A S T E R I O N
in sunshine and in shadow*
If Asterion had hoped further mention of his sister would spark some recognition in the boy, no sign of it shows as they begin to walk. His expression remains tranquil, though he cannot banish the worry from his dark eyes.
But why should he worry? From what Florentine has said, Pan is the boy who will not grow up; he’s survived all of his adventures yet, and sails by his own stars, and does not need a half-acquaintance fretting over him like a mother hen. No offense, he thinks to Cirrus, who flicks a wing at him. Oh, but it is something else to ponder in the deep waters of his heart - when had he gone from adventurer to worrier? Not so long ago he might have been a companion of Pan’s, chasing every sunset. Now -
“It is,” he smiles more wryly at the irony of it. “In many ways.” He is glad not to continue, glad to be interrupted by the colt’s excitement. The bay leans in to observe Pan’s treasures, though his brows raise at the mention of a fire-breathing dragon horse. “I don’t know about pirates, but I know there are smugglers in the coves off Denocte,” he says, and immediately feels a tinge of guilt as Cirrus shoots him an accusatory look. No need to encourage the boy to hunt down the darker shadows of the Night Court. “Oh,” he says quickly (before the boy could process), and the wonder in his voice is genuine as he looks at the music box. Distant as the music is, it carries him back to the night markets, too. Asterion thinks of Moira, and Isra, and all those he’d met in Denocte - it fills him with a sweet kind of homesickness.
Yet he is glad to be walking through the fields of his own court, the long grasses tickling his belly. “All sorts,” he answers, grinning, “about a thimble you gave her, and a boy named Egg, and a dozen more besides.” It is easy to see why Flora and Pan were such good friends - both of them hungry for adventure, both of them flowing through a conversation like a leaping stream, thought to thought and question to question.
It puts his mind at ease, and his smile broadens as he watches Cirrus wing ahead, the sun bright on her snow-white wings. “I did not,” he says with a laugh, and pauses to admire the boy’s marking. He shakes his head at the following question, starting forward again. The walls of the keep were visible now, sheer and gray as the cliffs from which their stones were cut. “I think you might already know more about Novus that I do,” he says. “What will you do next?”
@Pan over here making asterion feel old xD wanna wrap this one soon? I'm so glad he's back <3
