@Asterion <333 sorry so long i'M EXCITED
Time makes fools of us all
Private - Where the river changes course
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@Asterion <333 sorry so long i'M EXCITED  in sunshine and in shadow Oh, Asterion has changed – he is different without and different within. The exterior parts are more temporary; he is still colored with paint, whorled and dotted and marked with twilight. Last night it had felt right, but as he walks alone through the courtyard he feels a little silly, like a tapestry come alive, a piece of a moment not meant to carry on. Some things are better beneath starlight. The things inside of him, though. That’s where the ground has shifted the most, and a little of it comes through in the weight of his gaze. He understands more today than he did last week, or yesterday morning, and the knowledge is burdensome, not so much an anchor as a yoke. Even so there is first surprise and then an easy kind of happiness when his dark-eyed gaze finds Eik. The gray stallion stops but the bay closes the space up between them, near enough to share breath, hazy in the afternoon where the aftermath of bonfires still drifts around them. “Hello Eik,” he answers, and his smile is the firmest part of him. Otherwise he feels a little like that day-old smoke: smudged and drifting. And then a breeze stirs, carrying a scent that hints at spring, a taste like the color of the true-blue sky. Around them his countrymen shake off the lingering effects of the previous night, and Asterion is not like the smoke at all. He is home. At Eik’s question he can only laugh, though there’s little humor of it, and think of his conversation with Florentine. “Not yet,” he answers. It is a little strange (though there is no reason it should be) to stand with the gray with stone and not sand beneath their hooves, but Asterion closes his eyes for a moment and scents the sea, the salt and brine of it carried with Eik. When he opens them again, yet again he feels more like a man and less like a shade. Just how see-through had he been, before he was found and grounded by his friend?“Welcome to Terrastella,” he says, and though the word still feels strange on his tongue the syllables roll smooth. It is an easy name to say. “Though I hope you were made welcome enough last night. Did you happen on that honey mead?” He pulls a grimace at the memory, the blurry ache that followed, a feeling altogether new to him. But it was a better hurt by far than what Florentine had suffered (or, for that matter, Lysander), and his expression sobers quickly. “I’m glad to see you,” he says then, and though his voice is bathed in sunlight his eyes are the same as they were by the sea. @ @Asterion lol "ok"?! tis perfect :) excuse me while I floop all over the place Time makes fools of us all
in sunshine and in shadow Asterion has learned, since leaving his first home long ago, that there is always a storm to come. So many he had met told him there was something building, building on the horizon, even when the bay felt like he was living in halcyon days. Never has he been able to see the shadow of it, felt the weight of it pressing in on him, invisible but no less real. Even now, when he knows there are painful things to come, he feels no dread. Perhaps because he is adrift no longer. Asterion is no longer a lone boat on the sea – he has found harbor, and he will weather what comes. Oh, but Asterion is still terribly naïve, no different a dreamer than he was before he woke this morning. He laughs and ducks his head at the mention of the mead, and his smile, this time, lingers. “I’m glad I’m not the only one.” He is surprised by how glad Eik’s question makes him; he is proud, he finds, at the thought of beings sought by this man, of counting him a friend. “It would be my honor,” he says, then twists his lips at how stilted and silly such language sounded, coming from himself. He follows the gray’s gaze as it travels the battlements, the keep, the smooth cool stone. “You’ll have to forgive my occasional ignorance, though. This place hasn’t come naturally.” It does not feel shameful to admit it; it feels like not needing to pretend. That makes it a little easier, when Eik’s gaze finds his own again, though his expression still turns just a touch wry. “Well,” he says, both an answer and a beginning, and then he draws in a breath. “Florentine has made me her Regent – just a few hours ago. But I’m afraid I’m unprepared for such responsibility. There’s so much I don’t understand.” The bay had looked away during the most of the telling, but now he glances back, prepared for the surprise Eik surely would wear. Maybe it had been too soon to tell anyone – particularly outside the court – but no part of Asterion wanted to lie, even by omission. “Follow me,” he says then, and his hooves make ringing sounds on the stone as Terrastellans take down the remnants of the festival around them. “And tell me how you’ve been.” @ @Asterion <3<3 lol nooooo never!! Time makes fools of us all
