.
There were so many people to see and look at surrounding him, all of them seeming to be talking at once and vying for Kasil—the Sovereign’s—attention. Normally such a thing wouldn’t have bothered Ipomoea; he thrived in such environments where things and people were constantly changing and moving, a puzzle he fit so neatly into the center of. But as it was, he found himself drowning out the hustle and bustle to zero in on the lord’s figure instead, so much so that Pan’s words almost fell upon deaf ears. Lost in himself, he simply nodded in reply, finding himself at a startling loss for words.
The dark stallion bobbed in and out amongst the crowd, Po taken aback simply by how regal he looked—so much different now that he had a mass to please than when he did when they met alone behind the citadel. But it seemed as natural now as his laid-back demeanor had then, and the boy couldn’t help but admire him all the more for it. Anticipation filled his being as his Sovereign made his way closer, allowing himself to imagine that it was to him that he headed, that amongst these strangers it was Po who stood out. Which of course, only led to a bit of disappointment and jealousy when he was given two words of welcome. Those two words reverberated in his mind, not lost on him that he was at least remembered and recognized—if not as important as he had hoped for moments ago. He dipped his head in greeting, still fumbling for words as the bay stallion moves on. He addresses the rest of the gathering, and Ipomoea finds himself hanging upon every word, drinking it in. And when he finishes he rushes forward, as if to volunteer (for what he isn’t even sure), but he is again beaten.
First by the rose-colored mare, then by his new friend Pan, and then the sea of people seem to fall upon their Sovereign again, their voices scratching at Po’s ears and drowning out his own voice. He is pushed back by them, his still lanky form forgotten upon the more mature horses. But he allows them to go, likewise allowing himself to fade back into the outskirts where he can continue to observe, not yet willing to leave but also not fighting to be heard. He’s sure what they have to say is also important—even if all of their words seem brusque and biting, shocking him by their audacity. It seemed a foreign thought that they wouldn’t fawn at their leader’s feet, but rather demand he do something for them. It’s politics that he’s never seen before, but it intrigues him as much as shocks him.
But he can’t join it yet. Instead he takes the time to gather his thoughts, pulling himself out of his daydreams of glory and crowds falling in admiration and loyalty at his own hooves long enough to figure out what it is he wants from the Sovereign besides his attention.
There were voices that expressed interest, and some of the crowd began to disperse. Nimue, in particular -- he noticed did not stick around for long after her request for his audience. He could appreciate that, and he wondered for a moment if she were off to those libraries to prepare to meet him. The sages would have a plethora of ranks to choose from, unwittingly favored for their skills and knowledge. Kasil had been a sage before his ascension to first the Emissary rank, then to Sovereign. He was a bit disappointed in her lack of enthusiasm to see the young Charlemagne taken under her tutelage -- but it would be something he discussed with her in private.
The Dawn King let his gaze slide back to Po for a moment, as Pan accepted his decree that the boy should seek out the world and his own path. He touched the silver-touched child, letting his muzzle rest against his shoulder for the briefest of moments for he could sense a pain that had not been there before. ”Pan?” He murmured softly. ”My suggestion is only that...a suggestion. I would never ask you to take a role you didn’t want.” It was the only advice that he had for the silver, scaled youth -- but it was solid. Now was the time, because soon enough he would be expected to choose his path and it would be difficult to change it. He felt a strong fatherly sense towards the youth, and hoped that he did not seem too insistent. He let his touch fade away, moving on to seek out the the next he wished to speak with.
He wanted to speak to the cherry colored stallion, to express an interest in Po’s future with the Dawn Court, when another stepped into his path. The wraith like figure was ruddy in color, splashes of white tossed onto his body with minimal impact. A pair of horns sprouted atop his head and curled around his ears, and he spoke -- the thin wisp who had stepped into his path. Perhaps the stallion had not meant to cause offense by interrupting his stride, but Kasil could not be sure -- drawing himself up to stand correctly. He could not stop the way that his ears flickered backwards, the only indication of his mild annoyance. He let one of them flick forward again, listening to the deep voice that did not seem to belong to one who appeared younger.
