I P O M O E A
i'm feeling my way through the darkness
guided by a beating heart
It was a rare thing, for Ipomoea to seek peace and quiet. Perhaps it was the wild streets of Denocte that had finally driven him to solitude, the dancing gypsies with their flashing coins and high-pitched songs seeming to set the entire marketplace on fire. It had been packed and bustling, equines this way and that way all pushing to get to where they wanted to go. There had been the merchants themselves, calling him closer, closer so that he might gaze upon their wares and walk away with far less cash than what he’d arrived with. And let’s not forget the citizens who recognized him for what he was: the Emissary of Dawn Court, a foreigner, something new and exciting. Voices were raised, everyone talking at once, clamoring to be heard over the other, so that Po was engaged in not just one, but many conversations at once. It was confusing and overwhelming, even for one who usually thrived in the spotlight!
It was no wonder Kasil stayed in the keep so much.
Denocte truly was a wild thing, perhaps even wilder than her Night King. And while Ipomoea was not quite put off from it—he found he didn’t mind solitude quite so much as he once thought.
He wondered distantly if the King would mind that he had ventured into his castle for reprieve; but then again, had he not been instructed to make himself at home? Emissaries were supposed to immerse themselves in the different Courts, to be knowledgeable of every culture and tradition. Surely there was something here in the capitol building that he could learn about—without the hustle and bustle of the market awaiting him outside.
In fact, the room he found himself in now boasted a number of intricate tapestries, each boasting a different scene in a different style. He wandered closer, not yet daring to touch, but pressing his nose up nearly so close to study the fine paint strokes of one particular piece, the seemingly center of the room.
A mix of blacks and blues were sloshed heavily across the painting, creating a texture similar to the folds in a silk garment. White dotted the space unevenly, colors strewn in a heavy band through the middle of the night sky backdrop. It was beautiful, but also cold; the sky felt so impersonal, like a watcher of Denocte who had seen too much, but couldn’t look away. A small voice at the back of Ipomoea’s mind wondered at the people who made such artwork, at what had inspired them and made them so worthy to hang on a wall in the Night King’s home.
With a soft snort, he backed away to take in the whole picture again, thoughts churning silently through his mind, threatening to burst aloud unbidden. But it would not do for the Emissary of another Court to be seen rambling to himself, speaking to the paintings as if hopeful they would answer back. No, it was better to keep his thoughts, his questions, to himself.
For now.
@open to anyone! come look at paintings w Po <3
tagging @reichenbach in case you'd like a new thread with him~
i'm feeling my way through the darkness
guided by a beating heart
It was a rare thing, for Ipomoea to seek peace and quiet. Perhaps it was the wild streets of Denocte that had finally driven him to solitude, the dancing gypsies with their flashing coins and high-pitched songs seeming to set the entire marketplace on fire. It had been packed and bustling, equines this way and that way all pushing to get to where they wanted to go. There had been the merchants themselves, calling him closer, closer so that he might gaze upon their wares and walk away with far less cash than what he’d arrived with. And let’s not forget the citizens who recognized him for what he was: the Emissary of Dawn Court, a foreigner, something new and exciting. Voices were raised, everyone talking at once, clamoring to be heard over the other, so that Po was engaged in not just one, but many conversations at once. It was confusing and overwhelming, even for one who usually thrived in the spotlight!
It was no wonder Kasil stayed in the keep so much.
Denocte truly was a wild thing, perhaps even wilder than her Night King. And while Ipomoea was not quite put off from it—he found he didn’t mind solitude quite so much as he once thought.
He wondered distantly if the King would mind that he had ventured into his castle for reprieve; but then again, had he not been instructed to make himself at home? Emissaries were supposed to immerse themselves in the different Courts, to be knowledgeable of every culture and tradition. Surely there was something here in the capitol building that he could learn about—without the hustle and bustle of the market awaiting him outside.
In fact, the room he found himself in now boasted a number of intricate tapestries, each boasting a different scene in a different style. He wandered closer, not yet daring to touch, but pressing his nose up nearly so close to study the fine paint strokes of one particular piece, the seemingly center of the room.
A mix of blacks and blues were sloshed heavily across the painting, creating a texture similar to the folds in a silk garment. White dotted the space unevenly, colors strewn in a heavy band through the middle of the night sky backdrop. It was beautiful, but also cold; the sky felt so impersonal, like a watcher of Denocte who had seen too much, but couldn’t look away. A small voice at the back of Ipomoea’s mind wondered at the people who made such artwork, at what had inspired them and made them so worthy to hang on a wall in the Night King’s home.
With a soft snort, he backed away to take in the whole picture again, thoughts churning silently through his mind, threatening to burst aloud unbidden. But it would not do for the Emissary of another Court to be seen rambling to himself, speaking to the paintings as if hopeful they would answer back. No, it was better to keep his thoughts, his questions, to himself.
For now.
@open to anyone! come look at paintings w Po <3
tagging @reichenbach in case you'd like a new thread with him~
art by day of shadow
