"i walked into the room dripping in
gold. a wave of heads did turn,
or so i've been told"
gold. a wave of heads did turn,
or so i've been told"
EROS
Eros meets Po’s friendly gesture with a smile. It belies his confusion; he finds himself fabricating all kinds of reasons Po might have been looking for him: some encouraging, some not quite. His first hope, of course, is that he had found Aion. But if he had, wouldn’t he have brought him along? Maybe Po had discovered his small forest garden, instead, and has come to scold him for not asking permission! In any case, Eros cannot help but wonder what Ipomoea could possibly have sought him out for.
“Oh, I’ve been alright?” And it’s not a lie, not exactly. A stretch of the truth, perhaps, but not a lie. Admittedly, he could be better, could have found Aion at last and been happy—but since he hasn’t, at least he has made himself a friend. And he supposes he’s been enjoying the warmer weather, as well, has been able to enjoy the sun, and blue skies, and fully-realized blossoms of summer.
Po turns toward his secret flower garden, then, and asks him to follow.“Something to discuss with me?,” he repeats, swallowing down the lump that forms in his throat. Surely if it were something pleasant he would have just come out and said it?, Eros worries. And in the direction of his flowers, too! He can only hope that isn’t the matter, that Po won’t notice them as they’re passing through, no matter their distinctiveness from the typical forest foliage.
@ipomoea oh, undebatably
Po turns toward his secret flower garden, then, and asks him to follow.
@ipomoea oh, undebatably
