IPOMOEA
there's no place i'd rather be
H
is energy is nearly spent; his magic saps the strength from his bones like water, flowing freely without a dam to stop it. It stutters and dies, and the growth of the forest stops. Lonesome flowers dance in the breeze, bending towards their creator on long and flexible stalks. Ipomoea shudders. “I would have done something,” he insists, his voice hardly above a whisper, determination in his voice. He’s a child of the dawn, after all; optimism warms his chest, even in a situation as dark as flooding, as precarious as gods meddling.
He leaves it at that, and says no more. He doesn’t question Florentine’s own choice to remain at her home Court - his guilt, his blame is reserved for himself and he alone.
But he won’t allow it to eat him alive, as she suggests and fears. No, Ipomoea would let it burn inside of him, a flame setting fire to his selfishness and cowardice alike. He would learn from his mistakes.
He can’t help the smile that blossoms at her words, small and shy and tired though it is. He leans back into Florentine, feeling the strength of her wing as she draws him close. His own small wings open and close, like fingers reaching out, clasping and holding onto each other. His breath is a sigh, lost on the wind that pushes them close together.
“I would like that,” he whispers, and it nearly shocks him. The temptation to go pulls strongly at his heart, a need to wander and experience the world taking root. How long had he been in Delumine? He was a Regent now, and the Court was his home - but still he ached for the days of his youth, when each sunrise saw him somewhere new, and each sunset was filled with mystery and the unknown. Po had grown restless here, despite his love for the Court.
His imagination goes wild in the absence of his magic, petals of all colors, shapes and sizes taking root in the hollowness of his mind. A wood like none have ever seen before… Is it wrong, the jealous pride that he feels then, even at the mere prospect of creating something beautiful and unique?
“I will see a world with you,” he promises, turning to press his cheek into the soft skin of her neck. But there’s a sadness still when he closes his eyes and breathes in her petals. “When our world is at peace, when we no longer have to worry about floods or fires or the magic of rogue gods. Then I will come with you, and we’ll explore a new world together.”
He doesn’t know if that day will ever come - Novus is too fickle a land. But still he hopes, and still he’ll fight to make it a possibility. If he can spare even a day he would go, always with the promise of return dancing upon his lips, just as it had when he was but a boy.
“Come,” he says, and takes a step forward, out from the shelter of his wings. His legs are still weary, but the smile that sneaks onto his lips when he looks back at her is anything but. “Come and we’ll talk about the flowers I would choose, and imagine the ones your child will love the most.”
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