The drink was welcome upon his lips. The sweetness coated his tongue, cool and refreshing and invigorating, and Somnus welcomed its reprieve. The day had been a long one full of jovial festivities. It was pleasant to see so many individuals partaking in the festival, friends and strangers alike arriving from nearly every end of Novus. Some, he recognized, yet most of the faces that he had spoken with and greeted during the day were all foreign.
Night was falling, the sky settling into a deep, inky blue as the beautiful colors of the sunset began to dip beyond the horizon. All in all, the day was a successful one, yet they still had many more days of the festival to enjoy. Ipomoea had truly outdone himself.
The musicians were singing a slow, relaxing tune to help them all calm down from the busy and bustling day, and the Dawn King was grateful for his peace and quiet, unwinding with a cool beverage near the stage. It had been quite some time since he had busied himself in such a way as he had that day. Surely Ulric and Eulalie would be proud, knowing that he hadn’t the time to sequester himself away in the private chambers of the citadel, nor the nooks and crannies of the library. He had busied himself by venturing from group to group, greeting those in attendance, smiling knowingly and kindly and thanking them profusely for attending. It surely meant the world to Po, who had planned, lamented, and executed such an affair with remarkable precision and dutiful care. Somnus would have to remember to thank the sweethearted appaloosa once more come morning.
Alba was nestled between the sovereign’s downy wings, her head tucked down and her large eyes shut as she drifted off into sleep. As night approached, typically the barn owl would be wide awake, leaving Somnus’ side to go and search for a tasty meal with the coming darkness, yet the day had exhausted her as well.
’Just a nap,’ Alba had said as she had settled down, her exhaustion and fatigue flooding through their shared internal bond, ’Just a few hours. Promise’ She had hardly managed the words before sleep had consumed her, and so Somnus had remained silent and still, simply unwinding from the day and enjoying the few nocturnal inhabitants that seemed unbothered by the long day. He would stay for a while longer before seeking out a place to rest for the night, and then, come dawn, the event would kick up again.
Val is used to the haunting tones of the sea, Ymera's siren song from the deep as the water washed against weathered wood and coarse stone. It is solemn, soulful singing built upon the backs of his forefathers and their ancestors. All to the backdrop of salt water blues, blacks and greens.
Surrounded by the sweet vibrancy of it all, is simply another kick in the gut at how out of place he is here. A smudge of charcoal, a cold smear of ice against stained glass windows.
He'd been amiable enough, surprisingly, to allow fellow Delumines — that is what they called themselves, wasn't it? — to braid flowers in the coarse coal and salt curls of his hair. They had chattered and flittered around him like hummingbirds and bees, so entranced and delighted with the prospect of turning him into a beacon of summer. The pastel hues of blush and snow white roses make up a looping flower crown which sat proudly upon his horned head.
The feeling persisted though, that out of place sensation, as he meandered through the crowds and made small talk to those who had approached. Engaged but not entranced, he's not cold, but he's not warm either. They seem to understand though, he is a stranger from a strange land — in a place that is painfully not close to home at all.
If he had D'art here with him, he could at least console himself by making himself an intolerable pest to his much shorter mate. They could of wandered the festival ground like the oddities that they are, and he would of been content. But, it is just him, in a sea of faces that glance at one another like they're family.
He'd been thankful when he could take the nearest offered mug of ale and retreat as the sun began to set, the sunsets here are at the very least, breathtaking. The ale is strong, but not bitter, smoothe on the way down and he cannot help the sigh which exhaled from his blood flecked nostrils. The nosebleeds had abated for the moment, and he'd done his best to not do anything that might prompt his body to act out anymore than usual. It was supposed to be a happy occasion, he didn't need the caretakers breaking their reverie to fret over the 101 causes of his nosebleeds. He meandered, with surprising grace through the steadily waning crowds until his blue eyes spotted the gilded pegasus stood off to the side of the stage. He's not quite sure what draws him into a conversational mood, but he strode over all the same.
"Hiding from the late night fun?" He mused out, voice rough and hoarse as salt and stone, but there's a melody beneath it like the song in the waves.
The one who inevitably joins him is one that Somnus does not recognize. Darker than unrefined coal and far, far taller than the dunalino himself, the stranger was an outwardly imposing sight with his broad build and fearsome horns. Well, perhaps they would have been a tad more fearsome if not adorned with a beautifully arranged crown of flora that rested atop his poll. He approached with remarkable elegance despite his profound size, however, and Somnus’ keen emerald eyes watch him closely as the unknown man settles at his side. Not too close, he notes, but he does not feel wary. The stranger’s words, deep and rough as gravel, seem to reverberate within the Dawn King’s ears, in his head. Whether it was simply the deep baritone of his natural voice, or perhaps rough from disuse, Somnus did not know. It wasn’t his place to know.
’Hiding from the late night fun?’
