IPOMOEA
confess my love
A
s he stood there listening to first Pavetta and then Somnus have their say, he became uncomfortably aware of the world shifting its stance. How one minute, one sentence, one claim could change the course of not only one life, but of several. How it could change the course of the Court as he knew it, and by extension, all of Novus. Life never did stop turning; it was up to him and every other man and woman to catch up to it.
“I wish to challenge Orion for the position of Emissary, and seek your permission to do so.” As if it were only yesterday, Ipomoea remembered when he had become Emissary. He had not had nearly the amount of confidence as Pavetta did, nor had he done anything to prove himself for the position. But Kasil had seen something in him that he had not realized existed; he had taken a chance, and months down the road had declared his hunch to be correct. Perhaps Po never would know what the ex-King had seen in him; perhaps it was the same thing Somnus had seen, when he had named him his Regent. Perhaps it was something else entirely, something he had yet to truly prove. But if his lasting time in these ranks proved anything at all, it was that Ipomoea was more styled to lead than he had ever imagined.
And as he stood here looking at the Caretaker and listening to her plea, he remembered each of his mentors. The blacksmith from Solterra; Grainne from Denocte; Odet, his own Bonded, who’d traveling with him from Terrastella; Kasil and Somnus, his kings. They had all taken a chance on him based on no more than what they saw when they looked upon him.
So now, Ipomoea strived to look upon Pavetta with the same wisdom and optimism that his teachers had shown him.
‘She’s young, like me,’ he thought. ‘But also scarred. She has seen more than her years would suggest.’
And she did not look away from them.
She stood her ground, her presence commanding attention and respect by example. She was bold, but not arrogant;
Her role as a Caretaker, the very one she had begun gaining notoriety for, demanded she put others’ wellbeing before her own. But when that title was replaced, would she still demonstrate the same humanitarianism?
Ipomoea had a feeling that she would. And unfounded though his hunch was, knowing little of this mare’s personality or history, he was inclined to trust his gut - the same way his King and the King before him had. ’And she’s here, putting forth her claim… she wants this,’ he realized, with a bit of a start. And in his experience, the people who wanted something most were more likely to receive it… and to do well with it.
His cerise eyes turn to Somnus, a quizzical mixture of apprehension and optimism. It was still so strange, being asked for his opinion when he had spent a good deal of his life overlooked. But he would give his opinion nonetheless, and try to be good and wise about it. “I think that if Pavetta wants to prove herself, we should let her.”
He turns from Somnus to address the striped mare herself, his eyes full of contemplation, interest - and hope. And when he spoke, his voice was just as honest and sincere as he had always been. "I wish you luck, Pavetta."
@Somnus @Pavetta | "speaks" | notes: text
