Somnus  It had been some time since Somnus had ventured through the rich grassland. His last venture earlier in the season had him encountering a member of the Day Court, a meeting which had left an odd taste in his mouth and a less than ideal representation of what sort of inhabitants called Solterra home. He hoped, rather contemptuously, that he would not encounter another one any time soon. Deciding to ignore such sour memories, the golden tactician instead turned his attention upon the present. The supple grassland was just as he recalled from his first visit; vast and bountiful, despite the heat and dryness of the summer months. The peak of Mount Veneror still stood proudly to the south like a beacon of majesty, and that same, incessant tug at his flaxen breast seemed to pull him ever onward to it. Beckoning. Calling. Soon, he promised himself, soon. Soon he would venture the heights of the mighty mountain, to see for himself what awaited at the top. Perhaps, should they feel amicable enough, he could hope to persuade Ulric and perhaps even miss Florentine to join him. For now, however, he was content to stroll the grounds of the Eleutheria Plains and take in the land for what it was, astute verdant depths absorbing the world around him with a keen eye. It was through his aimless wanderings that Somnus found himself at the same river at which he had paused to quench his thirst upon his last visit, and just as before, he did so again. Elegantly the strategist lowered his head, lipping at the cold and refreshing water before allowing himself to indulge in a drink. Every move he made was poised, prepared, as though eyes were always watching. Living as he had, in the company of a passionate King and under the scrutiny of judgmental nobles, serving as a royal chamberlain and advisor, had ingrained propriety into the very essence which made Somnus what he was. It would never change. Straightening, the dunalino gentleman lifted his head, and only then did he spot another downstream. Ah. It appeared that he was not the only creature seeking a drink amidst such a day. Allowing rich amber wings to stretch and feathers to ruffle, Somnus pulled himself from the shoreline. Amicably he ventured downstream, his pace leisurely and unhurried. The stranger was a massive collection of muscle and hair, woven together beneath a tapestry of thick black locks and monochromatic hues stricken in patchy, cracked markings. Standing far above Somnus' own height, the stranger was a looming behemoth, but the way that they stared forlorn into the stream as though the waters withheld any answers they sought was troublesome. "... Pardon the intrustion," Somnus began, the elegant lilt of his accent soft and soothing despite the suddenness of his inquiry, "Are you quite alright?" |
@Ptolema
