there's no going back
when you cross the line
Perhaps if Septimus had reached out, the boy might have found some comfort in it - -how long had it been since someone had touched him in a comforting way, in the way a friend might? The last contact he’d had was when Vik had tattooed the scarab onto his chest, and that, well -- that hadn’t exactly been friendly, so to speak. The older horse had been downright hostile, truthfully, and he’s somewhat afraid to even approach him again for fear of upsetting him once more.when you cross the line
At least Septimus didn’t seem to mind his company, although he was never entirely sure what exactly the antlered man was thinking -- he seemed comfortable, at least, and he had asked a question, so clearly he must want the conversation to continue…. Oh. It had been that question. It was, at least, marginally better than the question about his magic, he supposed.
“...a place called Caeleste, far from here.” He answers, the tip of his tail twitching once more -- back and forth it jerks, agitated by the mere mention of his homeland, and he cannot help the way that when he says Caeleste, what he hears is Winnifred, what he hears is that he can never go back until he manages to gain control of the curse that he was given. “They had Gods, as well -- but they were aligned to the seasons, not to Time itself, and each of them had specific types of magic that they would hand out to those they deemed worthy.”
He still doesn’t understand why Shishira -- cruel Shishira, god of late winter, god of chaos -- had chosen him to bless. Why had the god picked out one newborn child to give this curse to, to forever throw his life into a spiral, to forever mean that his life would not be his own until he learned to control it?
It was, certainly, a cruel trick.
“Are you from here?”
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