BE BOLD, BE BOLD
BUT NOT TOO BOLD
As he does not have much of an option in the matter, Septimus has made it his goal to endeavor to enjoy the experience of being in Novus.
It is an entirely foreign continent to him; before falling into Denocte, which he’d been informed was a kingdom dedicated to some goddess of the night, he’d never heard of it before, or seen the name in any of the (many) books he’d read. He hasn’t decided yet if that is good or bad. He’s unprepared, and he’s sure that the realm will be full of surprises, but it does appeal to his sense of adventure to explore a place that he knows nothing about. He is a relatively cheerful creature by nature, however, and prone to looking on the bright side.
(And, if he allows his positivity to slip by so much a fraction, he is sure that the weight of his newfound mortality and the void where his magic used to be will come crushing down on his shoulders.)
He’s heard of a library in some place called Delumine, and it is his current quarry. (He isn’t so sure that he hasn’t gotten lost along the way; he was given directions by someone, before he left Denocte, but he doesn’t have a map on him.) Apparently, this library (and he has been told that it is a very unusual library, at that) has the largest collection of knowledge in Novus, and apparently this Delumine, which is dedicated to some god of the dawn, has an exceptionally large population of scholars. If any of the nations in Novus could help him regain his magic, he suspects that it would be that one. He’s heard a bit of the other two – Terrastella, known for its mystics and medics and a group of warrior-pegasi, was dedicated to the goddess of the dusk and stood directly to the west of Denocte. Solterra, a nation of warriors, and the court of the god of the sun was apparently to the north, but he was advised against visiting, because the land was supposedly in political turmoil. The rumors he’d heard had been enough to turn his stomach. Delumine was to the northwest. He’d made his way out of the mountains that shielded Denocte and made his way parallel to the desert. Supposedly, the entrance to Delumine was a great forest, and he thought that he’d seen trees in the distance, but he’d traveled enough for one day, so he’d have to save that theory for the morning.
His wings sweep out to catch the air, steadying him into a comfortable landing as he drops down into a frostbitten plain of brown, wilted grass. It would be his luck to stumble into this realm in the middle of winter, wouldn’t it? He thinks he’d like the spring much better; the cold bites into his coat, especially at night (and it is night), and most of the foliage is all but dead, while many of the animals have either migrated or hunkered down for a long winter’s hibernation.
His hooves touch down on the hard, ice-packed ground with a soft thud. He shakes out his mane, plastered to the dark curve of his neck with cold sweat, and glances around. During other parts of the year, he suspects that the grass is quite tall, but, for now, the landscape seems barren, populated only by a few barren, spindly trees, sticking up here and there. There are some dips and valleys, but they are not especially pronounced, and the largely-flat ground leaves a stunning view of the night sky; he is a bit uncomfortable at the prospect of resting out in the open, so far from any noticeable civilization, but the view of the night is almost enough to make up for it. The moon is huge and exponentially brighter than it seemed while he was in the crowded capitol of Denocte, and the stars stretch out from horizon to horizon, innumerable and brilliant. It is probably bright enough to sketch, and the prospect tempts him. (His notebook and quill practically burn a hole in his bag at the notion; he could make a lovely star-map, with this sight.)
However, Septimus knows himself well enough to know that if he begins to draw, he won’t be able to stop or move on until he’s finished, so he contents himself with the assurance that he can return later, once he’s found his way to Delumine and found a map.
He can still enjoy the sight. Septimus pulls off his glasses and places them in his bag then settles, wings closing in at his sides, and breathes out a cloud of white, his stare upturned towards the stars.
@Nizizi || heeere we go <3
"Speech!"
BUT NOT TOO BOLD
As he does not have much of an option in the matter, Septimus has made it his goal to endeavor to enjoy the experience of being in Novus.
It is an entirely foreign continent to him; before falling into Denocte, which he’d been informed was a kingdom dedicated to some goddess of the night, he’d never heard of it before, or seen the name in any of the (many) books he’d read. He hasn’t decided yet if that is good or bad. He’s unprepared, and he’s sure that the realm will be full of surprises, but it does appeal to his sense of adventure to explore a place that he knows nothing about. He is a relatively cheerful creature by nature, however, and prone to looking on the bright side.
(And, if he allows his positivity to slip by so much a fraction, he is sure that the weight of his newfound mortality and the void where his magic used to be will come crushing down on his shoulders.)
He’s heard of a library in some place called Delumine, and it is his current quarry. (He isn’t so sure that he hasn’t gotten lost along the way; he was given directions by someone, before he left Denocte, but he doesn’t have a map on him.) Apparently, this library (and he has been told that it is a very unusual library, at that) has the largest collection of knowledge in Novus, and apparently this Delumine, which is dedicated to some god of the dawn, has an exceptionally large population of scholars. If any of the nations in Novus could help him regain his magic, he suspects that it would be that one. He’s heard a bit of the other two – Terrastella, known for its mystics and medics and a group of warrior-pegasi, was dedicated to the goddess of the dusk and stood directly to the west of Denocte. Solterra, a nation of warriors, and the court of the god of the sun was apparently to the north, but he was advised against visiting, because the land was supposedly in political turmoil. The rumors he’d heard had been enough to turn his stomach. Delumine was to the northwest. He’d made his way out of the mountains that shielded Denocte and made his way parallel to the desert. Supposedly, the entrance to Delumine was a great forest, and he thought that he’d seen trees in the distance, but he’d traveled enough for one day, so he’d have to save that theory for the morning.
His wings sweep out to catch the air, steadying him into a comfortable landing as he drops down into a frostbitten plain of brown, wilted grass. It would be his luck to stumble into this realm in the middle of winter, wouldn’t it? He thinks he’d like the spring much better; the cold bites into his coat, especially at night (and it is night), and most of the foliage is all but dead, while many of the animals have either migrated or hunkered down for a long winter’s hibernation.
His hooves touch down on the hard, ice-packed ground with a soft thud. He shakes out his mane, plastered to the dark curve of his neck with cold sweat, and glances around. During other parts of the year, he suspects that the grass is quite tall, but, for now, the landscape seems barren, populated only by a few barren, spindly trees, sticking up here and there. There are some dips and valleys, but they are not especially pronounced, and the largely-flat ground leaves a stunning view of the night sky; he is a bit uncomfortable at the prospect of resting out in the open, so far from any noticeable civilization, but the view of the night is almost enough to make up for it. The moon is huge and exponentially brighter than it seemed while he was in the crowded capitol of Denocte, and the stars stretch out from horizon to horizon, innumerable and brilliant. It is probably bright enough to sketch, and the prospect tempts him. (His notebook and quill practically burn a hole in his bag at the notion; he could make a lovely star-map, with this sight.)
However, Septimus knows himself well enough to know that if he begins to draw, he won’t be able to stop or move on until he’s finished, so he contents himself with the assurance that he can return later, once he’s found his way to Delumine and found a map.
He can still enjoy the sight. Septimus pulls off his glasses and places them in his bag then settles, wings closing in at his sides, and breathes out a cloud of white, his stare upturned towards the stars.
@Nizizi || heeere we go <3
"Speech!"
AND RARELY, IF THE WOOD ACCEPTS THE BLADE WITHOUT CONDITIONSthe two pieces keep their balance in spite of the blow❃please tag Septimus! contact is encouraged, short of violence
