even after they have been stepped on
It is a strange feeling, to be spoken to like he wasn’t a king; and it’s hard for Ipomoea to remember that this had once been how everyone had addressed him, and how everyone had acted around him. It settles now like a shadow in the back of his mind, a selfish part of him that wants to tell the stranger his title - the small part of him whose throat tightens when Sol admits his ignorance, the part that wants to correct him for it. But he doesn’t, at least not yet, because he can’t force the words to form on his tongue.
So he only watches as the dark stallion speaks, nodding along every so often, a small smile that almost betrays his amusement hiding in his eyes.
“Some might say it’s good to spend more time out in the world.” Oriens knew that too many Delumines preferred to stay at home in the Court; perhaps it was better, in a way, to have more citizens like Sol.
But of course, the Dawn Court was also about knowledge - and he knew better than to applaud a lack of that, however noble his intentions may be.
“But it’s also good to have a place to return to,” he says instead. “What is it that you barter in, Sol? The Court’s trade market is quite poor lately, it would be good to see more variety here.” While he speaks he catches the bartender’s eye, and signals to him for a stronger drink.
He was starting to think he would need it.
@Sol Bestiam