”Just Kasil.” He murmured, correcting him -- but not harshly. ”I do not expect my own people to address me so formally.” He let a little smile play on to his lips, finding it frozen there as the stallion continued to speak. About midway through, it appeared that his face had thawed and his lips pressed into a more firm and thoughtful line. His chocolate gaze traveled the length of this newcomer, this Kaladin of whom he had never seen before -- save for this moment. One who had shown up late, and had so boldly stepped into his path. The king’s face betrayed nothing as he heard out this stranger’s argument, giving a great pause as he considered the words. He was not a hasty man in any regard, which was why his ranks remained unfilled. When he opened his mouth again, his tone was cooler and far more removed than anyone had ever heard it in this court. It was always so when he made judgements and decisions, and by no means the fault of this eager stallion.
”Kaladin.” He said slowly, drawing the power of his position behind the name. ”I appreciate the boldness that you have. It is an excellent quality to possess to be so confident in oneself.” He let a tight smile find it’s way back to his lips, before it fell away like an autumn leaf tumbling to the ground. ”However, I must decline your...generous offer to act as my Emissary.” The Sovereign gave a roll of his shoulders, the wings restless against his sides. They itched with the need for flight, the crippling anxiety that he felt crawling across the surface of his skin unsettling. ”Your efficacy means nothing to me, if I...and Oriens do not have your loyalty. You see, your intended result could be so very different from the divine purpose of the Gods. I need to know that your end game is in line with my own, with Oriens.” He gave the stallion a hard stare, not quite convinced that it was.
He lifted his chin, the gold headpiece glinting in the light. ”And of another note, the Emissary position is typically held by a Sage. As a Caretaker, you are tasked with the healing of the people -- not knowledge. Granted, it is not to say that a Caretaker can not hold the role...but you would be hard pressed to sway the court that someone meant to heal would be knowledgable enough. You have a hard task ahead, if that is what you endeavor to take on.” He murmured. ”Good day to you, Kaladin.” He said, as the underside of his belly began to twitch. He moved then, his pace resuming as he brushed by the bold stag; his wings scraping him from the proximity of their bodies.
His smile was a bit unsteady as he went towards his original target, the boy with the flowered crown and winged feet. ”Po, I am so glad that you could make it.” The Sovereign said. ”It is nice to see familiar faces, I had no idea that there were so many of us now.” He said, his expression returning to the jovial and friendly king that he was more familiar with. Inside, his intestines twisted with anxiety -- invisible ivy vines beginning to crawl over his skin so that they could choke him. He didn’t have time for them now, but later...oh later he would imagine the way that they would spread to his mouth and nose -- covering him until he was nothing left.
ooc: sorry for the delay on this! @Pan @Ipomoea @Martin @Nimue @Charlemagne @Kaladin
The tension that arrived with Kaladin was palpable, and Pan looked awkwardly from one equine to another, waiting to see what would happen. It didn’t take long for Kasil to address the newest arrival, and as he spoke, Pan knew the words were tinged with an authoritative tone. Kasil knew what was best, he figured, but there was still an edge in the air that made the boy feel uncomfortable. Stepping forward to try and soothe the situation, he cleared his throat to change the subject. ”I think maybe I’d like to be a caretaker… I haven’t ever done it before, really… but I like to help people. Maybe you can teach me?”
He grinned at Kaladin, eager at the prospect of learning from someone more experienced than himself. The idea of being a healer was one that spoke to his want for peace and healing. After all, had he known how to heal the broken, maybe the war would have gone a bit better. Had he been able to save his friend, maybe things would have stayed the same. If Tarquin wouldn’t have died, maybe Rook wouldn’t have gone… and maybe his life would still be the same – peaceful by the shores of his Neverland, oblivious to the wars of the world.
Memories drew a sigh from his lips as he looked toward the south, then back at the others. ”Flora told me about a great healer in the Dusk Court… I think her name was Yana. I was gonna go meet her, if you want to come with me? I guess she lives in the swamp.” Thinking of the swamp drew to mind thoughts of alligators and fireflies, and he remembered the place well – for this was the land where he’d first met Rannveig, when he slept among the cattails and dreamed of faraway wonders.
