S E P T I M U S
the labyrinths of green / pit against all the world’s hungering.
Septimus is up early this morning.
Chiefly, what wakes him – with the dawn – is anticipation. Though he has technically resided within Delumine for many moons, now, he has spent relatively little time in the court. He only knows a few other individuals who are affiliated (in one way or another) with the Dawn Court, and he has spent very little time affiliating with the court himself. When the new sovereign, the man who’d sent him to Delumine in the first place, was crowned, he was miles upon miles away, studying some sort of strange tree in Terrastella. He was a naturalist, after all, which meant he had to do plenty of fieldwork, and he never intended to stay in – or arrive in, for that matter – Novus to begin with. It seemed unreasonable to spend too much time focusing on courtly affairs. His priorities were elsewhere, chasing after strange creatures or phenomena or his woefully-missing magic. It wasn’t lonely work, either. He met plenty of fascinating strangers in his travels, and there were always more to meet – as many, he was sure, as there were strange and new creatures and places to encounter on this continent. Best to take advantage of the situation that fate (or, rather, an unfortunate mathematical error) had thrown him into. He has always been good at handling whatever misfortunes that life has thrown his way.
The anxiety did not creep in until fall.
He was – mortal, now. Whether he liked it or not. He didn’t know how long he’d be mortal; he didn’t know if he’d ever be himself again. He needed to get used to it, and he needed to get used to living a life in the way that – mortals – lived their lives. That meant spending a bit less of his (limited) time in the field and a bit more around other people, or so he’d been told. (A fulfilling life, he’d been informed, was one that was not lived alone.) That meant at least making the attempt to find a place for himself in Delumine. Unfortunately, he’d never lingered in any one place for long enough to discern how to do that.
Fortunately, he didn’t have to.
To his surprise, he’d been working when he’d been greeted by a group of black rabbits. To his further surprise, they bore a message from Delumine’s new Emissary, who claimed to have need of him for something regarding Viride Forest. Septimus had no clue what he was needed for, or how she’d found him in the first place, but he was somewhat elated at the opportunity to do something, so he put any suspicions he might have had aside for the moment. It would be a chance to do something for Delumine, and, considering how little he knew of the court, any opportunity to involve himself was valuable.
It was with that thought in mind that he strode into the court that morning, making his way quickly to the place where he was supposed to meet with her. The air was crisp and cool, and, were he more enamored with winter, as he had been when he was still immortal, he might have found it refreshing. As it were, he tried to focus on the livelier scents – on bakers and tea-makers and the wafting scent of coffee and spices that permeated the market streets.
He is vaguely aware of a commotion behind him, and he turns his head to gaze over his shoulder; his eyes catch on a grey mare, in some sort of complication with a man. (All eyes on the street had turned to stare at them.) They were too far away, and he could not make out what they were saying. It didn’t matter, he decided, because she seemed to deal with the situation quickly and then strode on in his direction…
And then right up to him.
She introduces herself as Emersyn, the Emissary, and the one who sent the rabbits. (It would explain what seems to have scared that man off.) Her physique is capable. Androgynous. She is certainly far from delicate. Her coat and hair are monochromatic, a meddling of greys and whites, but her eyes are stark, deep blue. They are not the color of ice, or the color of a sky. He is not sure what shade of blue he could compare them to – they are closest, he thinks, to certain gemstones (a cornflower blue sapphire, perhaps), and just as hard. They are briefly warm, in the most fractional way, and then cold again.
“Emersyn,” he repeats, with a nod of his head; a warm smile spreads across his lips. (He delights in most any kind of company.) “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Your rabbits were quite impressive.” In spite of his emphasis on the quite, there is not a hint of derision in his tone; he sounds genuinely impressed, likely because he is. He has spent enough time studying rabbits to know that attentiveness and obedience are not their best qualities, and he cannot imagine the time and patience that went into training her rabbit-messengers. (Frankly, he isn’t sure that he wants to – he tries not to think too much of time, lately. Not when he is suddenly so painfully aware of it.) He can appreciate anyone who is willing to put so much care and effort into such flighty little creatures; the memory of the trio of fuzzy black rabbits bounding up to him while he was in the middle of painting one melancholy scene or another would be enough to make him smile, if he weren’t smiling already. They’d been clumsy, and somewhat disoriented, but they’d managed to get their message across, in the end. He found them charming, and he was sure to give them all pats on the head (with the joint of his wing) before they went bounding back to their caretaker.
She offers him tea. And answers. He dips his head appreciatively, sending the jewels on his antlers clinking.
“Tea would be lovely, thank you,” he says, following her gaze to the baker. “…And so would an explanation. I’m happy to help with whatever Delumine needs, but I am curious about what the assignment is…” And how fliers related to the forest, at that.
