BE BOLD, BE BOLD
BUT NOT TOO BOLD
The man steps forward, close enough to look at the contents of the book he’d been reading; his eyes dart down to the pages, then back up to meet his gaze. He is a striking creature, Septimus thinks, and not just in coloration – his eyes are the lush cherry-pink of deep jungle flowers, which he would expect to find blooming on a vine in some tropical rainforest. He asks him where he was trying to go, before he landed in Novus.
“A land called Svarstell,” Septimus says; his eyes remain trained on Ipomoea, but his gaze is strangely distant, as though he is looking past him – past the walls of the library, or the borders of Denocte, or the furthest stretches of Novus. “It is currently consumed by an eternal winter, which has coated the entire kingdom in ice and snow – a curse from one of the fae. I thought that I might be able to assist them in breaking it.” Septimus doesn’t specify why. This Novus didn’t seem to have fae, but he has been to lands where his bloodline would be as good as a death sentence if his otherworldly heritage were revealed; best to keep quiet, until he knows a bit more about this land’s culture.
The man introduces himself as Ipomoea. Septimus nods, dipping his head in turn and returning his smile with a warm one of his own, though his lips do not pull far enough to show his carnivorous teeth. “Ipomoea – it’s a pleasure to meet you. Are you from Denocte, or somewhere else?” The name of the kingdom still slides off his tongue a bit oddly, but he chooses to ignore it. He has heard a bit of the other courts, and, from what he has discerned the borders in this land are almost universally open; it would not be so strange to encounter travelers from other places in the Night Kingdom. A large part of Septimus hopes that he answers in the affirmative. In the short time he’s spent in Novus, he has only encountered citizens from Denocte, and he would like to hear more of the other kingdoms. What he seeks could well be in one of them, not here.
He asks him if he’s been here long and enjoyed his stay in spite of the circumstances; a polite creature, this Ipomoea. “Not long at all. A couple of weeks; barely enough to get my bearings.” If he’d been in Novus any longer, Septimus likes to think that he would have already gone out exploring, rather than remaining in the – relative, for Denocte seemed to have a rather substantial criminal underbelly (a portion of which had been his hosts) – safety of Denocte’s capitol. “This land is beautiful, though I have yet to venture out from the Night Court. I can’t believe I’ve never encountered tales of it in my travels.” Indeed, this Novus seems strangely isolated. He has been assured that the population is relatively large, and full of travelers from other worlds. (He wonders if this land keeps travelers, in some form or fashion; he has encountered lands which have tried to hold their citizens captive, and this could well be one of them. Those were less of a problem. They never drained him of his immortality, so he had plenty of time to devise a chance to escape.)
Of course – there were countless worlds which begged to be explore. He’d be a fool if he thought he knew everything, in spite of how long he’d lived, in spite of how much he traveled. After all, if he did, there would be no point in travelling at all.
@Ipomoea || <3
"Speech!"
BUT NOT TOO BOLD
The man steps forward, close enough to look at the contents of the book he’d been reading; his eyes dart down to the pages, then back up to meet his gaze. He is a striking creature, Septimus thinks, and not just in coloration – his eyes are the lush cherry-pink of deep jungle flowers, which he would expect to find blooming on a vine in some tropical rainforest. He asks him where he was trying to go, before he landed in Novus.
“A land called Svarstell,” Septimus says; his eyes remain trained on Ipomoea, but his gaze is strangely distant, as though he is looking past him – past the walls of the library, or the borders of Denocte, or the furthest stretches of Novus. “It is currently consumed by an eternal winter, which has coated the entire kingdom in ice and snow – a curse from one of the fae. I thought that I might be able to assist them in breaking it.” Septimus doesn’t specify why. This Novus didn’t seem to have fae, but he has been to lands where his bloodline would be as good as a death sentence if his otherworldly heritage were revealed; best to keep quiet, until he knows a bit more about this land’s culture.
The man introduces himself as Ipomoea. Septimus nods, dipping his head in turn and returning his smile with a warm one of his own, though his lips do not pull far enough to show his carnivorous teeth. “Ipomoea – it’s a pleasure to meet you. Are you from Denocte, or somewhere else?” The name of the kingdom still slides off his tongue a bit oddly, but he chooses to ignore it. He has heard a bit of the other courts, and, from what he has discerned the borders in this land are almost universally open; it would not be so strange to encounter travelers from other places in the Night Kingdom. A large part of Septimus hopes that he answers in the affirmative. In the short time he’s spent in Novus, he has only encountered citizens from Denocte, and he would like to hear more of the other kingdoms. What he seeks could well be in one of them, not here.
He asks him if he’s been here long and enjoyed his stay in spite of the circumstances; a polite creature, this Ipomoea. “Not long at all. A couple of weeks; barely enough to get my bearings.” If he’d been in Novus any longer, Septimus likes to think that he would have already gone out exploring, rather than remaining in the – relative, for Denocte seemed to have a rather substantial criminal underbelly (a portion of which had been his hosts) – safety of Denocte’s capitol. “This land is beautiful, though I have yet to venture out from the Night Court. I can’t believe I’ve never encountered tales of it in my travels.” Indeed, this Novus seems strangely isolated. He has been assured that the population is relatively large, and full of travelers from other worlds. (He wonders if this land keeps travelers, in some form or fashion; he has encountered lands which have tried to hold their citizens captive, and this could well be one of them. Those were less of a problem. They never drained him of his immortality, so he had plenty of time to devise a chance to escape.)
Of course – there were countless worlds which begged to be explore. He’d be a fool if he thought he knew everything, in spite of how long he’d lived, in spite of how much he traveled. After all, if he did, there would be no point in travelling at all.
@Ipomoea || <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
