Being Regent demands a certain ability to focus - a quality Ipomoea has never been very good at. Be it due to his nature and the way he was born, or nurture and the many times he was moved around as a child, he was prone to boredom and wanderlust. Meetings were especially challenging, but he liked to think he was getting better at honing his patience.
Today, however, there was no hope for him.
The open fields surrounding the Dawn Court capitol ever called to him, singing a near irresistible song that promised him clear skies and flowers and clouds to make shapes out of. He tugged at his flower crown absentmindedly, pulling it from his brow to remove a delicate blossom from the woven circlet, re-braiding it so that the remaining flowers would fill the gap he created. And when he returned his crown to its proper place, he kept his stolen flower firmly within his telekinetic grasp, all the better to admire it while he waited for something more interesting to take place.
He was so absorbed in his flower and daydreams that he almost missed the god speaking. When he finally realized what was going on, he nearly dropped his flowers in his haste to listen - but he was still too slow to understand, and far too slow to add his voice to the fray. All at once they began to speak, Somnus and Pavetta and Ulric and even sweet Regis, and it was all Po could do to follow along.
’Someone is starting fires? Or something?’ he couldn’t believe it. ’Who would do such a thing?’ The word monster slipped through his mind, unbidden, unspoken, but present all the same. He couldn’t believe it, wouldn’t believe it, not without proof.
But then again, when was a god ever wrong?
Ipomoea shifted uncomfortably on his feet, looking around at all the familiar faces surrounding him. 'Could it be one of them?' The thought shamed him.
His voice was small - far smaller than a Regent's had any right to be - but it didn't stop him from raising his question to the god. "How, Oriens? How are we supposed to stop them?"
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
@everyone ! enjoy a silent po
”here am i!“
