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S O M N U S There was something peculiar that caught his attention, something that grasped at his insatiable curiosity with a demand for answers. A dusty gold ear flicked to the side, eyes glancing sidelong at his larger companion as he listened the gruff voice reveal sparse tidbits of a past that he could never hope to truly comprehend. Somnus’ expression remained impassive and collected, but there was a telltale dip in his frown that spoke of more intrigue than displeasure. “Were you a sailor of some kind?” The question was rather abrupt but hopefully one that Thorvald, for that was the name in which he introduced himself, wouldn’t mind. Despite his many travels, Somnus had never been to sea. Oh, he had flown over the churning blue waves of the ocean plenty of times, but he had never once set foot upon the solid wood of a well-loved brig. He wondered what such a thing was like; living upon a wooden brig, at the mercy of the might of the ocean. It was an experience that he hoped to partake in, at least some day, if only to know what it was like. Something like ‘small talk’ or mandatory socialization was a skill he had picked up on throughout the years, far before this life here in Novus. It wasn’t something that he particularly enjoyed, for he was far too analytical of a creature to truly settle for the mundane, but he could practically feel the tales that Thorvald surely knew. The things he had seen, the sights, the sounds, the smells… Oh, but the dunalino would have liked to know them. It would be terribly rude to simply ask for a tale, however, when they were still but strangers, and so Somnus mindfully held his tongue. “A pleasure, Thorvald. Or, Val, if you prefer.” A second nod, this one of mutual understanding. It was accompanied alongside a wry grin. “My name is Somnus.” He did not need to say much else. Surely everyone knew his name by now, and honestly? The Dawn King did not know what to make of that. Oriens knew that he felt nothing like a king, nor did he truly feel he deserved to be so known among the people as one. He was just a man; a simple, flawed man, parading about in shoes that were far too big for him to fill. A colt, playing in the cape of a proud father, really. Giving a slight jerk of his head, he motioned to the obliviously napping barn owl perched between his folded wings. “That is Alba. I apologize for her lack of manners.” Yet he could not admit his uncertainties or doubts. Thorvald seemed every inch the seasoned, capable warrior, and Somnus did not wish to cause him to believe that he served a weak king. Transgressions for another time, as they were. Shifting his stance, the tactician gave a roll of a shoulder as he straightened, letting his eyes stray back to the din of the festival around them. xx |
@Thorvald - So sorry for the wait!
