asterion,
It is spring - at last it is spring - and all of Terrastella is shaking off its slumber.
The waking began beneath the bare canopy of Tinea as the ephemerals began to bloom. Rue anemone, trout lily, bloodroot and bluebells; each unfurled from cool, damp ground, brief and lovely, a kiss on the cheek in lieu of a promise. The wind blew warm air in from the sea, and the grasses began to wave green in the meadows, and all the birds were coming home.
Asterion tells himself it is a good time for change. A good time for letting new things be born, and letting die what must. Yet it does not make the walk to the cliffside any easier.
He is too taut with nerves, his heart a white-knuckled fist. Far above him Cirrus is describing lazy circles, a calmer scene than the one he feels a part of; but as he watches her, with first cloud-shadow and then warm sun on his face, he draws in some of her easy peace. There, too, is the sea, and each sigh of a wave upon the beach whispers home.
When he stands before the people at last, the bay is smiling. He wears no crown, no colors of dusk but the ones he was born with; his hair is loose as always, made unruly by the breeze. Perhaps the only thing that marks him as a king pride in his heart as he watches them. The cliffside smells like salt and wildflowers and Asterion marks each face that turns to him now.
“My friends,” he begins. “We have been through so much together. So many things that might have broken us, so many that have left us with scars. It doesn’t matter from where these trials come - other courts, the gods, even ourselves. Each time we stand. Each time we grow.” His voice is not the sea-foam wisp it once was; it is steady as a current, deep but gentle as a brook.
“And we always will, together, no matter what waits for us on the other side of every evening. For years Terrastella has been my home, and it has been my great honor to rule it as best I can. But I think you have long since earned the right to choose your ruler.”
Now he pulls in a deep breath, now his gaze is searching on all of their faces. His belly has become a garden of butterflies, but oh how they buoy him up! Stronger, now, his voice carries over the cliffs, and even the waves are near-silent as the king speaks, a held breath (one that his magic may have had a hand in).
“Terrastellans, it is time to vote. Choose me and I will continue to lead you with what small measure of wisdom and honor I possess - choose another and know I will support you and them, always, whatever comes.”
king of dusk.
to: everyone | ooc: eeyyyyy DEMOCRACY. So here’s how it works (unless it works poorly, and then we will change it!). First, everyone is encouraged to respond! For anyone in a position of power or interested in holding a position of power, this is especially important. Your character can vote for who they would like to lead (king/queen) IC or OOC; if you would like it to be anonymous please send your vote to someone on staff. Voting will be open until 6/14. Whoever has the most votes then will be Dusk’s ruler! (if anyone has been considering a coup, now’s the time haha).
If Asterion is chosen to continue, then he/I will fill the remaining positions before the end of this season - Regent, Emissary, and possibly Champion of Wisdom/any other Champion positions requiring it. If it is someone else, then I will leave that in their hands :)
<3 <3 <3 let me know if you have any questions!
