I P O M O E A
It is not the island he’s thinking of, when he takes his first step onto the pristine beach. It is a field of jewels, scattered like stars thrown down by the heavens, cast out to live their lives like mortals on the earth. He can still see them in his mind, swimming across his vision until he’s looking out through a rose-hued lens. Their petals are as bright as sunlight, reflecting off cold, carved edges.
He can still feel their touch, the way they had leaned in against his skin as he walked amongst them, the way the wind had made them sing as it passed through their midst. Their song had gone deeper than words, cutting through his heart like a knife and echoing throughout its remains. They had been alive, feeling, knowing; they had sung stories of the heavens and the impermanence of life, even while they had grown upon grasses soaked in the blood of fallen warriors and slain queens.
It had been magic that had cultured them, magic that was as wild and unruly as the gods who wielded it. They had been the first clue that something was not right in Novus.
He supposed it was the same magic that would have created this place.
And even while his own magic reaches out, inspecting the island with its strange flowers and strange birds, the magic of the island is reaching back out to him. It tugs him forward, deeper still into the heart of this strange new world, and he is powerless to stop it (or perhaps he simply didn’t want to.) The trees close in overhead, casting the regent into a depth of shadows so thick they blot out the twilight sky, and not even sound can penetrate the forest. He walks in near-silence on a strangely muted carpet of thick soil, unsure of which direction he’s heading, simply knowing that the magic of the place has convinced him that it’s the right direction, and that’s all it needs to tell him.
He’s not sure how long he walks, or how long he’s alone for, before he finds the doe. She waits amongst the trees, and overhead a single ray of sunlight breaks through the leaves to fall upon her crown.
Her back is turned to him - it is not Ipomoea she waits for.
He comes to a stop, and all at once the pull of the magic dissipates like waves crashing upon the beach. He waits and he watches, wondering if it was the doe he was meant to come for, even if he is not what she came for. Together they stand, she in the sunlight and he in the shadows behind her, as magic thrums in the air around them like a pool that has yet to take form.
She turns her head and looks, at what he cannot see. But she stares and she stares, and he wonders how the intensity of her stare doesn’t burn up the object of her interest in all this time before finally she looks away, moving for the first time since he’s arrived and taking her first step deeper into the forest.
She looks at him only once as she passes, her gaze smoldering and stealing the breath from his very lungs. He’s caught in her eyes, unable to break free for a long second, his chest crying out for air -
- and then she is gone, and the burning fronds she leaves in her wake fills his nose. Only then does he see the bay man, and realizes what she had been waiting for in the forest.
"Asterion," he says with a smile as soft as smoke. It curls at the corner of his lips, taut and nearly hidden. He knows he should be surprised, or at least pretend to be, but he’s not and he can’t. "It seems all of Novus have found their way here. It’s a wonder the island is big enough to hold us all."
He steps forward, so that the sunlight that had crowned the deer strikes his own brow. "It’s good to see you." It’s good to see someone I recognize.
He can still feel their touch, the way they had leaned in against his skin as he walked amongst them, the way the wind had made them sing as it passed through their midst. Their song had gone deeper than words, cutting through his heart like a knife and echoing throughout its remains. They had been alive, feeling, knowing; they had sung stories of the heavens and the impermanence of life, even while they had grown upon grasses soaked in the blood of fallen warriors and slain queens.
It had been magic that had cultured them, magic that was as wild and unruly as the gods who wielded it. They had been the first clue that something was not right in Novus.
He supposed it was the same magic that would have created this place.
And even while his own magic reaches out, inspecting the island with its strange flowers and strange birds, the magic of the island is reaching back out to him. It tugs him forward, deeper still into the heart of this strange new world, and he is powerless to stop it (or perhaps he simply didn’t want to.) The trees close in overhead, casting the regent into a depth of shadows so thick they blot out the twilight sky, and not even sound can penetrate the forest. He walks in near-silence on a strangely muted carpet of thick soil, unsure of which direction he’s heading, simply knowing that the magic of the place has convinced him that it’s the right direction, and that’s all it needs to tell him.
He’s not sure how long he walks, or how long he’s alone for, before he finds the doe. She waits amongst the trees, and overhead a single ray of sunlight breaks through the leaves to fall upon her crown.
Her back is turned to him - it is not Ipomoea she waits for.
He comes to a stop, and all at once the pull of the magic dissipates like waves crashing upon the beach. He waits and he watches, wondering if it was the doe he was meant to come for, even if he is not what she came for. Together they stand, she in the sunlight and he in the shadows behind her, as magic thrums in the air around them like a pool that has yet to take form.
She turns her head and looks, at what he cannot see. But she stares and she stares, and he wonders how the intensity of her stare doesn’t burn up the object of her interest in all this time before finally she looks away, moving for the first time since he’s arrived and taking her first step deeper into the forest.
She looks at him only once as she passes, her gaze smoldering and stealing the breath from his very lungs. He’s caught in her eyes, unable to break free for a long second, his chest crying out for air -
- and then she is gone, and the burning fronds she leaves in her wake fills his nose. Only then does he see the bay man, and realizes what she had been waiting for in the forest.
"Asterion," he says with a smile as soft as smoke. It curls at the corner of his lips, taut and nearly hidden. He knows he should be surprised, or at least pretend to be, but he’s not and he can’t. "It seems all of Novus have found their way here. It’s a wonder the island is big enough to hold us all."
He steps forward, so that the sunlight that had crowned the deer strikes his own brow. "It’s good to see you." It’s good to see someone I recognize.
@asterion xx
”here am i!“
”here am i!“
