I P O M O E A
The island was both strange, and enchanting.
It reminds him of Florentine, and her dagger that can cut into the hearts of new worlds; she had asked him to see a world with her not long ago, when they stood beneath the ruined trees of Viride and Po had grown a small meadow of flowers. It hadn’t been the time then, there had been too many conflicts that he couldn’t abandon, yet he agreed nonetheless.
Has that time come? he finds himself wondering now, as the shadows of the forest close in around him. Is this world like others she’s seen?
He wishes she were here now; Ipomoea has so many questions burning inside of him, begging for answers. Yet all he can do is wander amongst the trees, all he can do is watch and listen and wait -
- a colt goes flying past him, kicking up sand and leaves in his wake.
For a moment Ipomoea watches after him, stunned. He half expected a creature to come flying out from between the trees in pursuit, and yet all around him the world was still, save for the muted thunder of hooves racing towards the beach.
He turns and peers into the vegetation. A pair of cerulean eyes peer back at him, as a strange bird tilts its head and clacks its beak, gesturing in the direction the horse had gone.
Silently, Ipomoea turns and follows at a brisk trot, following the torn up trail the colt had left in his wake.
A few others have already gathered back at the beach by the time Ipomoea arrives, surrounding the now-familiar unicorn statue and the colt, now slumped at the statue’s feet. Their murmurs draw him in closer among their ranks, straining his ears to listen…
Tempus. The Relic.
He jerks his head up, tasting the wind coming off the ocean. He remembers the last time the Relic had appeared - he had been just a boy still, and the merchants he traveled with told him he was lucky to have been around for the hunt. The Relic is rare, they had told him, you’ll likely only see its appearance once in your lifetime…
And yet here it was again - supposedly. His blood is racing, singing sweetly in his ears, and for a moment all he can see is green, the green of the ivy from the bridge, so similar to the green of that long-ago maze that he wonders now how he had missed the connection. The Relic is back.
Even as others move around him he is still, eyes trained upon the unicorn. He creeps closer now, as if hoping the statue might hold another clue.
It reminds him of Florentine, and her dagger that can cut into the hearts of new worlds; she had asked him to see a world with her not long ago, when they stood beneath the ruined trees of Viride and Po had grown a small meadow of flowers. It hadn’t been the time then, there had been too many conflicts that he couldn’t abandon, yet he agreed nonetheless.
Has that time come? he finds himself wondering now, as the shadows of the forest close in around him. Is this world like others she’s seen?
He wishes she were here now; Ipomoea has so many questions burning inside of him, begging for answers. Yet all he can do is wander amongst the trees, all he can do is watch and listen and wait -
- a colt goes flying past him, kicking up sand and leaves in his wake.
For a moment Ipomoea watches after him, stunned. He half expected a creature to come flying out from between the trees in pursuit, and yet all around him the world was still, save for the muted thunder of hooves racing towards the beach.
He turns and peers into the vegetation. A pair of cerulean eyes peer back at him, as a strange bird tilts its head and clacks its beak, gesturing in the direction the horse had gone.
Silently, Ipomoea turns and follows at a brisk trot, following the torn up trail the colt had left in his wake.
A few others have already gathered back at the beach by the time Ipomoea arrives, surrounding the now-familiar unicorn statue and the colt, now slumped at the statue’s feet. Their murmurs draw him in closer among their ranks, straining his ears to listen…
Tempus. The Relic.
He jerks his head up, tasting the wind coming off the ocean. He remembers the last time the Relic had appeared - he had been just a boy still, and the merchants he traveled with told him he was lucky to have been around for the hunt. The Relic is rare, they had told him, you’ll likely only see its appearance once in your lifetime…
And yet here it was again - supposedly. His blood is racing, singing sweetly in his ears, and for a moment all he can see is green, the green of the ivy from the bridge, so similar to the green of that long-ago maze that he wonders now how he had missed the connection. The Relic is back.
Even as others move around him he is still, eyes trained upon the unicorn. He creeps closer now, as if hoping the statue might hold another clue.
kind of crappy reply, feel free to include po in your posts!
”here am i!“
”here am i!“
STAFF EDIT***
@ipomoea has rolled a 4! He has been awarded +150 signos.
