[P] oh, I want to learn such simple things;

[Asterion]

Asterion in sunshine and in shadow* He doesn’t think he will ever get used to the echo of his hooves on the marble floors, the way the walls close up around him and box him in. It reminds him of his dreams of the maze, the strange and glittering walls, the feelings of being hemmed and caught.   Asterion appreciates the structure for its artistry, for its protection from the elements, but he can’t quite picture it as home.   But he is trying. That is what brings him walking slowly through the halls as the morning fades to noon outside, late autumn sunlight making patters on the floor. His life has held no shortage of mysteries, but court life might be the strangest of them yet – and so Florentine had suggested he speak to someone far more experienced with them.   The gold-and-ivory stallion had caught his eye from the moment he swept into the meeting, striking and lovely. It wasn’t the thought of speaking with him that had nerves prickling beneath his skin like ripples on a lake; it was the setting itself. He is out of his depth here, and he knows it, and he swallows as he turns into a corner room rich with wood and leather.   “Isorath,” he says, managing to keep it from sounding like a question. He also manages not to stare, although his gaze can’t quite pull away from the stallion; he is beautiful in a way that Asterion is unaccustomed to.  The man puts him in mind of nothing so much as the gods of Ravos, but even they were modest and plain in comparison.   Isorath belongs here in a way that the bay never will, and he’s never felt it more clearly.   Even so, his dark-eyed gaze meets the ethereal lilac eyes of the kirin, and he tips his chin toward the desk, where books are scattered and something delicate and silver hisses with steam. “Florentine said I might ask you…how is it you learned to read?” @Isorath