in sunshine and in shadow
He listens with one ear turned to their conversation, his gaze politely averted; but when Aspara says my father Asterion’s dark eyes settle on her again. Once more he feels a nudge of familiarity, and now he searches for other signs of recognition: the way her horn twists, so like Isra’s; the moon-color of her coat, as Eik’s must have been when he was a boy, the very way she holds herself, so comfortable as a child among kings. The bay looks at her and thinks of the last conversation he’d had with his friend, a year ago -
“Oh, he says softly, a little slip of breath in the darkness. At once his heart feels both impossibly full and broken wide, another cup of joy and sorrow. Perhaps none of them notice, which he would be grateful as he does his best to push away you should have been here, you should have been here.
It is enough, he tells himself, to be here now.
At the Sun King’s comment Asterion meets his gaze, dropping his chin in the barest of nods. “Yes.” What else is there to say? It is a truth he knows, and a facet of the Commander’s he is well familiar with. Each of them had always felt the firm press of duty grounding them, but Marisol’s resolve had always been the cliffside to Asterion’s soft and changing sea. The bay holds Orestes’s eye for a moment longer, the look in his own complicated and considering; it isn’t without a little relief that he turns to Aspara again when she speaks.
Surely his new knowing has changed in his expression when he faces her following her question, though maybe it is lost in the darkness where only the edges of him are touched by moonlight. “I did,” he says, and almost asks about her own then, though he has been told where Eik and Isra have gone, and why. But Aspara continues with her questions, and they draw a smile from him. “For a while,” he says, glad for her second question when he has no answer to the first. “Your city has always had my favorite festivals.”
His smile still lingers when his companions turn back to each other, though his attention returns to the archway and the horses that pass beneath in singles and small groups, some laughing, some reverent. Lanternlight dances between the trees, a string of fireflies leading down to the city. Asterion has not been in a crowd, or a city, since he returned to Novus; the apprehension he feels at the thought now surprises him.
When there is a lull in the pairs’ conversation, the bay stallion turns back to them. They look like something out of a storybook, the golden king and the unicorn girl and the lion between them; it’s easy to think of a dozen adventures they might go on. Asterion feels like what he is - a stranger observing. He drinks deeply of the night, tells himself it tastes like home.
“I’m glad to have met you both,” he says, caught between formality and earnestness, “but I’m going to continue on. Though if you are too…I’d be honored to have your company, and your stories.” His smile turns wry. “I have a lot to catch up on.”
@Aspara @Orestes
“Oh, he says softly, a little slip of breath in the darkness. At once his heart feels both impossibly full and broken wide, another cup of joy and sorrow. Perhaps none of them notice, which he would be grateful as he does his best to push away you should have been here, you should have been here.
It is enough, he tells himself, to be here now.
At the Sun King’s comment Asterion meets his gaze, dropping his chin in the barest of nods. “Yes.” What else is there to say? It is a truth he knows, and a facet of the Commander’s he is well familiar with. Each of them had always felt the firm press of duty grounding them, but Marisol’s resolve had always been the cliffside to Asterion’s soft and changing sea. The bay holds Orestes’s eye for a moment longer, the look in his own complicated and considering; it isn’t without a little relief that he turns to Aspara again when she speaks.
Surely his new knowing has changed in his expression when he faces her following her question, though maybe it is lost in the darkness where only the edges of him are touched by moonlight. “I did,” he says, and almost asks about her own then, though he has been told where Eik and Isra have gone, and why. But Aspara continues with her questions, and they draw a smile from him. “For a while,” he says, glad for her second question when he has no answer to the first. “Your city has always had my favorite festivals.”
His smile still lingers when his companions turn back to each other, though his attention returns to the archway and the horses that pass beneath in singles and small groups, some laughing, some reverent. Lanternlight dances between the trees, a string of fireflies leading down to the city. Asterion has not been in a crowd, or a city, since he returned to Novus; the apprehension he feels at the thought now surprises him.
When there is a lull in the pairs’ conversation, the bay stallion turns back to them. They look like something out of a storybook, the golden king and the unicorn girl and the lion between them; it’s easy to think of a dozen adventures they might go on. Asterion feels like what he is - a stranger observing. He drinks deeply of the night, tells himself it tastes like home.
“I’m glad to have met you both,” he says, caught between formality and earnestness, “but I’m going to continue on. Though if you are too…I’d be honored to have your company, and your stories.” His smile turns wry. “I have a lot to catch up on.”
@
