I P O M O E A
He lifts his chin as the chestnut begins to speak, a subtle shift that changes his entire demeanor, if only slightly. Something about his eyes harden, a glint of determination hiding in the shadows.
He was not expecting an easy answer. It had never been a possibility, not when he had already crossed a world and found nothing but a tangled pathway that eventually led back to where he had started. Ipomoea knew now that there was nothing quick about changing history; Raum’s dictatorship had taught him that. Change was always brimming just below the surface, sometimes wild, sometimes demure, but always present. The trick was in guiding that change.
Past rulers had let that change go by unnoticed in Delumine, had allowed it to take root among the citizens until they were wrapped within its vice-like grip. It had taken leaving for him to see that, to see the way the rest of the world continued to learn and grow while his own home appeared to regress, to grow in upon itself instead of out.
He had never planned to pave the way alone - Ipomoea would never be a ruler who distanced himself from his people, who asked them to go without going along beside them.
“That is all I ask,” he says, as softly as the sound of leaves falling in the forest.
The more eyes he had, the more minds who sought out the solution, the more likely they were to find one. Seir was a part of the land, a part of Delumine in a way Ipomoea was not. He was grounding, in a way that was comforting and strengthening. He was what Ipomoea needed by his side.
And as much as Seir might try to downplay his experience, it was experience that Ipomoea needed most, experience that had prompted him to choose the antlered man.
He can’t help but fidget as the newly-made Regent bows before him, inclining his head in a silent sign of gratitude. Senna’s words came to him then, unprompted and unwelcome. If you really wanted to help us -
What the red man hadn’t known then, perhaps still did not know, was the ember that had been struck over Ipomoea the moment he had chosen to leave his home, the slowly-smoldering fires that now filled his chest. What Senna did not know was that Ipomoea was willing - to kill a king, to lay down his life, to be the spark. It had never been about himself.
It had been about the people.
“We have much to get started on,” he says, and at last he comes forward to press his muzzle against the stallion’s side. ”Are you well acquainted with the library out in Viride?” Sunlight is streaming in through the window, anointing the two of them with golden halos, limning them in light. Ipomoea smiles, and turns his head to the door.
“Thankfully, we are in the perfect place to find the answer, if such a thing exists.”
Where better to start to search for it than within Delumine, where there was never a shortage of study materials?
He was not expecting an easy answer. It had never been a possibility, not when he had already crossed a world and found nothing but a tangled pathway that eventually led back to where he had started. Ipomoea knew now that there was nothing quick about changing history; Raum’s dictatorship had taught him that. Change was always brimming just below the surface, sometimes wild, sometimes demure, but always present. The trick was in guiding that change.
Past rulers had let that change go by unnoticed in Delumine, had allowed it to take root among the citizens until they were wrapped within its vice-like grip. It had taken leaving for him to see that, to see the way the rest of the world continued to learn and grow while his own home appeared to regress, to grow in upon itself instead of out.
He had never planned to pave the way alone - Ipomoea would never be a ruler who distanced himself from his people, who asked them to go without going along beside them.
“That is all I ask,” he says, as softly as the sound of leaves falling in the forest.
The more eyes he had, the more minds who sought out the solution, the more likely they were to find one. Seir was a part of the land, a part of Delumine in a way Ipomoea was not. He was grounding, in a way that was comforting and strengthening. He was what Ipomoea needed by his side.
And as much as Seir might try to downplay his experience, it was experience that Ipomoea needed most, experience that had prompted him to choose the antlered man.
He can’t help but fidget as the newly-made Regent bows before him, inclining his head in a silent sign of gratitude. Senna’s words came to him then, unprompted and unwelcome. If you really wanted to help us -
What the red man hadn’t known then, perhaps still did not know, was the ember that had been struck over Ipomoea the moment he had chosen to leave his home, the slowly-smoldering fires that now filled his chest. What Senna did not know was that Ipomoea was willing - to kill a king, to lay down his life, to be the spark. It had never been about himself.
It had been about the people.
“We have much to get started on,” he says, and at last he comes forward to press his muzzle against the stallion’s side. ”Are you well acquainted with the library out in Viride?” Sunlight is streaming in through the window, anointing the two of them with golden halos, limning them in light. Ipomoea smiles, and turns his head to the door.
“Thankfully, we are in the perfect place to find the answer, if such a thing exists.”
Where better to start to search for it than within Delumine, where there was never a shortage of study materials?