in sunshine and in shadow In this, too, they are similar: before this place (and, in all honesty, here as well) the idea of positions was foreign to him. There were the gods, and there were the places their followers gathered, and there were the wanderers like himself. Maybe there was no order to it; maybe they were feral savages. But there had been no bloodshed over something so arbitrary as a word. A smile lifts the corner of his own mouth at Eik’s reply, and he dips his chin, though the look he wears is just short of wry. “Thank you,” he says, “and I trust her.” The bay’s expression turns more considering at EIk’s next words, and an ear twists at the mention of whispers - he has grown more cynical since a few hours ago. Learning of Reichenbach’s actions had shifted the ground beneath him, and now he wishes he could test each step before taking it. Still he lets his smile grow, even as his gaze moves to the castle, where he images she waits at Lysander’s side. Hopefully the man would wake. Hopefully there would not be war, another word foreign to him, one that should perhaps weigh heavier on his mind, on his heart. “I’ve never met anyone like her,” he begins, turning back to his companion. “She is…bright and bold and soft and kind. She always has something to say, but is never cruel. She seems sometimes young and sometimes old and I worry for her—” he stops himself, remembering all the talking he’d done to Reichenbach, there in the dark hallways of the sleeping court only weeks before. Oh, Asterion has always trusted so easily before, has never thought it wrong. “But I don’t think I need to,” he finishes, and says nothing else. Nothing of the knife, or of her tales of time-travel and returning from death, or of the fact that they share a father. He will if asked – this he promises himself. Eik is his friend, not a stranger from a foreign court. They are two figures on a beach, lonely and not alone, searching and finding. They walk, and the sunshine patterns them with dapples and melts the snow off the gables with the soft sounds of spring. The court is stirring; other horses wind around them, sparing them no glance save, perhaps, to see the paint that still colors Asterion in whorls and lines and dots. When Eik speaks, the bay’s gaze is soft on him , though it sharpens with interest at the words. He loves stories as much as his sister does; he sighs happily at the thought of them. “I would like to hear more about those adventures,” he says, and then cocks his head before adding “or experience them myself.” Too long has he kept to the borders of Terrastella, struggling to understand black ink in dim rooms. Asterion hears the note of discomfort in the gray’s next words – or perhaps he did not hear it at all, only identified with it, associated it with his own feelings that milled like midnight shadows. When Eik closes his eyes, the bay looks away, still wearing a slight smile. It fades at the next words. He cannot remember if they ever touched that day alongside the sea, but now he bumps his shoulder against the gray’s, a brief press that said nothing except that he was seen. “It isn’t,” Asterion says, even as thoughts of the black unicorn, of his twin, of the gods he had met and known and still not followed, chase one another across his mind. “Or if it is, then I am a traitor too.” There is something just shy of a laugh in his words. He does laugh at Eik’s next words, casting another glance at the world around them. So many sounds, so much color, a riot of senses. “Yes,” he answers, “but I don’t think this is my favorite part.” Even as he says it the thought of last night comes rising to his mind – of Aislinn, waiting for him, magnificent beneath the starlight. Perhaps he is wrong; he would not be sorry for it. “I would like to return the visit, some day. I wish it could be today.” Of course it could not; not with his newly appointed title, not with bloodstains still on white snow just outside the city, not with Isorath fled south. This is what it was, then, to belong: to be less free. @ There is love in his friend's voice as he speaks of Florentine. It is not the hungry love of a new lover, nor the tired love of an old one. It is deep and wise, even in its uncertainties. It floats on down the river and even when the current knocks it over, love turns upright again, always keeps its face to the sun. In his captivation Eik feels the way he has not felt in many years. It brings him back to the great oak tree, curled up on the ground as Mor told the children, in that deep and ancient voice as though it was the tree that spoke through her, told the children the stories that blew all the doors in Eik wide open, stretched his mind as easy as blinking her eyes. He always had the feeling she was speaking to him and him alone; perhaps that was a gift of her that made her such a great storyteller. Or perhaps she was knowingly planting seeds in him, pushing him down the river, letting him let go. Like Mor, Asterion has the skill that rouses in Eik two more questions for