UNCOVER OUR HEADS & REVEAL OUR SOULS--
She looks at him, and her eyes are like the ocean – they are so blue. Septimus thinks that he could drown in eyes like hers, dense and dark with a meaning that he can’t quite discern. There are storms, there, and flashes of lightning, and he wonders for a moment what kind of a woman houses a storm inside of her skin, and what put it there in the first place. “I am hunting for an old friend,” she says, and her tone suggests that he shouldn’t bother to push her on the subject, strange as her answer seems; there is something to the way that she stands in the crowd, a lone bastion against the passerby, that makes him think that she is a solitary creature, untethered to any sort of companion.
Perhaps, he thinks, that is only because she hasn’t found that friend of hers yet.
In any case, she is out-of-place. He feels like she shouldn’t be here, among these crowded, incense-filled city streets; he imagines her like a tiger, deep in the jungle, low to the mossy ground. “And you? Is there something you wish to see hunted?” The question surprises him, but not so much as the way her eyes – distinctly predatory, and nearly humming with anticipation – gleam in the firelight, as though they are burning.
“I don’t know,” he admits. “There’s something I’m searching for, but I’m not sure that I can hunt for it.” He pauses for a moment, as though he is considering whether or not to tell her the truth, and sighs. “When I fell into this land – by accident – I lost…a bit of my soul. My magic, if you will. I’m not sure how to get it back.” That is true, but it is only a part of The Truth, which is that Septimus is looking for something far greater in scope than his magic. He is searching for a reason to stop wandering, a place that won’t carve him into two; simply put, he is searching for a home, even though he already has one. But the forest only houses his fae-blood, his wildling half, and there are tender, mortal parts for him that long for somewhere to rest, as mortal things, he’s noted, are want to do.
He tilts his head at her, then, dark wisps of mane falling into his eyes. “But I suppose that lays the groundwork for an extensive hunt – I’ve heard there are plenty of strange, magical beasts and eldritch locations in this land to search, and-“ his lips curl in the barest hint of suspicion, and, when he speaks the next word, there is more than a hint of disbelief in his tone, “-physical gods.”
@Antiope || <3
"Speech!"
She looks at him, and her eyes are like the ocean – they are so blue. Septimus thinks that he could drown in eyes like hers, dense and dark with a meaning that he can’t quite discern. There are storms, there, and flashes of lightning, and he wonders for a moment what kind of a woman houses a storm inside of her skin, and what put it there in the first place. “I am hunting for an old friend,” she says, and her tone suggests that he shouldn’t bother to push her on the subject, strange as her answer seems; there is something to the way that she stands in the crowd, a lone bastion against the passerby, that makes him think that she is a solitary creature, untethered to any sort of companion.
Perhaps, he thinks, that is only because she hasn’t found that friend of hers yet.
In any case, she is out-of-place. He feels like she shouldn’t be here, among these crowded, incense-filled city streets; he imagines her like a tiger, deep in the jungle, low to the mossy ground. “And you? Is there something you wish to see hunted?” The question surprises him, but not so much as the way her eyes – distinctly predatory, and nearly humming with anticipation – gleam in the firelight, as though they are burning.
“I don’t know,” he admits. “There’s something I’m searching for, but I’m not sure that I can hunt for it.” He pauses for a moment, as though he is considering whether or not to tell her the truth, and sighs. “When I fell into this land – by accident – I lost…a bit of my soul. My magic, if you will. I’m not sure how to get it back.” That is true, but it is only a part of The Truth, which is that Septimus is looking for something far greater in scope than his magic. He is searching for a reason to stop wandering, a place that won’t carve him into two; simply put, he is searching for a home, even though he already has one. But the forest only houses his fae-blood, his wildling half, and there are tender, mortal parts for him that long for somewhere to rest, as mortal things, he’s noted, are want to do.
He tilts his head at her, then, dark wisps of mane falling into his eyes. “But I suppose that lays the groundwork for an extensive hunt – I’ve heard there are plenty of strange, magical beasts and eldritch locations in this land to search, and-“ his lips curl in the barest hint of suspicion, and, when he speaks the next word, there is more than a hint of disbelief in his tone, “-physical gods.”
@Antiope || <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
