There are so many parts of the stallion that catches his attention, from his captivating green eyes to the broad, many-tined antlers crowning his brow. A tangle of gemstones hung from their points, and when the pegasus shook his head they knocked gently against one another and produced a soft chiming sound.
Ipomoea hardly noticed his white-tipped wings or his earthy bay coloring, already so preoccupied with examining the rest of the eccentric looking stranger.
He takes another curious step forward, so that the two are sharing the same space.
”I’ve been engrossed,” the bay man admits, and Ipomoea’s eyes flicker down to the still open book laid out before him. It’s a thick volume, and he believes he can make out the name of the Tinea Swamp somewhere near the top of the page. But the rest is a sea of black-on-white words, tiny lettering that swims together in a blur across the page. He might have asked what the green-eyed stranger was reading - whether it was a history or a fable, or perhaps a collection of short stories or a compendium of plants - but he doesn’t get a chance to. The stranger continues on, opening a conversation between them.
Ipomoea lifts his gaze from the book, and their eyes are like two gemstones meeting, cherry topaz and an intense emerald.
His ears flick forward inquisitively at the other’s admission, instantly engrossed. A teleportation spell? From somewhere outside of Novus? Ipomoea had never been to any other worlds before; his entire life had been spent here between the four Courts, despite hearing from many other horses who had seemed to stumble into his home.
“That’s quite the arrival,” he mused, his tone still hushed in respect of the library. Of course, he couldn’t complain that he had landed here, instead. "Where were you trying to go?"
“Septimus,” he repeats, rolling the syllables across his tongue, filing the name away in his mind. It fits you, he thinks to himself, although he can’t explain why. Something about the name simply matches the stallion, in the way leaves match a tree, or flowers a field. “I’m Ipomoea.” He dips his head with another smile, and now that they’re acquainted, steps forward without shame to stand closer besides the antlered man.
“Have you been here long, then? In Novus, that is? I hope you’re enjoying your stay thus far, even if it was an unintentional visit.” A thousand questions are already forming themselves in his mind - Ipomoea wants to know everything. He wants to ask about the world he’s come from, the worlds he’s seen, the world he meant to see. Were they larger than Novus, or smaller? Did the same plants grow in them that grew here? Florentine had promised to pick flowers from another world with him once, so he assumed the flora and faunas must be different between worlds, at least to some extent.
The “outside world,” as many of Novus’ residents referred to the lands beyond their shores, was simultaneously compelling and terrifying. There was no way of knowing just how many worlds were out there, waiting to be discovered and explored.
And the teleportation spell he mentioned certainly sounded like an efficient way of exploring them - when it worked correctly, that is.
Ipomoea hardly noticed his white-tipped wings or his earthy bay coloring, already so preoccupied with examining the rest of the eccentric looking stranger.
He takes another curious step forward, so that the two are sharing the same space.
”I’ve been engrossed,” the bay man admits, and Ipomoea’s eyes flicker down to the still open book laid out before him. It’s a thick volume, and he believes he can make out the name of the Tinea Swamp somewhere near the top of the page. But the rest is a sea of black-on-white words, tiny lettering that swims together in a blur across the page. He might have asked what the green-eyed stranger was reading - whether it was a history or a fable, or perhaps a collection of short stories or a compendium of plants - but he doesn’t get a chance to. The stranger continues on, opening a conversation between them.
Ipomoea lifts his gaze from the book, and their eyes are like two gemstones meeting, cherry topaz and an intense emerald.
His ears flick forward inquisitively at the other’s admission, instantly engrossed. A teleportation spell? From somewhere outside of Novus? Ipomoea had never been to any other worlds before; his entire life had been spent here between the four Courts, despite hearing from many other horses who had seemed to stumble into his home.
“That’s quite the arrival,” he mused, his tone still hushed in respect of the library. Of course, he couldn’t complain that he had landed here, instead. "Where were you trying to go?"
“Septimus,” he repeats, rolling the syllables across his tongue, filing the name away in his mind. It fits you, he thinks to himself, although he can’t explain why. Something about the name simply matches the stallion, in the way leaves match a tree, or flowers a field. “I’m Ipomoea.” He dips his head with another smile, and now that they’re acquainted, steps forward without shame to stand closer besides the antlered man.
“Have you been here long, then? In Novus, that is? I hope you’re enjoying your stay thus far, even if it was an unintentional visit.” A thousand questions are already forming themselves in his mind - Ipomoea wants to know everything. He wants to ask about the world he’s come from, the worlds he’s seen, the world he meant to see. Were they larger than Novus, or smaller? Did the same plants grow in them that grew here? Florentine had promised to pick flowers from another world with him once, so he assumed the flora and faunas must be different between worlds, at least to some extent.
The “outside world,” as many of Novus’ residents referred to the lands beyond their shores, was simultaneously compelling and terrifying. There was no way of knowing just how many worlds were out there, waiting to be discovered and explored.
And the teleportation spell he mentioned certainly sounded like an efficient way of exploring them - when it worked correctly, that is.
we are here
to laugh
at the odds
and live our lives
so well
that
death will tremble
to take us
@
”here am i!“
