AND I RAN BACK TO THAT HOLLOW AGAIN / THE MOON WAS JUST A SLIVER BACK THEN / AND I ACHED FOR MY HEART LIKE SOME TIN MAN
❃
Spring has sprung, so to speak, and it is just as lovely as he was hoping that it would be.
He lost what must have been hours browsing the festival, enjoying the simple brightnesses it had to offer; the newborn blossoms, brilliant as first blush, the smell of salty air that is neither warm nor cold, and the crowds upon crowds of people, run through with young lovers and children. He is so engaged in the spirit of the festival that he briefly considers putting on one of the flower crowns that are being woven in the fields himself, but he can scarcely keep his glasses propped upright on his face – he can scarcely imagine how quickly any crown he put on would turn lopsided and awkwardly wilted.
Eventually, he drifts away towards the field, and into the court proper; the grey stone is a far cry from the look of Delumine, harsher and far more similar to a great fortress, but he thinks that it is lovely in a different way, with its blocky towers and stained glass windows. He meanders his way to the castle, wondering if it has been decorated in much the way as the rest of the court, and, though he is quick to discover that it isn’t, he nevertheless climbs up higher into one of the towers, imagining that there is likely a wonderful view of the fields and the sea at some of the higher windows.
(He could fly, of course, if he wanted a really good one – but the sea air is always harsher, and he doesn’t much want to be buffeted about.)
When he comes to a room near the highest spire of one of the towers, he knocks on the door; when no answer comes from the other side, he steps inside, expecting to be alone. Instead, his eyes fall on a pegasus – she is lovely, dark, and sturdy, touched here and there with shades of midnight blue, and he thinks that she rather suits the court. He nearly apologizes for interrupting her, but she doesn’t seem bothered by his intrusion, shifting aside to allow him to see out the window; he strolls up to stand at her side, gazing out at the fields of flowers and the blue rush of the sea in the distance, and, when she speaks, he tilts his head to look at her, green gemstones clinking like chimes about his antlers.
“It is,” he agrees, a smile stretching across his lips, “and so is the festival. I’m Septimus, a scholar from Delumine – it’s certainly lovely to have the opportunity to visit Terrastella again.” He pauses for just a breath, at her question. He’d intended to get a bit of work done while he was here, but he’d gotten so distracted by the festival that he doubted that he would accomplish any of the mapmaking or sample collection he’d intended to do. “I’m just sightseeing, mostly. Are you a member of the Dusk Court?” He assumes so, from her question – but they haven’t yet been properly introduced, so he asks regardless.
@Mephisto || <3 ||
Speech
❃
Spring has sprung, so to speak, and it is just as lovely as he was hoping that it would be.
He lost what must have been hours browsing the festival, enjoying the simple brightnesses it had to offer; the newborn blossoms, brilliant as first blush, the smell of salty air that is neither warm nor cold, and the crowds upon crowds of people, run through with young lovers and children. He is so engaged in the spirit of the festival that he briefly considers putting on one of the flower crowns that are being woven in the fields himself, but he can scarcely keep his glasses propped upright on his face – he can scarcely imagine how quickly any crown he put on would turn lopsided and awkwardly wilted.
Eventually, he drifts away towards the field, and into the court proper; the grey stone is a far cry from the look of Delumine, harsher and far more similar to a great fortress, but he thinks that it is lovely in a different way, with its blocky towers and stained glass windows. He meanders his way to the castle, wondering if it has been decorated in much the way as the rest of the court, and, though he is quick to discover that it isn’t, he nevertheless climbs up higher into one of the towers, imagining that there is likely a wonderful view of the fields and the sea at some of the higher windows.
(He could fly, of course, if he wanted a really good one – but the sea air is always harsher, and he doesn’t much want to be buffeted about.)
When he comes to a room near the highest spire of one of the towers, he knocks on the door; when no answer comes from the other side, he steps inside, expecting to be alone. Instead, his eyes fall on a pegasus – she is lovely, dark, and sturdy, touched here and there with shades of midnight blue, and he thinks that she rather suits the court. He nearly apologizes for interrupting her, but she doesn’t seem bothered by his intrusion, shifting aside to allow him to see out the window; he strolls up to stand at her side, gazing out at the fields of flowers and the blue rush of the sea in the distance, and, when she speaks, he tilts his head to look at her, green gemstones clinking like chimes about his antlers.
“It is,” he agrees, a smile stretching across his lips, “and so is the festival. I’m Septimus, a scholar from Delumine – it’s certainly lovely to have the opportunity to visit Terrastella again.” He pauses for just a breath, at her question. He’d intended to get a bit of work done while he was here, but he’d gotten so distracted by the festival that he doubted that he would accomplish any of the mapmaking or sample collection he’d intended to do. “I’m just sightseeing, mostly. Are you a member of the Dusk Court?” He assumes so, from her question – but they haven’t yet been properly introduced, so he asks regardless.
@Mephisto || <3 ||
Speech
AND RARELY, IF THE WOOD ACCEPTS THE BLADE WITHOUT CONDITIONSthe two pieces keep their balance in spite of the blow❃please tag Septimus! contact is encouraged, short of violence
