He laughs in return to the ram-horned man’s comment, unaware there was any truth beneath it; for all that Asterion’s impressions of people have been wrong, on Novus, he has still not learned caution first and trust second. “Just that you are recently arrived, but widely knowledgeable in the herbal arts.”
It is a lucky thing he isn’t capable of blushing, because otherwise Atreus’ bow would have him flushed crimson; it doesn’t matter how many times something similar occurs, he will never be used it. It only reminds him how out of place he is here, among parties and parapets, but Asterion smiles demurely and hides his relief when the other man straightens again. “I think you’re the first to say so,” he says. Other than Flora, he thinks he might be right – and as his sister, her opinion of him was happily biased.
As the man continued speaking, the twlit bay couldn’t help but think that here was someone far more suited to politics. He spoke like an upbeat piece of music, or like writing from a book; his words were wielded with ease.
At least it makes it easier to respond, and the bay shakes his head, dismissing the other stallion’s assumption. “Oh, I can take no credit for the lovely setting. That’s due to Fiona’s work, I think, along with some others.” Yet another names he knows but has not yet met; the paint woman is also set to be rewarded tonight for her work. Asterion chides himself; busy as he’s been, he needs to make more of an effort to meet the city’s citizens. “I just get to reap the benefits of attending. But yes, I keep busy. Audiences with the public, sitting in on committees, making sure Terrastella runs smoothly.” He is almost surprised with the ease of the answer – until he wonders if Dusk is running smoothly.
Certainly there has been no more talk of war since that meeting in Tinea, and no word has come from Night since the closing of the gate. For now, that was near enough to peace.
But his thoughts are running away with him again – Asterion blinks, and refocuses his attention on his companion. The fire crackles, casting its glow of shifting, seething shadows, making things just a touch of strange. “But I would know more of you – what brings you to the Dusk Court, and how did you learn so much of healing? That must be years of study.”
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