S O L S T I C E
and at last i see the light, and it's like the fog has lifted
There was so much bustle around the Dawn Court, enough to draw out an ounce of curiosity to the quiet mare with a timid smile. She had been here for a few weeks now, always looking over her shoulder, always wondering what would come at every turn of night to day, worried they would find her. Alone, she’d stayed to the shadows, allowing herself bits of sunlight as a selfish reward as she basked in the long summer days among the flowers. Some had come by to greet her, kind and concerned… but for the most part, Solstice had fared her early days in Delumine alone and content to her exploration and introspection.
Word spread quickly of a festival, and her inquisitive nature took hold now, pushing her into the wilds of Delumine with a false flag of bravery, even as she fought to keep butterflies in her stomach at bay. She walked among the crowds, delighting in the fact that no one stopped to look at her twice, each concerned with their own going-abouts and indulgences. Music filled the air, along with sweet and spicy scents of pastries, spirits, and autumnal wreaths. There was so much to take in, and she wanted to know it all, desperate to remember every bit of the excitement and revelry.
She finds her way to Oriens’ table, feasting her eyes on the spectacle of it all. In the center, a grand stallion rises above the others, free and wild as he caresses the heavens. It is a breathtaking presentation, and she walks the length of the display, noting the delicate beading and ornate craftmanship of every piece. There were others here too – some vying to view the art, others tooling with their own baubles and bits, sculpting and hammering as they went. Solstice watches them all, even as she brushes against a stranger, gasping at the touch as she quickly draws her wings tight against her frame, an apology rushing to her lips.
Before she can apologize, he drops the stone against the table, and Solstice flinches at the sound. With carefully banked fear in her stance, her golden eyes flash to his, expecting him to shout at her disruption… but instead, he offers simply, Here.
Andras’ voice is matter of fact, and she watches the crafter curiously, unsure of where to begin. She turns a hammer over awkwardly in her grip, before setting it down on the table and choosing instead to pick up some long reeds, grasses, and flowers, beginning to twine them together in a laurel as she’d done in the temple gardens as a girl. “What will you build?” she questions with a delicate smile, watching the stranger from beneath the fringe of her forelock as they stand beneath the autumn sun.
Word spread quickly of a festival, and her inquisitive nature took hold now, pushing her into the wilds of Delumine with a false flag of bravery, even as she fought to keep butterflies in her stomach at bay. She walked among the crowds, delighting in the fact that no one stopped to look at her twice, each concerned with their own going-abouts and indulgences. Music filled the air, along with sweet and spicy scents of pastries, spirits, and autumnal wreaths. There was so much to take in, and she wanted to know it all, desperate to remember every bit of the excitement and revelry.
She finds her way to Oriens’ table, feasting her eyes on the spectacle of it all. In the center, a grand stallion rises above the others, free and wild as he caresses the heavens. It is a breathtaking presentation, and she walks the length of the display, noting the delicate beading and ornate craftmanship of every piece. There were others here too – some vying to view the art, others tooling with their own baubles and bits, sculpting and hammering as they went. Solstice watches them all, even as she brushes against a stranger, gasping at the touch as she quickly draws her wings tight against her frame, an apology rushing to her lips.
Before she can apologize, he drops the stone against the table, and Solstice flinches at the sound. With carefully banked fear in her stance, her golden eyes flash to his, expecting him to shout at her disruption… but instead, he offers simply, Here.
Andras’ voice is matter of fact, and she watches the crafter curiously, unsure of where to begin. She turns a hammer over awkwardly in her grip, before setting it down on the table and choosing instead to pick up some long reeds, grasses, and flowers, beginning to twine them together in a laurel as she’d done in the temple gardens as a girl. “What will you build?” she questions with a delicate smile, watching the stranger from beneath the fringe of her forelock as they stand beneath the autumn sun.
― @Andras