Stepping a few paces away from the gathering, he turned back to see if Kaladin was following. ”Don’t worry Kasil – we’ll tell them to come visit, and that the Dawn Court is the best.” Grinning boyishly to the rest of them, he nodded once, and began the long journey toward the Dusk Court swamp, and his path toward healing. And any who wanted to come were more than welcome to join.
He watched the interaction between Kasil and the self-identified Kaladin with interest, speckled ears swinging forward to catch the subdued tones. He had never had much experience with politics or public imaging, being raised on the streets without parents. Yet he admired the grace with which Kasil spoke, the easiness by which he denied the painted pegasus and move on before he could offer a retort. And of course there was Pan, a now familiar and welcomed face, stepping in swiftly after.
Talk of the Dusk Court prompted Po’s ears to swivel forward again, his home for quite some time evoking fondness within him. He hadn’t heard of this Yana they spoke of, but he certainly did not doubt the rumor—Terrastella was full of doctors and physicians, as he had seen himself in his time spent there. It heartened him to hear good things said about the neighboring Court, as well as the easy way with which citizens were allowed to come and go as they pleased from Delumine, to travel and learn and explore before returning home. From what he had heard, only the northwestern Court encouraged such things, and it made him glad to be a part and watch it happen.
Kasil started his way again, but this time there were no butterflies immediately zooming about his belly, for he’d learned from the last instance. And so it took him by surprise when, instead of changing course to greet someone else, Kasil kept his eyes trained on him, on Ipomoea. He wasn’t sure if he imagined the way his voice changed and his expression softened, a figment of hopeful imagination, but he didn’t care to stop and analyze it right at this moment. As it was, a shy smile mirrored the Sovereign’s, a slight incline of his head in respect. “I’m glad I could make it,” he responded sincerely, resisting the urge to add ‘Your Grace’ along at the end in light of his response to Kaladin. Nerves bundled into a knot in his throat, but Po was determined to choke it down, to not create a fool of himself. “I’m sure there’s more? Maybe they’re traveling or studying or helping someone…” He paused, his eyes cast over the slowly departing crowd now, ensuring there were no more stragglers who remained that sought the King’s attention.
“Maybe the next meeting will be even bigger, as people realize how great the King is that rules,” he spoke softly, but his words weighed heavy with his own belief in them. A bit of color flashed into his cheeks, but he turned away to hide it. “Are you needed elsewhere now?" he asked, studying the flowers dotting the edge of the meeting area in feigned interest, waiting for the heat in his cheeks to reduce. He was ready for Kasil's answer to be yes, for him to end the meeting and disappear in light of some ultra-important business that Sovereigns must oversee--but he couldn't help but hope he would stay a minute longer.
They were mortal, and they would never understand.
Even as he looked around, into the pits of the cold, dumb, oh-so short-lived eyes, he could see understand the mistake he had made. The friends he'd made during his journeys had ensorcelled him, trapped him in a web of some blissful high that he'd thought to have found his footing on. In truth, it had been a false sense of security - now the ninth cloud dissipated, and he felt himself falling, tumbling, losing his grip. Fallen from grace.
But he had been a god. He had mastered the truths of mundanity, gleamed insight into the violent and selfish acts of mankind. But his inexperience in terrestrial existence had given him the naivety of a newborn - one that had thrust him into the melee of politics and relationship of the mortal world. And now he would pay the price; he would be shamed before them all.
No. He had been a god. He would not be lowered and stepped upon when his deserved gilt pedestal was just out of reach. He would have vengeance one day - until then, he could not allow the feelings of betrayal and shame to burst their way past his tongue and teeth - no matter how much he wanted to. He raised his chin, allowing the emotions he kept at bay to sharpen his gaze as if it were a sword, and they were a whetstone.
It was this cold and calculating gaze he faced Kasil with. "Very well, then. It would seem you are more foolish then I initially suspected." his voice caught in his throat. His legs were shaking - but he would not cave, not now. "If you cannot recognize wisdom and loyalty without it being put into words and laid at your feet, then I am not sure if you can see past your own nose." He flicked his tail, hoping the movement would mask the nervous twinge of his hooves. "Nevertheless, this is my home, and I will continue to serve my Court - but it does not mean I must serve you."
