TO TRAVEL ON AND TRAVEL LIGHT
to travel deep into the night
He has not been standing amidst the glowing lights for so long when he becomes aware of the sound of hooves crunching against dry snow, the particular rhythm that suggests the approach of someone else. He doesn’t tear his eyes away from the scene before him until he is absolutely sure that the stranger is coming close, however – very close, and even then his turn is slow, as though he hesitates to tear his eyes away from the dancing lights and the full moon in the sky above. (Some part of him worries that the creatures will disappear as quickly as they came, that if he lets himself look away, they will leave him in the dark. It would be very like his family to pull that kind of trick and leave you wondering if you had ever seen them dancing in the dark of the woods at all.) He shifts, shaking the snow from his wings, and he glances in the direction of the sound. The moonlight is to his back. It almost feels regrettable, but he tells himself that whoever is emerging from the woods might be worth the glance.
It is easy to spot the emerging figure, if only because of the glow emanating from between her antlers. She is, Septimus quickly discerns, fascinating – certainly fascinating enough to warrant momentary distraction.
Her coat gleams like the night sky, the star-like markings and glossy sheen accentuated by the dancing lights; she is a patchwork of blues, deepest navy with stripes of something paler and more ghostly with just enough white – on her legs and her face – to make her interesting. Her form is graceful and lithe, with eyes that seem to shift with the light like precious stones, and her antlers are as impressive as his own, but with one more detail. It is that he finds the most striking, the full moon suspended between her monochromatic antlers; it gives off a healthy glow all its own, and, when he looks at it closely, in spite of its brightness, he realizes that it seems to have a patchwork of craters, just like the real moon. Fascinating. He’ll have to ask her what kind of magic created such an elaborate illusion. He wonders if he can reach out and touch it.
She approaches him, quick and close. He doesn’t stop her. This place is absolutely breathtaking, isn’t it? He couldn’t agree more.
“It’s stunning,” he agrees, though something in her tone – or her posture, perhaps – makes him wonder if he should add and so are you, because it seems like she would want to hear it. She leans forward, and, though he does not turn to watch her do it, he feels her toy with his mane; he suppresses a shiver at the contact, the sudden warm against cold, turning his head instead to gaze at her with amused, amused green eyes.
She’s quite young, he decides, and quite sure of herself. It is not a terrible thing to be; caution is as much a hamper as it is a blessing, and, though he was eternally youthful because of his magic, it did not stop him from aging in awareness. Vaeri, she introduces herself, but you can call me Vae. She asks him what he knows of the island.
“Vae,” he repeats, a smile growing across his lips. It is not quite broad enough to show his teeth. “I’m Septimus. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” At his question, he appears to think for a minute, then says, “I only know a bit – it is a very strange place, too strange to make sense of. Did you come here the first time that it rose up from the sea?” He tilts his head at her, the jewels on his antlers clinking rhythmically with the movement; her answer will inform his answer, he thinks.
@Vaeri || <3
"Speech!"
to travel deep into the night
He has not been standing amidst the glowing lights for so long when he becomes aware of the sound of hooves crunching against dry snow, the particular rhythm that suggests the approach of someone else. He doesn’t tear his eyes away from the scene before him until he is absolutely sure that the stranger is coming close, however – very close, and even then his turn is slow, as though he hesitates to tear his eyes away from the dancing lights and the full moon in the sky above. (Some part of him worries that the creatures will disappear as quickly as they came, that if he lets himself look away, they will leave him in the dark. It would be very like his family to pull that kind of trick and leave you wondering if you had ever seen them dancing in the dark of the woods at all.) He shifts, shaking the snow from his wings, and he glances in the direction of the sound. The moonlight is to his back. It almost feels regrettable, but he tells himself that whoever is emerging from the woods might be worth the glance.
It is easy to spot the emerging figure, if only because of the glow emanating from between her antlers. She is, Septimus quickly discerns, fascinating – certainly fascinating enough to warrant momentary distraction.
Her coat gleams like the night sky, the star-like markings and glossy sheen accentuated by the dancing lights; she is a patchwork of blues, deepest navy with stripes of something paler and more ghostly with just enough white – on her legs and her face – to make her interesting. Her form is graceful and lithe, with eyes that seem to shift with the light like precious stones, and her antlers are as impressive as his own, but with one more detail. It is that he finds the most striking, the full moon suspended between her monochromatic antlers; it gives off a healthy glow all its own, and, when he looks at it closely, in spite of its brightness, he realizes that it seems to have a patchwork of craters, just like the real moon. Fascinating. He’ll have to ask her what kind of magic created such an elaborate illusion. He wonders if he can reach out and touch it.
She approaches him, quick and close. He doesn’t stop her. This place is absolutely breathtaking, isn’t it? He couldn’t agree more.
“It’s stunning,” he agrees, though something in her tone – or her posture, perhaps – makes him wonder if he should add and so are you, because it seems like she would want to hear it. She leans forward, and, though he does not turn to watch her do it, he feels her toy with his mane; he suppresses a shiver at the contact, the sudden warm against cold, turning his head instead to gaze at her with amused, amused green eyes.
She’s quite young, he decides, and quite sure of herself. It is not a terrible thing to be; caution is as much a hamper as it is a blessing, and, though he was eternally youthful because of his magic, it did not stop him from aging in awareness. Vaeri, she introduces herself, but you can call me Vae. She asks him what he knows of the island.
“Vae,” he repeats, a smile growing across his lips. It is not quite broad enough to show his teeth. “I’m Septimus. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” At his question, he appears to think for a minute, then says, “I only know a bit – it is a very strange place, too strange to make sense of. Did you come here the first time that it rose up from the sea?” He tilts his head at her, the jewels on his antlers clinking rhythmically with the movement; her answer will inform his answer, he thinks.
@Vaeri || <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
