you be the wind
i'll be the wildflower
i'll be the wildflower
He should be paying attention. He should be listening, and participating, and thanking everyone for showing up, for their diligence and their bravery. He should be the face of fearlessness, standing tall beside his emissary and addressing the tragedies. But he isn’t.
It is not lost on him that it’s the second time in a year that Viride has seen blood. That the first string of violence still went unsolved. A part of him wonders if that is why they found the kill pit, if their lack of resolution had opened the door to another attack, another murder, another parasite come to leach off of their home -
There had been ivy creeping up the side of the trees surrounding the kill pit, like a veil shielding the horrors from their view. How many people had walked past and been none the wiser? How long had that curtain of green done its job, kept its secrets? Long enough for the killer to have gotten sloppy. There had been a spot of blood on one of the leaves, large and bright and mocking. It had been so red against all the falling snow, icing over like even the weather wanted to immortalize it. And he had wondered which body it had come from, whether it was the bramblebear or the strange dear or the unicorn or one of the other many, many victims.
From a distance he can hear Emersyn and Andras speaking, their words flowing over him like water in a river in which he’s drowning. He isn’t looking at them - his eyes are downturned to the notes left scattered across the table. He turns them over, one by one, pretending to be reading them but the words mean nothing to him. Only when Maerys lifts her voice over the others does he look up, watching the confusion shift to anger across her face. But all he can think as he looks at her is how he wishes his eyes weren’t quite so red, and he wonders if they think of blood when they see eyes like his.
It might be Thana’s kiss or the sound of her blade scraping across the floor like a scythe that finally brings him back, or the promise of a hunt that is about to start. He looks around the room, passing his gaze over each gathered equine that stands there, waiting.
“We can’t reverse what has happened,” he hopes his voice doesn’t sound as soft as it feels. “How else can we catch who has done this if we don’t go looking for them? How else can we prevent it from happening again save by finding the-” he wants to say monster, and changes his word choice clumsily, “-individual, responsible for this? They will be punished, but first we must identify them, and protect Viride from future attacks.” He directs his words at Maerys, at her disbelief and her anger.
“I will send an owl to the other courts, but we cannot rely on their help. Delumine is our home, and while I hope our allies will come to our call, we must do all that we can to stop this.” Ipomoea moves his gaze at last to the medic when she steps forward.
“If you are volunteering, healer, we could use your help. And if there is anyone familiar with the exotic species of Viride, who can help identify what the missing parts are…” his voice trails off again.
And all he can see as he looks around the room is a drop of blood shining against the snow.
@
notes
