TO TRAVEL ON AND TRAVEL LIGHT
to travel deep into the night
It has been a long time since Septimus has felt so desperate.
His breath comes out in heaving white clouds; he is not running long before trails of sweat begin to drip down his neck and flanks, drying and freezing over almost immediately in the bitter chill. Still, Septimus does not stop. He kicks up clouds of glittering snow, catching in the hazy peach light, and he runs, his gaze trained on the glittering orb with such intensity that it could be predatory. (His tongue swipes over the canine points of his teeth.) He has almost caught it, he is sure. Just a few steps now. He is so very close-
And then the light blinks out entirely.
Septimus stumbles to an abrupt halt, his wings flaring out to slow him as his hooves slide forward in the thick, white snow. He swallows a curse, his wings snapping in at his side, and he stares at the spot where the little faerie creature was only a moment before, as though the sheer force of his gaze and his desperate will can force it to rematerialize. It doesn’t, of course. For an excruciatingly long moment, he stands alone amidst a grove of dead trees, little flurries dribbling down from the branches above his head to pool on his antlers.
And then he hears the crunching of snow behind him, as though someone is in pursuit – and he wonders how he didn’t notice the sound before. Septimus turns, his green eyes darting to land on another horse. He is small and dark, with a pair of bird-like wings and a rather vicious glare. He doesn’t know what he’s done to warrant it, but he meets it evenly, even expectantly. What are you doing? the man asks, and it occurs to Septimus, in a bit of a daze – still startled by the creature so like himself and the sudden appearance of this stranger – that he does smell of Delumine, doesn’t he? Perhaps he is another citizen of Dawn. Either way, it cannot have been too terribly long since he left the Daybreak Court, and perhaps that is why he relaxes just a hair, tossing a glance over his shoulder in the direction that the creature fizzled out of existence. He can still pick out the spot.
“I’m-“ Septimus tries to think of a way to explain himself that doesn’t make him sound completely insane. He doesn’t look quite like he should, without his magic, and he has no way of proving what he was before he lost it. He can’t quite say that oh, I believe that those floating orbs of shifting light that you might have seen happen to be cousins of mine, so he grasps for another, more plausible answer instead. “I’m trying to communicate with one of the creatures on this island. I believe it’s intelligent, and I’m a naturalist – I study all kinds of living things.” It’s a reasonable enough explanation, he supposes, and he can probably chalk up the feverish glint in his eye to scientific fervor, rather than desperation.
He hopes that he can chalk it up to that.
@Andras || <3
"Speech!"
to travel deep into the night
It has been a long time since Septimus has felt so desperate.
His breath comes out in heaving white clouds; he is not running long before trails of sweat begin to drip down his neck and flanks, drying and freezing over almost immediately in the bitter chill. Still, Septimus does not stop. He kicks up clouds of glittering snow, catching in the hazy peach light, and he runs, his gaze trained on the glittering orb with such intensity that it could be predatory. (His tongue swipes over the canine points of his teeth.) He has almost caught it, he is sure. Just a few steps now. He is so very close-
And then the light blinks out entirely.
Septimus stumbles to an abrupt halt, his wings flaring out to slow him as his hooves slide forward in the thick, white snow. He swallows a curse, his wings snapping in at his side, and he stares at the spot where the little faerie creature was only a moment before, as though the sheer force of his gaze and his desperate will can force it to rematerialize. It doesn’t, of course. For an excruciatingly long moment, he stands alone amidst a grove of dead trees, little flurries dribbling down from the branches above his head to pool on his antlers.
And then he hears the crunching of snow behind him, as though someone is in pursuit – and he wonders how he didn’t notice the sound before. Septimus turns, his green eyes darting to land on another horse. He is small and dark, with a pair of bird-like wings and a rather vicious glare. He doesn’t know what he’s done to warrant it, but he meets it evenly, even expectantly. What are you doing? the man asks, and it occurs to Septimus, in a bit of a daze – still startled by the creature so like himself and the sudden appearance of this stranger – that he does smell of Delumine, doesn’t he? Perhaps he is another citizen of Dawn. Either way, it cannot have been too terribly long since he left the Daybreak Court, and perhaps that is why he relaxes just a hair, tossing a glance over his shoulder in the direction that the creature fizzled out of existence. He can still pick out the spot.
“I’m-“ Septimus tries to think of a way to explain himself that doesn’t make him sound completely insane. He doesn’t look quite like he should, without his magic, and he has no way of proving what he was before he lost it. He can’t quite say that oh, I believe that those floating orbs of shifting light that you might have seen happen to be cousins of mine, so he grasps for another, more plausible answer instead. “I’m trying to communicate with one of the creatures on this island. I believe it’s intelligent, and I’m a naturalist – I study all kinds of living things.” It’s a reasonable enough explanation, he supposes, and he can probably chalk up the feverish glint in his eye to scientific fervor, rather than desperation.
He hopes that he can chalk it up to that.
@
"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
