He speaks like he is not quite sure what the word means, and Antiope who is used to being something other and not quite from this world, or the next, or any other, gets a feeling from this man like he is the same as her. Different, but similar.
She steps a little closer, and admires the way he looks like he was formed from nebulas. The colors swirl and spread across his skin, where the rest of him is grey as a night of rain amid Denocte’s streets. The sun takes to him eagerly, turning every curve and sharp cut into a canvas on which it dances across. The Regent has never seen anyone quite like him.
“You are in Novus,” Antiope says to his inquiry, sapphire eyes as bright as the sea stretching out beside them, and as deep, too. “More specifically in one of her courts, Denocte. The Night Court.” She says it because it suits him, uncannily so. How has someone, who looks as though they have stepped down from the skies above, landed on their shores? There is no remains of a boat, no indication of how he arrived.
Her curiosity dances with gossamer suspicion. “I am Antiope,” she speaks, finally, her name. The gods called me Antiope. Some days, it still feels like yesterday and not a year. Not many years. She wonders when she will stop counting them.
![[Image: 13716916_Rc8f5hGvZkB3cYP.png]](https://file.toyhou.se/images/13716916_Rc8f5hGvZkB3cYP.png)
a war is calling
the tides are turned
the tides are turned
