Stay Determined...
It was, by all rights, a peaceful, beautiful day. Perhaps that was why the Gods, cruel as they could sometimes be, saw it fit to mess it all up.
The fires had finally been contained and doused. Peace and normality were settling over Delumine once more. No longer did they have to fret of losing their home or their lives, but still worry and fear would not leave Somnus’ golden breast. Anxiety pinched every nerve in his body, stealing his breath on the best of days, waiting and watching as his frail son grew ever weaker, ever sicker, slowly but surely succumbing to the illness that he had been born with. Would they lose him? Would today be the day that they went to rouse Regis from his slumber, only for him to never wake? Those were the constant thoughts that plagued Somnus’ head and heart, but he did his best to appear strong around his family and his people. They were worried. They were suffering. They were rebuilding. Now was not the time to falter.
Pressing a kiss to his son’s resting brow, Somnus lipped at the strands of Regis’ growing forelock with a gentle fondness. Slowly, quietly, he lifted his head and rolled his shoulders back, turning to instead press his muzzle into the soft skin of Eulalie’s neck.“Come, darling.” Roosting upon a wooden perch, Alba popped her beak once at the pair. The barn owl had returned from Terrastella days prior and had hardly left Regis’ side since then, which Somnus found himself grateful for. Having someone always looking after the boy helped soothe the concern, but not entirely.
Leaving their personal quarters, side by side, Somnus willed the door shut quietly behind them, but not before Tabbris could follow. Even if Regis happened to wake, seeing Alba there would stave off any worry he might feel. Sickly though he was, the boy was determined, headstrong, and so incredibly persistent. He would be fine for a while. Turning their way down the hall, the last thing that Somnus expected was to be accosted by a harried looking page. The young horse rushed up to them, giving them both a nod before speaking quickly, clearly winded from his mad rush through the capitol grounds.
”The party from Terrastella have come. They’re awaiting you both in the courtyard.”
Blessed Oriens.
Relief settled over Somnus like a tender mantle, so strong that his shoulders trembled and his posture slackened. His eyes, pools of verdant filled to the brim with elation and liberation, turned to focus on Eulalie’s soft earthen browns. A smile lit up dark lips as the dunalino let out a very audible breath, feeling as though that cumbersome, troubled weight had finally been lifted from his shoulders.“Let’s not keep them waiting, Eulalie.” So elated and uncaring of the company of the page, Somnus leaned forward to press the most intimate of kisses to his beloved’s cheek, turning so that the mottled feathers of his wing brushed against her side.
Finally. Oh, finally. He prayed that these anticipated strangers from Terrastella would be able to help Regis, for neither he nor Eulalie had any clue what else to do. Heading down the hallways, Somnus kept pace with his ivory and blonde-tressed love. Together they stepped outside of the citadel, the sun bearing down warm and welcome upon their backs. Verdant eyes, glittering with joy and eagerness, flicked across the courtyard. He spotted the waiting group immediately, a dashing smile pulling at his lips, and unthinking, he approached. Unaware. Unknowing.
His eyes roamed the group as he and Eulalie crossed the distance, and then… Then. It was the expression that Somnus first saw once they were close enough to make out the finer details of their long-awaited guests. Not the body, the familiar color of rusted, roaning silver or dark crimson feathers akin to a bird of prey. It wasn’t the size of him, the shape, or even the stature, no, but the expression… That face. Twisted, gnarled, cruel, those eyes… Oh, Somnus knew those eyes; the black sclera, the inching, twisting, inky blackness that stretched from the stallion’s right eye and downwards, downwards. He did not see the others. Could not see the others, for it was only him.
All at once, Somnus drew up short. The elation slipped from his face like melting ice, his pulse beginning to race, the cloying scent of smoke and ash filling his lungs as he remembered, oh did he remember. Screams. The dying. The citadel of Vhallen going up in flames and his king, oh, his beloved king, slain upon marble stone steps.
Atreus. His brother. There was no proof, but Somnus was no fool. One traitor was all it had taken to take his king from him. A single man.
Once, perhaps, happiness might fill his breast at seeing his older brother standing there before him, alive. Now? Oh, now, only anger remained. Anger, deep and cruel, a rage unlike anything Somnus had ever felt before slowly crawled up from his very core, ugly and black like the identical, putrid corruption that infiltrated Atreus’ very being. It was only the knowledge that his people were standing around, that Eulalie was at his side, which stopped Somnus from immediately launching in to the offensive.
