ira
Ira wears the uneasiness of a boy donning the cloak of his father; he, unaccustomed to large gatherings, or groups of people, feels his eyes flit from one face to the next. Those he recognizes, he files away; and those he does not, he notes with intrigue, and an ounce of shame. He ought to know more of his Court by heart! He ought to feel as if he is among friends rather than strangers in name, bound by duty.
This thought, however, bring a note of familiar comfort. Ira understands duty, as some are inherent to it. He is one of those unfortunate few, who have never understood any other path. He listens as their goddess addresses them each in turn; Ira smiles (he cannot help it; her words, and the way they are more genuine than any mortal’s) evoke the truest sentiment from his heart and that is one of joy.
(He wonders, for a moment, if Caligo does not meet all their souls at some point; if she does not watch them tenderly, as a mother would, when they depart the heavens to be invoked into bodies).
“Thank you, goddess.” And more softly, so softly: “He deserved all the beauty I could manage.”
Ira believes it. Ira believes it, or tells himself he does. And besides, there is no more time for him to contemplate the truth of the statement; Caligo moves on to the other would-be Sovereigns, and then the crowd begins to glamour in response to the goddess’s closing statement.
He does not expect Gareth to be one of the first to respond, openly, and before all of Denocte. Ira does not expect the genuine outpouring of opinion, or the subtle nod toward his elect. As with some life events, it takes Ira a moment to appreciate the gravity of Gareth’s statement—he chooses him. Ira says only, nodding respectfully in response, “You humble me.”
Ira listens respectfully as other’s cast their votes, or speak with the goddess, and during this quiet respite Ira keeps note of Caligo; he watches her not so devoutly as he ought to, but with genuine intrigue. What could she teach him, he wonders. What wisdom could she bestow, if she so chose?
He does not allow his thoughts to get away from him too quickly, however, but returns after a moment to the gathering. “I, too, as a citizen of Denocte, would like to cast my vote.” Ira offers a small smile, to both Caligo and his chosen prospect. “Renwick. I believe he epitomizes Denocte’s ideals, and would be glad to follow him; but among us, there is no sour choice. Only those who strive to serve our kingdom, and we are lucky to have any of them.”
He does not say, myself included, because it has never been in his nature. He merely listens, stepping back to observe the remainder of the vote.
@Renwick / speaks / notes
