The flowery Regent had not left his station for most of the festival—people were constantly stopping by, for both their first crowns and to replace the old ones. It kept him busy enough that he had recruited a couple of foals looking for a few signos to pick fresh flowers for him. Of course, their eyes weren’t quite as practiced as his own, and some of the flowers they brought him were unusable, but Po appreciated their effort and willingness nonetheless.
And being stuck at the booth meant Po got to see every body who went by. Plus he wasn’t too far from the stage, so he could still get peeks at the presentations, and listen to the songs and poetry. He found his eyes constantly looking for each new face that stepped up, anxious to not miss the pale, freckled Messalina’s dance that she had invited him to watch.
Of course, all of the presentations were important, and a joy to watch… but her’s was one Ipomoea was not willing to miss.
It was during one such moment when his head was turned and the foals were off picking more flowers that a voice caught his attention, one he could only describe as sunny and warm. And when he turned to meet her golden gaze, she looked exactly as she sounded: corn yellow hair falling into a bright, freckled face.
“But of course!” The enthusiasm in his voice was far from faked; it took the artful boy only a moment to pick the brightest of geraniums from his selection. “Which colors do you fancy most?” Personally he thought the whites and oranges would compliment her the best—but he’d leave that up to her.
“Thank you,” he imbued every last bit of sincerity and gratitude he had into the simple statement. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Eulalie.”
It never even struck him as odd that a warrior could be so lighthearted. To Ipomoea, flowers weren’t just for girls who wore dresses and hosted tea parties—they were for everyone, from the modest to the rough-and-tumbles.
“I know what you mean,” he admitted a bit shyly, his telekinesis weaving the flower stems through her hair. “I used to be away in other Courts more often than not. I thought it’d be easier to meet everyone here, where we’re all family…” His voice trailed off, his tone thoughtful. He was so much more self conscious here, constantly finding himself second guessing each word and action. It was ironic, in a way; shouldn’t it be easier to convince his own Court to love him than three foreign Courts? And still, it seemed more important in a way to have his fellow citizens see only his best side; desperate for them to love him as much as he loved them.
“How long have you been in Delumine for?” A quick switch of the topic to clear his mind always worked. His curiosity was getting the better of him once more. When he was Emissary, his entire job was to travel and meet new people. Now that he was needed at home more often than not…
Well. He would just have to live vivaciously through the stories of others, he supposed.
@Eulalie sorry for the wait! <3
"talk." text.
And being stuck at the booth meant Po got to see every body who went by. Plus he wasn’t too far from the stage, so he could still get peeks at the presentations, and listen to the songs and poetry. He found his eyes constantly looking for each new face that stepped up, anxious to not miss the pale, freckled Messalina’s dance that she had invited him to watch.
Of course, all of the presentations were important, and a joy to watch… but her’s was one Ipomoea was not willing to miss.
It was during one such moment when his head was turned and the foals were off picking more flowers that a voice caught his attention, one he could only describe as sunny and warm. And when he turned to meet her golden gaze, she looked exactly as she sounded: corn yellow hair falling into a bright, freckled face.
“But of course!” The enthusiasm in his voice was far from faked; it took the artful boy only a moment to pick the brightest of geraniums from his selection. “Which colors do you fancy most?” Personally he thought the whites and oranges would compliment her the best—but he’d leave that up to her.
“Thank you,” he imbued every last bit of sincerity and gratitude he had into the simple statement. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Eulalie.”
It never even struck him as odd that a warrior could be so lighthearted. To Ipomoea, flowers weren’t just for girls who wore dresses and hosted tea parties—they were for everyone, from the modest to the rough-and-tumbles.
“I know what you mean,” he admitted a bit shyly, his telekinesis weaving the flower stems through her hair. “I used to be away in other Courts more often than not. I thought it’d be easier to meet everyone here, where we’re all family…” His voice trailed off, his tone thoughtful. He was so much more self conscious here, constantly finding himself second guessing each word and action. It was ironic, in a way; shouldn’t it be easier to convince his own Court to love him than three foreign Courts? And still, it seemed more important in a way to have his fellow citizens see only his best side; desperate for them to love him as much as he loved them.
“How long have you been in Delumine for?” A quick switch of the topic to clear his mind always worked. His curiosity was getting the better of him once more. When he was Emissary, his entire job was to travel and meet new people. Now that he was needed at home more often than not…
Well. He would just have to live vivaciously through the stories of others, he supposed.
@Eulalie sorry for the wait! <3
"talk." text.
elizahveta art
