you got me nervous
It was curiosity that drew him to the Steppe - and a healthy dose of apprehension. Ipomoea was not a fighter, and had never and would never aspire to be a fighter. And yet…
It was undeniable; the ability to defend yourself was an invaluable skill.
In his time as Regent, he had watched others lose their positions in challenge. But it was the most recent changes to Solterra, and word that the silver queen had lost not only her crown, but also her life on these very fields, that had been like a slap of cold water, awakening him from slumber. He had been lucky, so far; Delumine was a far quieter court than their eastern neighbors, with far less turmoil. But it was not immune entirely. Even Pavetta had planned to challenge Orion (and, he suspected it was the threat alone that had caused the two-toned man to relinquish his duty.)
The ground has been torn up by many hooves in many battles over the years, and he picks his way across the field carefully. Is that where it happened? he thinks, eyeing a circle of earth with questionably-dark stains, the battle that changed the fate of Day?
He looks away quickly, feeling a bit of bile rising in his throat. I’m not supposed to be here, I can find a trainer at home, this can wait—
“Hello.”
He froze, about to turn away and head back home, when the voice interrupts his thoughts. Ipomoea turns slowly towards the cream-coated stranger, with eyes the color of gemstones.
“Hello.”
He bites his lip, scuffing one hoof against the ground. His wings are fluttering; nervous. For a moment he’s silent - what do you say in situations like these, wanna fight? - before he clears his throat and gestures abstractly around them.
“It’s a nice day out, isn’t it?" he asks, painfully aware that here is not the place most people make small talk about the weather.
@Ipomoea | "speaks" | notes: text
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