He should end it there, he thought. His words were brazen but honest, and honesty was a virtue, no matter how deceitful. But, it would seem his youthful mind had ran ahead of his centurian thoughts. "You may regret this, one day." He walked away, then, small hooves soft upon the grass and tail held high in a feigned pride.
He would have liked to storm off, to take his leave to bury his nose in books on herbs and spellbinding. But such was not his luck; his path was blocked by as dainty creature painted with pearl and laden with mint-tinted scales. Kaladin aimed his dagger-like gaze at the stranger, mind too tangled up in emotions to control the temper that boiled within him like a gathering storm. Still, the boy's words caught him unawares - they were kind and curious, not judgmental as he had expected. Adding insult to injury, the speech was graced by a disarming grin - one Kaladin could only wish he was capable of.
His fury came out in a grumbling sigh, as if his body was attempting to expel the building tension. He glanced the smaller newcomer up and down, then cocked his head. Teach him? Me? What is this, preschool? Yet,
the idea was flattering somehow - it was a step towards his coveted pedestal. And what was a teacher but a god to his student? The thought gave him purpose, a purpose beyond wallowing in self-pity in his quarters and filling his nose with the smell of medicinal herbs as he sought the cure for his mortality.
"Very well." He muttered. "I could teach you a bit - but do not expect it to be easy." The next words piqued his interest, and he found himself seeking through his memories - sifting through eons to find the recent events that had cursed him. In these thoughts he found her - the star-laden woman, wading through the swamp with golden coins in her grasp. Interest crept into his eyes. "I believe I know of whom you speak. I would like to find her as well - perhaps this could be a useful endeavor to us both."
The boy took off, just like that, an eager bounce in his step hinting at youthful energy - true youth, not the false banner that Kaladin had been forced to wear. When the youth looked back, Kaladin could not help but roll his eyes. "Yes, because everyone wants to come visit thundering idiots like you and me." But the words were amicable - his previous vengeful rage swept away by the younger child's infectious smile.
It was very tempting to respond to the thinly veiled threat posed to him by the spurned healer. Perhaps if he had been a weaker man, he might have thrown down a gauntlet at Kaladin’s feet. But he would not be swayed from his typically temperate nature in order to maintain his pride. He had other obligations, and other responsibilities rather than responding to a petty and most likely empty threat. Besides, he had no interest in garnering more enemies -- although Kaladin would certainly be on that list of those he would not trust. To be so angry at such a gentle refusal, well...that was not the kind of stallion he would have at his right hand anyway.
”Hardly am I seeking the words of another, Kaladin. Lest you forget, you just laid words at my feet -- I’ve yet to see any real action on your behalf.” The words rumbling from his throat. There was no malice or apology in the words, Kasil would not take back what he said -- nor would he be drawn into an argument. He had made his stand, and Kaladin would live by it or face consequences yet undecided.
Letting Pan redirect the attention, Kasil hardly gave the flick of an ear in the healer’s direction as he spat his venomous words. Instead, he kept the same moderate smile upon his lips and kept his attention on what was at hand -- which happened to be Po. The dark stallion raised his brows at his question, taking a pause to consider it. ”Most likely. But I would be pleased to keep your company until then. Shall we walk?” He asked, not really giving him much of a choice. He began to leave the space, expecting the younger stallion to join him. There would be things to discuss, but not here...close to ears that he could not be certain of their loyalty.
THIS THREAD IS NOW CLOSED. NO FURTHER REPLIES PLEASE!
STAFF EDIT*** @kasil / @distant has redeemed signos for completing this thread and 1st time with Roo, Peep, Griffin, Sid, and Flight.
@Ipomoea / @sid has redeemed signos for completing this thread and 1st time with Roo, Peep, Griffin, Firefly, and Flight.
Thread is now locked and archived.
09-28-2017, 10:41 PM - This post was last modified: 09-30-2017, 01:52 AM by inkbone