every answer he gets. Shamelessly greedy, Eik leans in, captivated, pushing away thoughts of war and the day Mor's blood seeped into the earth. (how dark it was! The darkest blood he's ever seen, dark and heavy with knowing. What else died with her, he often wonders) "and I worry for her- but I don't think I need to." Eik nods gently, thoughtfully musing over the twilight queen's description. He asks no more questions. It is nice to have a little mystery, sometimes, and honestly he assumes that they will meet at some point. He has yet to realize that people die suddenly, violently here, too. Everything here is still safe and clean and superficial. Soon enough he will see the people's capacity for bloodshed, but not yet. For now he can think and rethink Asterion's words and enjoy the company of a friend- and together they can search for whatever it is they're looking for. Whatever shapeless nameless things their hearts crave. Together they are very old children. And like a child he is strangely not aware of time passing. Time, the great inescapable force in his life, is simply discarded for the moment. "It is a lot of silence and solitude," Eik admits, thinking of all the time he's spent wandering. His lifestyle is far more boring than Asterion would believe, and yet... how to describe the way he feels, sometimes, completely alone- and yet not at all. Not with the sky above and the ground below and the singing of the wind, and the scramble of lizard feet or the flutter of the sparrow's wings. He does not know if it is worth the effort to try to explain the feeling he gets sometimes... Anyway it must different, for those who are really alive at all times. How to describe to them what it is like to be living in a dream all your life, only to be struck randomly with a surge of life- life! Electric, musical. To be always separate from the world- and then suddenly thrust into it, achingly aware of the synchronicity to which everything pulses, the beautiful crystalline harmony of it all- and then, always, to have it all wrenched away again. That is the feeling he's always after, that feeling emphasized by grand, open spaces and solitude. The beautiful things he sees and the characters he meets along the way are just pleasant bi-products. And they do make nice stories. He shakes the dreams from his head gently, turning thoughtfully to his friend. "The adventure is more boring and ugly than the stories... But better." What else is there to say? "Certainly travel is part of your responsibility now? Visiting other courts and... doing other things outside?" As he hears himself speak he can't help but grin suddenly at how coltish he sounds. Oh he is generally well spoken (the less you speak the easier it is) but sometimes his words come out in an ungraceful tumble. Things take a serious turn as Eik escapes into his guilt. A bump then, shoulder to shoulder, draws him back. The gesture, and the words that follow, mean everything to Eik. It is a rare sensation for him, to not feel alone. He offers a small, grateful smile to the bay. A silent thank you, and that is all. Around them the court is alive with soft conversation and laughter and color. "But I don't think this is my favorite part," Asterion says."Oh?" Curiosity. "What would your favorite part be?" Talk turns again to the future, and Eik only gives a shruglike bob of his head. "I will see you there some day." He knows this is true, or perhaps he just believes it. "I would advise against a summertime visit." @Asterion and one for you <3 Time makes fools of us all
in sunshine and in shadow If his friend had given voice to those questions, Asterion would not have minded. To talk was to unspool his own thoughts like silver yarn, which in his mind tangled and knotted, impossible to unwork. In his mind he has no answers, only uncertainties that bob on the dark water of his subconscious, surfacing and going under. Talk of adventure has always been a balm to that, and now is no different. It makes no matter that Eik speaks of silence and solitude; the bay’s dark gaze sharpens with interest all the same. He has never thought, before, to call his own wanderings adventures - but they were made up of the same stuff. In his mind (treacherous thing, he is finding, with its tides and little whirlpools) he had ever only been looking. What is the difference, then, between that and adventure, if the components are the same? It makes him smile, even without an answer. It’s a smile than lingers even as Eik continues, even as Asterion dips his muzzle at boring and ugly. Especially ugly. Oh, that is a lesson he has learned as well – not all adventures were grand, good things. He can only shrug at Eik’s next question, the description making him want to laugh for how well it echoes his own understanding. “I am not sure. We hadn’t made it that far yet.” There is a pause, then, as he considers how much he should say, how much he should keep behind his teeth. But Eik is his friend, and there may be rumors, and finally Asterion continues. “This