[AW] muddy hymnals;

[Asterion]

Asterion in sunshine and in shadow*   Air never tasted so sweet as it did when Asterion left that holy place.   The walk back to the Dusk Court was a quiet thing, for him. It was shared solemn glances, and his shoulder bumping against his friends’, and listening to other people’s conversation. It was remembrance and contemplation and most of all the knowing –   This was only the beginning.   -   He has never before been grateful to see a bird, but that is what he feels when Cirrus cries a welcome and wheels down from her circling once he steps into the citadel. She says nothing, thinks nothing, as she perches between his shoulder blades, but her slight weight is a comfort nonetheless.   The regent is grateful, too, for all those of his court. Florentine had gone and stopped them from their digging, but the knowledge of what they had done – had tried to do – would stay with him forever. Each heartbeat of his is mingled love and worry, and maybe that is what belonging truly meant.   They gather now in silence and in speech, and though so many times Asterion has sought solitude he is glad for the comfort of the crowd now. His dark-eyed gaze goes once more to Florentine, and then he clears his throat and looks to the members of the Court he loves. (What thoughts rise of that last meeting, standing in a swamp barred with thick shadows and golden light, he pushes away).   “I’m sure you have all heard,” he says, and he makes his voice louder than its normal seafoam softness – not the sea that shatters and breaks but the cliff it rushes against – “some version of what happened on the Mount. But we would like you to hear it from us.   After Tempus shut the doors on the regimes, he spoke to us. He asked us why the courts squabbled. He warned us that a change was coming.” The bay knows he will not soon forget the glow of those eyes, the terrible, mouthless sound of that voice. Almost he forgets he stands in his city’s courtyard now, and is not again hidden away in a place prepared by a god. “The regimes spoke of what had happened, and of our wishes for peace. We asked the god what change we should expect.   And then we heard Tempus’ children themselves speaking. They accused one another, and their voices rose to arguing, and then Tempus bid them stop. That is when the stones collapsed.” His voice is like stone, too, but his eyes are soft and dark and watchful of the people gathered. “Nothing we – or you – did could stir them. We worked together, as did you, but Tempus did not shift the stone. After a time, he let us out another way.” So quietly had they all slipped from that holy place; even now Asterion is dark with sweat and gray with dust. His dark mouth draws a grim line. “He said nothing else.”   Overhead the evening is bleeding away to night. Cirrus shifts on his back, a ruffle of pale feathers like a sigh. Once more he looks between them, these faces that teach him what it is to love. “We wanted you to know, so that we may be ready. Although…” Almost he laughs, but in the end he closes his teeth on it; instead he shapes a wry smile. “Ready for what is anyone’s guess.”   @Florentine @Cyrene @Fiona @Atreus @Israfel @Turhan just tagging all the champs - but all of Dusk (or others hanging about) are welcome if you want to hear what happened at the Summit and ask any questions! Just figured we should get this IC <3