Collect yourself, Somnus. Your tongue is your weapon. Use it.
“Atreus.” Never before had Somnus’ voice sounded so cold, so void of warmth and full of hatred. While he would not be so outwardly hostile, he would not save such a tone from his tongue. Let his brother know his hatred; Somnus did not care. He moved, shifting closer to Eulalie as though to protect her from whatever trick this might be, as a strange, boiling sensation seemed to begin within his very own blood. “… What a surprise to see that you’re alive.” And in Novus, no less.
How bloody ironic. What a messed up day, indeed.
tag: @Atreus, @Eulalie
The fires had finally been contained and doused. Peace and normality were settling over Delumine once more. No longer did they have to fret of losing their home or their lives, but still worry and fear would not leave Somnus’ golden breast. Anxiety pinched every nerve in his body, stealing his breath on the best of days, waiting and watching as his frail son grew ever weaker, ever sicker, slowly but surely succumbing to the illness that he had been born with. Would they lose him? Would today be the day that they went to rouse Regis from his slumber, only for him to never wake? Those were the constant thoughts that plagued Somnus’ head and heart, but he did his best to appear strong around his family and his people. They were worried. They were suffering. They were rebuilding. Now was not the time to falter.
Pressing a kiss to his son’s resting brow, Somnus lipped at the strands of Regis’ growing forelock with a gentle fondness. Slowly, quietly, he lifted his head and rolled his shoulders back, turning to instead press his muzzle into the soft skin of Eulalie’s neck.
Leaving their personal quarters, side by side, Somnus willed the door shut quietly behind them, but not before Tabbris could follow. Even if Regis happened to wake, seeing Alba there would stave off any worry he might feel. Sickly though he was, the boy was determined, headstrong, and so incredibly persistent. He would be fine for a while. Turning their way down the hall, the last thing that Somnus expected was to be accosted by a harried looking page. The young horse rushed up to them, giving them both a nod before speaking quickly, clearly winded from his mad rush through the capitol grounds.
”The party from Terrastella have come. They’re awaiting you both in the courtyard.”
Blessed Oriens.
Relief settled over Somnus like a tender mantle, so strong that his shoulders trembled and his posture slackened. His eyes, pools of verdant filled to the brim with elation and liberation, turned to focus on Eulalie’s soft earthen browns. A smile lit up dark lips as the dunalino let out a very audible breath, feeling as though that cumbersome, troubled weight had finally been lifted from his shoulders.
Finally. Oh, finally. He prayed that these anticipated strangers from Terrastella would be able to help Regis, for neither he nor Eulalie had any clue what else to do. Heading down the hallways, Somnus kept pace with his ivory and blonde-tressed love. Together they stepped outside of the citadel, the sun bearing down warm and welcome upon their backs. Verdant eyes, glittering with joy and eagerness, flicked across the courtyard. He spotted the waiting group immediately, a dashing smile pulling at his lips, and unthinking, he approached. Unaware. Unknowing.
His eyes roamed the group as he and Eulalie crossed the distance, and then… Then. It was the expression that Somnus first saw once they were close enough to make out the finer details of their long-awaited guests. Not the body, the familiar color of rusted, roaning silver or dark crimson feathers akin to a bird of prey. It wasn’t the size of him, the shape, or even the stature, no, but the expression… That face. Twisted, gnarled, cruel, those eyes… Oh, Somnus knew those eyes; the black sclera, the inching, twisting, inky blackness that stretched from the stallion’s right eye and downwards, downwards. He did not see the others. Could not see the others, for it was only him.
All at once, Somnus drew up short. The elation slipped from his face like melting ice, his pulse beginning to race, the cloying scent of smoke and ash filling his lungs as he remembered, oh did he remember. Screams. The dying. The citadel of Vhallen going up in flames and his king, oh, his beloved king, slain upon marble stone steps.
Atreus. His brother. There was no proof, but Somnus was no fool. One traitor was all it had taken to take his king from him. A single man.
Once, perhaps, happiness might fill his breast at seeing his older brother standing there before him, alive. Now? Oh, now, only anger remained. Anger, deep and cruel, a rage unlike anything Somnus had ever felt before slowly crawled up from his very core, ugly and black like the identical, putrid corruption that infiltrated Atreus’ very being. It was only the knowledge that his people were standing around, that Eulalie was at his side, which stopped Somnus from immediately launching in to the offensive.
Collect yourself, Somnus. Your tongue is your weapon. Use it.
How bloody ironic. What a messed up day, indeed.
