Metaphor found it easy to walk alongside his beloved in the land which she called home. There was something simpler now between them. Perhaps it was that Katniss was no longer the leader. While he’d been happy to serve beneath her, supporting her cause, there was something to be said for the two of them being commoners in this world. Now, they could leave politics to the regents and focus instead on their relationship, and their happiness. After roaming for so long on his own, nothing sounded more inviting to him than a quiet life with his queen by his side. Metaphor had found his peace.
The Night Court was beautiful. It wasn’t unlike Sydan, The Vale, Elysian… and Metaphor is comforted by the greenery that rolls out like a carpet before him. In the mountains, he breathes in the world around him. He recognizes many of the scents – pine, spruce, fir. Home. There was something so homelike about the land, a sentiment which is only enhanced as Katniss takes him to her house.
It stands inviting on the borderlands, away from the others, just detached enough for the lovers to find some privacy to themselves. As he steps over the hearth, the male is careful to wipe his feet so as not to dirty her home. He feels a quick pang of self-consciousness, but the feeling quickly fades as his chocolate eyes draw in the homey touches of her residence. By the crackling fire, she is even more beautiful than when he’d seen her in the plain… and for what seemed like the dozenth time since arriving at Novus, Metaphor is struck by the notion of how lucky he is. How lucky they both were, to have found each other once more.
You’ve built a lovely home. his voice is quiet and sincere, even as she turns to gather her bonded. Finnick. It was a fitting name for a trustful companion. Nodding to the eagle, he addressed him with a low tone, so as not to startle the bird. It’s a pleasure Finnick, and thank you for watching over my Katniss. A small frown creases his brow though, as his mind drifts toward his own companion. I… I don’t know what happened to Keres. There is a tone of sadness to his revelation, for the fox had been with Metaphor since he was little more than a kit. Maaemo had trusted him to care for the creature, and he’d let her down. I hope he’s alright. Perhaps like the wanderer, the fox would find his way here too. Metaphor could only wish.
