I want to be with those who know secret things
or else alone
or else alone
Asterion does not share her discomfort, though it’s something he well recognizes, having felt it often enough himself. He is still tempted to blush when he thinks of the foolish boy he’d been at first, wide-eyed with wonder for each new thing, from wine to windows. He isn’t sure he even would have possessed the courage to present himself to a sovereign on his first day, and for that alone he thinks Bel brave.
Of course, when Asterion was nervous he became even more tight-lipped, falling into silence with his uncertainty; that, perhaps, was the main place they differed.
“We’re here to help you as we can,” he says, and even Cirrus lifts her head as if to agree. The bay king follows her gaze out toward the sea, though it is too far to hear the sigh of the waves, or taste the salt in the breeze. Yet he does feel cool, damp air against his skin, light as a mist, and turns back to her in soft surprise. Only then does he notice the vapor rolling off her skin, and the bay’s smile turns brighter. Though he says nothing of his own water-magic, his tireless curiosity turns to hers. Perhaps he needn’t worry so - it seemed she was better-equipped than he imagined.
“Cirrus and I would love to give you a tour,” he says, and flicks his tail at his companion, who clacks her bright beak at him good-naturedly. “And I would like to hear of the world you came from, too, when you are ready to share it. I have…a great affinity, for the water.” It’s an understatement, he thinks wryly (and Cirrus agrees, sending a seagull’s sigh down the mental bond they share), but Asterion has never been open about his magic, and not even he knows the furthest limits of his power. Anyway, his meaning is more mundane, for his lifelong love of the sea has always been more for what it teaches him (patience, beauty, strength, steadiness) than how he can bend it to his will.
Now he regards her again, though he has stepped back to a polite distance, and tries to keep his gaze from wandering in curiosity over her features. When she mentions sharks his expression grows more serious, and the king nods, thoughtful, though it is not fish he is thinking of. “Indeed,” he says, “and on that note I should mention there are stories of kelpies who come to shore beneath the full moon, or live solitary in the depths of the swamp. I have not seen any, nor heard reports, but you should know of it.” Only then does he remember his earlier thought, and he tilts his head toward her. “Please excuse my rudeness in asking, but - are you a kelpie?”
@Below Zero
Asterion.
