A S T E R I O N
in sunshine and in shadow*
He had not thought he’d been gone to Night so long, but when he returns from Denocte he finds that spring has come to Terrastella.
It is a fragile thing (much like Aislinn’s mending wing), the first snowdrops uncurling, tender petals to the sun. It is nothing but a promise in each breath of wind, a steady drip of snow melting from the eaves, a laughing, rushing network of streams that criss cross the Dusk Court like stitches.
Though he is exhausted, though a hundred worries still dog his mind, Asterion still pauses to close his eyes and turn his face to the sun when he at last crosses back into the city. Maybe it is strange – perhaps it is undignified – for a regent to bask in the warm spring light in the middle of the square, but if so Asterion is unconcerned with propriety. It feels too good to stretch his weary muscles.
At last he shakes himself back to the moment, smiles at what gazes he meets, and makes his way to the castle.
He has not gone far when his dark eyes catch sight of a striking figure, warm ivory and rich violet. But strange colors are nothing new, in Novus; it is the boy’s wings that make him pause, and for a moment he only watches as the young stallion looks around. Asterion thinks he recognizes that expression – he’d worn it himself his first few days in the city. This is enough to convince him to step forward, settling in alongside the paint with a smile.
“Hello,” he says, and dips his chin in greeting, though his gaze lingers curious on the boy. For once Asterion doesn’t have to search his memory, wondering if he’s seen this stranger before; this was somebody he would remember. “Are you looking for something?”
@Cynix
