asterion*
The Dusk Court is unrecognizable.
Not just in the shifting landscape, caverns and sinkholes new-made, the ruin of what had been sweeping fields and sleepy forests. And not just because most citizens who remained looked little like themselves, and instead much like Asterion – black and brown and lean and weary, so weary.
But there is something else missing – a hope that has been replaced with fear, a happiness swallowed by uncertainty. Once, on his way back into the keep, he passed a young mare preaching Vespera’s unhappiness, and the coming of the end of days. Repent, she cried, and the wind tossed her hair, and only because Asterion had met the goddess himself did he order her to be quiet. More fear, more panic, was not what they needed.
In such chaos the great hall is almost a cathedral. Warmth and light wash over him as he steps within, as does the sound of talking, and – though he can scarcely believe it – laughter. There are not many faces he recognizes, but he is grateful for all of them nonetheless. Even the squirrels and foxes and ground-nesting birds he turns his dark gaze to, and smiles (albeit grimly) at the sight of a family of otters, setting about some fish.
He passes among them, offering a smile or a word of reassurance or gratitude as he goes, and makes his way for the kirin. Amidst all of these Relic still glimmers like a jewel and though Asterion has never properly met the man, Florentine calls him a friend, and for now that is good enough.
The bay arrives just as Relic is pouring a pitcher of water for a stranger who, muddy and injured as he is, doesn’t look unlike the king himself. A faint smile creases his lips at the request, when most of the wine and all of the ale of the capital has been opened for all.
“I’ve never cared for the desert,” he says idly, “but after this I’m not so sure it wouldn’t suit me, after all.” His smile takes as much effort as using the last dregs of his power had the day before; still, he does not let it fade, only softens it into something without humor. “Thank you for your help, Relic,” he says, his gaze meeting the kirin’s before slipping to the stranger. “And welcome to our halls, sir. Is there anything else you need in this moment? Has anyone looked at your leg?”
@Raam @Relic <3
Not just in the shifting landscape, caverns and sinkholes new-made, the ruin of what had been sweeping fields and sleepy forests. And not just because most citizens who remained looked little like themselves, and instead much like Asterion – black and brown and lean and weary, so weary.
But there is something else missing – a hope that has been replaced with fear, a happiness swallowed by uncertainty. Once, on his way back into the keep, he passed a young mare preaching Vespera’s unhappiness, and the coming of the end of days. Repent, she cried, and the wind tossed her hair, and only because Asterion had met the goddess himself did he order her to be quiet. More fear, more panic, was not what they needed.
In such chaos the great hall is almost a cathedral. Warmth and light wash over him as he steps within, as does the sound of talking, and – though he can scarcely believe it – laughter. There are not many faces he recognizes, but he is grateful for all of them nonetheless. Even the squirrels and foxes and ground-nesting birds he turns his dark gaze to, and smiles (albeit grimly) at the sight of a family of otters, setting about some fish.
He passes among them, offering a smile or a word of reassurance or gratitude as he goes, and makes his way for the kirin. Amidst all of these Relic still glimmers like a jewel and though Asterion has never properly met the man, Florentine calls him a friend, and for now that is good enough.
The bay arrives just as Relic is pouring a pitcher of water for a stranger who, muddy and injured as he is, doesn’t look unlike the king himself. A faint smile creases his lips at the request, when most of the wine and all of the ale of the capital has been opened for all.
“I’ve never cared for the desert,” he says idly, “but after this I’m not so sure it wouldn’t suit me, after all.” His smile takes as much effort as using the last dregs of his power had the day before; still, he does not let it fade, only softens it into something without humor. “Thank you for your help, Relic,” he says, his gaze meeting the kirin’s before slipping to the stranger. “And welcome to our halls, sir. Is there anything else you need in this moment? Has anyone looked at your leg?”
@Raam @Relic <3
