A flash of blue caught his eye, Ipomoea turning just in time to see the blue-and-black songbird rushing into the sky. His bonded flew with such a reckless abandon that Po could feel his own heart start to speed up within his chest, thump-thump-thumping in time with Odet’s wings. His feathers flexed at his ankles - reaching, grasping, straining to fly the way the songbird could.
But Po was a horse with wings hardly bigger than Odet’s; flight would never be his.
Instead he let himself pause and watch his bonded, a lazy smile crooked on his lips. He could feel Odet’s joy through their connection, the confident and effortless ease by which he flew. Seeing the world from above through his bonded’s eyes, experiencing it through his thoughts and emotions… that could be enough for Po. It had to be.
After a moment, he finally tore his gaze from the sky and returned it to the roughened landscape unfolding before him. Denocte looked so very different now than the last time he had been here: the ground was muddy and torn, scattered trees burnt to a crisp and even more ripped up by their roots. ’It looks like a war zone,’ he couldn’t help but think, ’I wonder what terrors they had to face…’
Delumine, too, had seen their own share of disasters - the smoke still clogged his lungs, the burnt trees and meadows filled his dreams. But he hadn’t been able to imagine Denocte looking like this; over the many miles he’d covered, he’d kept envisioning the wildflower meadows and the mirror-like lake and the jubilant city streets. And what he found in its stead seemed sorely out of place.
“Of course, it may just be the rain,” he mused aloud to himself. It had rained a good part of his journey, all through the Bellum Steppe and Arma Mountains. The whole time he had prayed the winds would shift and bring the storm clouds north to his own capitol, but whether or not the gods had answered he couldn’t know.
Nor could he fault Odet’s enthusiasm. For days the bird had been nestled in his hair, trying to stay as dry as possible and failing… it must feel good indeed to stretch his wings again.
The road continued to widen the closer he got to the Night Court’s capitol, though Po was sure to stay well off to the side where the grass provided better footing than the rutted and hole-pocked street. With every rumble of thunder, he found himself quickening his stride, the better to bring Denocte into view as soon as possible. By the end, he hardly paid any mind to his surroundings, focusing instead on the buildings growing taller and taller. And when the brown-and-white splashed Regent finally stepped up to the gates, his bonded flit down upon his withers once more. Odet strode carefully up his neck to weave a few fresh flowers into his mane (for Po had to abandon his blossom crown after the rains had drenched it).
And so it was with a smile and a newly-woven braid that Ipomoea entered the Night Court capitol.
It took him longer than expected to weave his way through the sprawling city streets - and before he knew it, he was horribly turned around. The Dawn Court Regent stopped at a split in the road, turning his head first one way, then another, debating which route to take. Shaking his head, he turned to address the nearest equine. “Excuse me, miss, but could you mayhaps point me towards the castle? I’m afraid I might be lost.”
hearts are breaking
wars are raging on
you’ve got me nervous
i’m at the end of my rope
hey, man, we can’t all be like you
i wish we were all rose-colored too
my rose-colored boy
@isra !
here we goooo c;
”here am i!“