(Still. Anything to be of use.)
tags | @Emersyn
notes | <3
"speech"
the labyrinths of green / pit against all the world’s hungering.
Septimus is up early this morning.
Chiefly, what wakes him – with the dawn – is anticipation. Though he has technically resided within Delumine for many moons, now, he has spent relatively little time in the court. He only knows a few other individuals who are affiliated (in one way or another) with the Dawn Court, and he has spent very little time affiliating with the court himself. When the new sovereign, the man who’d sent him to Delumine in the first place, was crowned, he was miles upon miles away, studying some sort of strange tree in Terrastella. He was a naturalist, after all, which meant he had to do plenty of fieldwork, and he never intended to stay in – or arrive in, for that matter – Novus to begin with. It seemed unreasonable to spend too much time focusing on courtly affairs. His priorities were elsewhere, chasing after strange creatures or phenomena or his woefully-missing magic. It wasn’t lonely work, either. He met plenty of fascinating strangers in his travels, and there were always more to meet – as many, he was sure, as there were strange and new creatures and places to encounter on this continent. Best to take advantage of the situation that fate (or, rather, an unfortunate mathematical error) had thrown him into. He has always been good at handling whatever misfortunes that life has thrown his way.
The anxiety did not creep in until fall.
He was – mortal, now. Whether he liked it or not. He didn’t know how long he’d be mortal; he didn’t know if he’d ever be himself again. He needed to get used to it, and he needed to get used to living a life in the way that – mortals – lived their lives. That meant spending a bit less of his (limited) time in the field and a bit more around other people, or so he’d been told. (A fulfilling life, he’d been informed, was one that was not lived alone.) That meant at least making the attempt to find a place for himself in Delumine. Unfortunately, he’d never lingered in any one place for long enough to discern how to do that.
Fortunately, he didn’t have to.
To his surprise, he’d been working when he’d been greeted by a group of black rabbits. To his further surprise, they bore a message from Delumine’s new Emissary, who claimed to have need of him for something regarding Viride Forest. Septimus had no clue what he was needed for, or how she’d found him in the first place, but he was somewhat elated at the opportunity to do something, so he put any suspicions he might have had aside for the moment. It would be a chance to do something for Delumine, and, considering how little he knew of the court, any opportunity to involve himself was valuable.
It was with that thought in mind that he strode into the court that morning, making his way quickly to the place where he was supposed to meet with her. The air was crisp and cool, and, were he more enamored with winter, as he had been when he was still immortal, he might have found it refreshing. As it were, he tried to focus on the livelier scents – on bakers and tea-makers and the wafting scent of coffee and spices that permeated the market streets.
He is vaguely aware of a commotion behind him, and he turns his head to gaze over his shoulder; his eyes catch on a grey mare, in some sort of complication with a man. (All eyes on the street had turned to stare at them.) They were too far away, and he could not make out what they were saying. It didn’t matter, he decided, because she seemed to deal with the situation quickly and then strode on in his direction…
And then right up to him.
She introduces herself as Emersyn, the Emissary, and the one who sent the rabbits. (It would explain what seems to have scared that man off.) Her physique is capable. Androgynous. She is certainly far from delicate. Her coat and hair are monochromatic, a meddling of greys and whites, but her eyes are stark, deep blue. They are not the color of ice, or the color of a sky. He is not sure what shade of blue he could compare them to – they are closest, he thinks, to certain gemstones (a cornflower blue sapphire, perhaps), and just as hard. They are briefly warm, in the most fractional way, and then cold again.
“Emersyn,” he repeats, with a nod of his head; a warm smile spreads across his lips. (He delights in most any kind of company.) “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Your rabbits were quite impressive.” In spite of his emphasis on the quite, there is not a hint of derision in his tone; he sounds genuinely impressed, likely because he is. He has spent enough time studying rabbits to know that attentiveness and obedience are not their best qualities, and he cannot imagine the time and patience that went into training her rabbit-messengers. (Frankly, he isn’t sure that he wants to – he tries not to think too much of time, lately. Not when he is suddenly so painfully aware of it.) He can appreciate anyone who is willing to put so much care and effort into such flighty little creatures; the memory of the trio of fuzzy black rabbits bounding up to him while he was in the middle of painting one melancholy scene or another would be enough to make him smile, if he weren’t smiling already. They’d been clumsy, and somewhat disoriented, but they’d managed to get their message across, in the end. He found them charming, and he was sure to give them all pats on the head (with the joint of his wing) before they went bounding back to their caretaker.
She offers him tea. And answers. He dips his head appreciatively, sending the jewels on his antlers clinking.
“Tea would be lovely, thank you,” he says, following her gaze to the baker. “…And so would an explanation. I’m happy to help with whatever Delumine needs, but I am curious about what the assignment is…” And how fliers related to the forest, at that.
(Still. Anything to be of use.)
tags | @
notes | <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
