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I P O M O E A The longer they stand together in the rain, the more Ipomoea remembers Solterra. The sun and the sand and the water rations. He wonders—had he stayed, would he have been different? Would he had grown up still loving flowers, or would he be as confused as Eik? Oh, how Ipomoea longed to bring basket after basket of petals and blossoms to Solterra. He could see it now, him setting up a stand (with a canopy for shade, of course), giving away nature’s greatest beauty to any who admitted to wanting one. How he longed to teach this Eik everything he knew so that maybe, just maybe, he would understand and love them as much as Po did. And even if he didn’t, that would be alright. But it was worth trying, wasn’t it? Po would gladly share his passion with the world, if the world would only grant him permission. Eik’s words are kind, and understanding. But does he really understand? Does Ipomoea? Flowers might be more important to him than anything else… but Eik is still right. He’s been so caught up in his duties that he’d forgotten to take time to stop and smell the roses, literally and proverbially. “But they always come back. Like a promise, the rain brings them back.” He smiles then, his mind envisioning the rivers of color that are to come in the following months. Fall brought with it the vibrancy of leaves, Winter the joy of snow… but come Spring, his endless meadows of wildflowers would return. “You should visit then in the spring. Delumine is at its best then.” The rain begins to fall more in earnest now, and Odet voices his distaste for it with a series of chirps. The rest of the forest animals had sought cover long before the rain started; Po could feel the water running in currents down his sides, drenching through his coat. “I’m sure he would appreciate that,” he chuckles. “He isn’t a fan of swimming.” And that was basically what they were doing now; puddles of standing water were accumulating at the horses’ feet, a shallow river to trudge through. He wonders then what it might have been like if Odet were a duck, rather than a songbird. Not that Po would ever trade bonded, but the thought brought a glimmer of a smile to his eyes. “It was nice to meet you, Eik from Solterra.” And he means it. He may have left the desert country, with no plans of a permanent return… but he could appreciate those who did enjoy the desert, who both endured and loved it. He watches the grey man disappear into the rain, a ghost blending into the forest. His voice wanders back to him, and he smiles again, even if Eik wouldn’t see it. “All you need to do is ask, and I will,” he promises, hoping Eik hears him. After a pause, he turns and heads back to the capitol, much to Odet’s relief. The songbird burrows himself farther into his mane, both bird and horse now daydreaming about the sands and dryness of the desert. |
neverrmind art
