 IPOMOEA lay me down in golden dandelions ‘cause i’ve been waiting
Ipomoea drew closer to the soft words spoken in reply, dark ears tilted towards their source. Of course he recognized the dun whom came to stand beside him, if only by name: it was Somnus, the man responsible for organizing such an event. Often in the past several days had he seen his pale frame rushing to and from in the streets, ever presently involved in the set ups and preparations taking place. Of course, Ipomoea had had his own work to do, preparing messages for the three other Courts, the invitations to Dawn’s Festival proving to be far more time-consuming than he had originally anticipated. No matter, it had all come together in the end, and the fruits of both mens’ labor were displayed all throughout the capitol. “Oh yes—I imagine Denocte to always be like this, with such gifted artisans hanging around.” After all, the Night King seemed one to enjoy a party or two himself, or so he gathered from his sparse meetings with the man. Perhaps that was a trait they could expect to percolate into the Delumine culture in the coming months—were the alliance between the Dawn and Night Courts to prosper. Personally, Ipomoea would not complain: he had missed the frenzy of living with the merchants, even without knowing it. The liveliness was infectious, taking over his body and heart and bleeding madness through his arteries. It had happened to him as a boy, and it happened to him still, on the cusp of adulthood, nearing the transition from colt to stallion. Every day brought Winter closer and still he lived with young abandon, his youth displayed in full force tonight. His dark lips, smooth as velvet and bare of scruff, pulled upwards into a smile. “I can hardly think of a time I’ve had more fun,” he enthused, striking a mottled leg to the earth to emphasis his words. “Truly, I think we’ve outdone all of Novus!” An exaggeration, sure—but Ipomoea was feeling good, surrounded by strangers who were likewise friends, why shouldn’t he believe this night to be the best of his life? “I’m not sure we’ve ever officially met before? I’m Ipomoea,” his phrases were uncensored, for he cared not to watch them for formality this night. “And you are Somnus, if I am not mistaken?” The words poured out light and warm, as though he addressed an old friend. @Somnus! ”here am I!” |
art by neverrmind
<3
