He is grateful for the rush of activity that comes then, because it gives him an opportunity to closer examine the situation. First there is the gophers and the work they are setting to; it is only now that he begins to notice the similarities between the holes they are beginning here and the ones that caused collapse throughout the rolling fields. It makes him want a few of AAtreus’s powders and plants for himself; it makes him wish that Calliope were still among them.
But then his gaze returns to the injured animal (but how? he can see no wound still) and the inscrutable stranger with him. Asterion is about to ask her name, to catch her eye, when Atreus returns. At the same time Solaris flutters down toward the gopher, and the bay does not doubt the bird for a moment; he steps back, casting his glance up to @Israfel for a moment. He smiles, though it is faint as rain on a distant hillside.
His eyes move to @Fiona next, when she steps forward with the bowl, the liquid in it barely wavering in her careful hold. Concern wrinkles the place between his brows as he looks at her, but she does not meet his gaze; still it follows her anyway. Only when she turns back to the other gophers does he, too, and what he sees makes him stand taller, makes his blood begin to turn hot like sunlight saltwater in his veins.
Asterion doesn’t need the strange mare to say what she does, then; in that moment he has realized it for himself. At the sound of her voice he looks to her, anyway, dark-eyed with a drawn mouth - but the king does not speak. Not yet, not yet, because he is recognizing something else, too; the color that is creeping up her legs like dawn. A glint in her eye that he had not seen before. Suddenly even the timbre of her voice is like a memory, like the wind always in his ears.
The bay stallion does not know what to think of the goddess in their midst, as the court is destroyed around them.
Luckily he does not yet have to speak. @
But her words have him thinking, having him nodding in agreement. He thinks of how, before the gophers had come, there was a week of rains, and all the fields were flooded. He thinks of how lucky it was, that it happened after so much had already been gathered; little was left of food after those first terrible days.
“Everything in the kitchens - bring it all,” he says then, and thinks unbidden of Moira, and her love for sweets. He catches the eye of a few horses standing toward the back of those gathered, and gestures them away. They go at once.
And then he turns back to the gophers and the scattered members of his court, and all the worry they wear.
“Theodosia is right,” he says, his voice soft-edged but stern as a boulder smoothed by the current. “You are guests within these walls, and you must not destroy our city. We need it to survive, as you surely need the grains and grasses that were all washed away by the rains. If must be we will defend it-“ and here he releases the barest touch of his power, enough to fill the holes dug so far to the brim with water. There is still enough in the air, he thinks, and the ground, and the nearby sea, to lend him strength for ours. Yet his words are still even when he speaks again. “But we would rather shelter you, and feed you, and help you return home.”
if you'll be my star*