morning, Florentine demoted Isorath and appointed me instead. There were…some incidents last night, between them and the Night King. Isorath has fled Terrastella. I don’t know what will come of it, but I do not anticipate travel for a while.” A long sigh, like he could let it go as easily as breath. Again the conversation shifts, a current that carries them both. “There are cliffs, not too far from here,” he answers, and a dark ear twists that direction, as though in his mind he is already walking there. But his gaze flicks back to Eik’s, and his mouth wears a grin, if a grin could be called sheepish. “They overlook the sea.” To that, he is sure, no more need be said; not when the tide sighs between them like a secret or handshake. And then Asterion nods in kind at his friend’s words, both in certainty (now that he is certain of his place in Dusk, it is easier to be more sure of other things) and in acknowledgement of the stallion’s wry advice. “I’ve a feeling that will be on us too soon.” Never mind that spring is only just stirring, raising dandelions from bare earth, brushing fingers through their hair that carry the scent of the sea. Summer, like winter, comes on quick, and stays long enough to make you yearn for other things. @ Eik cocks his head in confused surprised at Asterion's description of the events of last night. It all seems so... messy. Undignified. He's always been a straightforward man, calmly solving problems with his fists- it is so much easier that way. He does not envy his friend at this moment, and he wishes there was something he could say to help, some words of wisdom or chummish joke, but these are not the sort of things he knows how to say, so he simply muses aloud- "Things are so complicated sometimes, when they could easily be simple." It becomes impossible not to notice how the shadows grow long. At this point most would probably be wanting to sleep off last night's festivities in the cozy Terrastellan guest quarters. He is, predictably, not like most. There are less distractions (wayward travelers to guide, intriguing rock structures to explore in the distance, etc) at night, and he travels fastest with the moon as his guide. Still, he lingers even as his heart prepares to return to the desert. He wants to savor the last few minutes here with the colorful bay. There is a sense that everything is changing, everything will change by the next time they see each other. But then again- isn't it always? And then as if in defiance of this thought- Asterion speaks of the cliffs that face the sea, and with a smile we remember: there are some things that never change. The new regent must feel it too, the fork in the river ahead. They are the same in that way. Eik suddenly embraces his friend, wrapping his neck over Asterion's and lipping fondly at the base of the stallion's mane. It is the most affection he's shown in what feels like a lifetime, yet there is (surprisingly) nothing awkward about it. "It is time." A sigh. How cherished this moment is! It will keep Eik afloat in the months to come, at least until the streets of Solterra run red and the funeral pyres burn for three days. But even after that, in the very dark times that follow, it will steady him to know he has a friend out there, somewhere far away from the violence and brutality of the day court. "I will see you soon," Eik says, solidly, and while they are in the stone courtyard they are also at the beach watching the waves, and all their futures stand before them with great promise and mystery and adventure. @Asterion no worries <3 ah I was thinking the exact same, so much has happened since we started this! I enjoyed this thread so much, these two make me happy :') Time makes fools of us all
in sunshine and in shadow There is a part of him that wants to ask his friend to stay, a part of him greedy for more time, for more of the steadying presence of the grey. But both of them are needed, he knows, and Asterion buries his selfishness down with his uncertainty and his doubt and his strange breed of loneliness. He is surprised, at first, by the sudden embrace Eik gives him; it is such an unexpected gift. But before the other pulls away Asterion presses his cheek to the smooth plane of his shoulder, breathes a warm breath against the winter-long coat that still smells of woodsmoke. He wonders if this is what it is like to have a brother, or a father, or the kind of friend that lasts. “Yes,” he answers when Eik steps away, as though the time of their next meeting is already decided. Oh, how fiercely glad he is of this friendship, how grateful. Maybe it is strange (maybe he is wrong), but it feels as steady as anything he has. “Travel well,” he tells the pale man, “and may you find shade when you need it.” He watches his friend go until he can see him no more, and the sun echoes the warmth of Eik’s embrace. And then, at last, he turns back toward the palace, wide doors yawning wide and dark as a mouth, and goes to learn what help he might give this home of his. @ |
