[AW] Skymail, pt. 2

[Atreus]

over the moaning bones
of those who quit and chose to remain

A low grumble of annoyance rattles in his throat when he is summoned. Early though it may be, the man of crimson and silver threads has been up for a few hours already, toiling over a new formula he’s been striving to perfect. Drawing a curtain to cover his work station, Atreus answered the door, a questioning curvature to his brow. The messenger tells him to come as quickly as he can, that Asterion requires his presence. Atreus merely nods his head in a promissory way and shuts the door on the messenger.

He takes what time is needed to clear away his work, hiding away the dark, inky substance he had brewed for a later time. When he leaves, there is no evidence gifted to the unassuming eye he was ever working on anything in the first place.

He’s the second to arrive, just after the pale shield maiden, and it’s to her side that Atreus saunters up beside. His eyes, one of endless black and the other like freshly molten gold, however, are situated on Terrastella’s newly crowned King.

And, oh, does Asterion have news.

As the words leave the bay’s lips, there’s a flash of a moment where Atreus looks stupefied. His eyes widen and his neck stiffens, and that ever present smirk disappears as dark lips instead draw back, taut as he listens further, but not entirely absorbing the information like he would normally. Had he said... Somnus? The wretched memories threatened to come bubbling to the surface, but to any that hardly know him, it would appear that the Champion was merely mulling it all over and processing what might be best to bring along their journey. But in truth, he was scheming.

Of course, there was a chance that this could be some stranger bearing the same name as his brother - but it was a slim one at best.

By the time Asterion finishes speaking, that familiar, casual grin has returned to the roan’s lips, and he spares a glance to the ivory woman beside him. “I need only grab a few things and I will be ready,” he reassures as he begins to turn back toward the citadel and up to his quarters,
“It would be a crime to make the boy suffer any longer.”

“Speaking.”

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