He asks her what she would like to know and Antiope thinks, everything even though she doesn’t say it. Perhaps it is in her eyes—in their keenness, in the glint of their sapphire facets. Instead, the Denoctian sovereign lets him talk. Lets him tell her about his version of Delumine, not the version that she has learned from the rest of the world.As Ipomoea speaks she thinks of a library stretching toward the sky, with shelves packed full with volumes thick and thin. Some covers are worn, others the binding taught and new. Books in every color, every size. She likes to imagine that she could learn so many things in a library like that. “What about other worlds?” Antiope asks, wondering if they keep knowledge of places that are not Novus.
What she wants to know is if they have a story of a woman carved from stone who was raised for war. A woman who turned against her creators, killing them out of anger, before running away to a new land.
She doesn’t tell him that, however. Antiope is still learning how to let that part of her out, and struggling to. Not here, not with Caligo’s eye bearing down upon her back.
“That is an incredible hope. I would like to see their collection someday,” the woman says, glancing down at the swirling steam, rising from her cup in the barest of wisps. “I love that Denocte is a gathering place for all kinds of equines, from all corners of the world,” her voice is softer, and low. “I know that I can walk down the market streets and not recognize half the faces on any given day, as new merchants file in from the port.”
Antiope thinks of all the exotic wares, all the far-away spices and regalia that come through the streets. “We are always changing, but we are always still Denocte.” When she finally looks up, there is maybe something darkening her eyes, something sad, but her smile is sincere and honest.
@Ipomoea I feel rusty
![[Image: 13716916_Rc8f5hGvZkB3cYP.png]](https://file.toyhou.se/images/13716916_Rc8f5hGvZkB3cYP.png)
a war is calling
the tides are turned
the tides are turned
