SOMNUS
All thoughts of recipes, tea making, and exotic flowers were easily forgotten when it became obvious that he was no longer alone. The Dawn King lifted his head quickly with a sharp snort, knowing verdant eyes peering at the one who had stumbled, quite literally, upon him during his searching. Wariness was the first emotion to blossom within his breast. Distrust. He, a newly crowned King, was far from his own domain without a glaive to guard him. Tensions had been building tremendously between Day, Dusk, and Night, and here he was, alone and unguarded in a territory that he might not very well be welcome in. Delumine had yet to pick a side in all of the tension. Somnus refrained from letting them. A war would solve nothing except bring more death and destruction, and the dunalino wanted to spare his Court such trauma.
Yet the more he stared at her, this lady of the night, the more he realized that his distrust and misgivings were unfounded. Injured. She was injured. Her wing lay in a mangled mess of torn flesh and missing feathers, bloody bandages swaying in the breeze, but that was not all that had happened to her. That much was easy to see with his own two eyes. The smell of her blood, of her visceral fear, was nearly palpable. He could almost taste it. Concern for this stranger, foreign though she may be, overtook any other emotion he may have felt, but Somnus did not dare a step closer.
“Please,” the Dawn King whispered, careful to keep his accented voice soothing and soft, not wishing to cause the injured woman any more stress than she was already in, “I mean you no harm. I apologize, if I startled you.”
What could he do? He was a stranger to these lands. He knew not a soul who called Denocte home aside from Rostislav, but the Warden was nowhere to be found. His mind could come up with a plethora of herbs and tonics that were kept nicely within the Citadel in Delumine, poultices prepared by their talented caretakers to treat wounds, infections, and pains, but this was not Delumine. This was Denocte, and Somnus felt as though he were a fish out of water. How could he help? What could he do, when she seemed positively petrified of him? What had happened that caused such horrendous, cruel injuries? Had she been ambushed? Was there a threat about? So many questions, but there seemed to be no immediate answers, and as a man who loathed ambiguity in any sense, it left him rattled and uncertain.
’Alba. Come here.’ He could feel the barn owl’s ire despite the distance between them. ’Do not argue. Come, now.’ Rarely had he commanded her. Somnus wasn’t the type to demand, but during such uncertain circumstances, Alba knew better than to argue to act impudent as she was known to do. Miles away, the barn owl wheeled around within the air, stopping her search for the flowers that had brought them there in the first place to instead return to her bond-mate's side.
From there he focused back on the injured mare, her celestial frame marred with injuries from whatever terrors she had so obviously endured. “I’m going to approach,” he cautioned, daring to take a step closer, “Do not be afraid. If you wish me to leave, I will leave, but I only want to help you.” Hopefully through the cloying stench of her terror, she would understand his sincerity. In no good conscience could Somnus simply abandon her, not without trying something to alleviate her pain, her suffering.
@Aislinn <3 Sorry for the wait, love!