The question, however, was innocent enough, and after taking a thoughtful sip of his sweet wine the golden smiled amicably and offered a lazy shrug, an elegant roll of the shoulder. “Perhaps,” he stated, the lilt of his accent seeming to express his exhaustion from the busy, busy day, “More like taking a moment of respite, if I’m being honest. It has been quite a long day indeed.” Another sip, another sigh. It was the perfect way to wind down, especially as the summer heat began to wane with the oncoming night. Alba was none the wiser from her perch between his shoulders, still napping peacefully.
The crowds may be winding down, the foals tuckered out to eventually be taken to bed by their mothers and fathers, but there was a healthy number of individuals who seemed to thrive as the night came alive. Sun or moon, their festival-going spirit would not be disturbed, but Somnus did not mind. Let them enjoy themselves. Novus needed more lighthearted fun. Verdant eyes slid sidelong towards his unknown compatriot then, turning away from the mingling faces. The taller man did not strike familiarity within the Dawn King, but still he repeated the man’s own inquiry, never one to intend to appear rude or dismissive.
“And you? Exhausted by the masses? Or are you simply taking a moment of respite as well?” The ale was impossible to miss, and Somnus could not help but eye it knowingly. Perhaps he wasn’t the only one stressed from the day? Then, as he took another long drink from his wooden cup, letting the taste of the sweet wine linger upon his tongue, savoring and surveying, he spoke after swallowing. “I don’t believe that we’ve crossed paths before. Are you new here?”
He's steadily becoming used to being one of the tall ones. While he's sure he is not the tallest, there is always someone taller, bigger, meaner — his warrior instincts sigh with an age old wisdom — he towered where he once brushed shoulders. It is not a bad thing, he supposed, after all he had a preference for shorter things, if he was so bold enough to indulge his sense of humor.
The Golden pegasus is amiable enough, exhaustion and all, it bled through like fracture lines in marble faces in his voice. The weathered cracks in Ymera's grand visage, comes more readily to mind, in the many sea temples he had once bowed knee deep in salt water to praise her. Pleasant even if time had ravaged it, such as the busy day had taken what appeared much from the dunalino. "Ah, I can imagine." Val agreed easily enough, punctuated with a sip of his ale. "It is hard to keep an eye on so many faces, and to make sure that no one gets up to any mischief." The last part is exhaled in a half-huff of humor, as dry and cracked as it is, it's an animated response for a man who is as still and stiff as a corpse most of the time.
But, the night is also long. Many preferred to come alive at Night, such festivities practically birthed the practice. To come alive when the sun went down, and to retire when it crested the horizon. Icy blue eyes peered at them all as they passed, flickering images illuminated by firelight, their faces joyous and only a litle bit inebriated.
And you? Exhausted by the masses? Or are you simply taking a moment of respite as well.
An ear flicked at the question, as the Dawn King observed him. It's neither out of annoyance or discomfort. He had asked the question first, it was only kind that the golden man returned it. "A momentary respite. I admit, I'm not as used to crowds as I once was." Val eventually answered. "Even then, they were not as vibrant or as happy as this. At least sober and on land." There's a twinge of melancholy buried in there, somewhere deep down beneath the humor.
I don’t believe that we’ve crossed paths before. Are you new here?
"I came here not too long ago, yes." He's also not been the most social, but he omitted that from his statement, or really present in Delumine. It made for a bad first impression, didn't it? "Names Thorvald, though many seem to just call me Val for the ease of it. Warrior by trade." Val had never claimed to be good at introductions, there was something oddly uncomfortable to the whole thing. In Skoan everyone knew each other, and then as he'd drifted, he'd simply avoided most of civilisation that required someone to know your name and your business. "And you are?"
There was something peculiar that caught his attention, something that grasped at his insatiable curiosity with a demand for answers. A dusty gold ear flicked to the side, eyes glancing sidelong at his larger companion as he listened the gruff voice reveal sparse tidbits of a past that he could never hope to truly comprehend. Somnus’ expression remained impassive and collected, but there was a telltale dip in his frown that spoke of more intrigue than displeasure.
“Were you a sailor of some kind?”
The question was rather abrupt but hopefully one that Thorvald, for that was the name in which he introduced himself, wouldn’t mind. Despite his many travels, Somnus had never been to sea. Oh, he had flown over the churning blue waves of the ocean plenty of times, but he had never once set foot upon the solid wood of a well-loved brig. He wondered what such a thing was like; living upon a wooden brig, at the mercy of the might of the ocean. It was an experience that he hoped to partake in, at least some day, if only to know what it was like.
Something like ‘small talk’ or mandatory socialization was a skill he had picked up on throughout the years, far before this life here in Novus. It wasn’t something that he particularly enjoyed, for he was far too analytical of a creature to truly settle for the mundane, but he could practically feel the tales that Thorvald surely knew. The things he had seen, the sights, the sounds, the smells… Oh, but the dunalino would have liked to know them. It would be terribly rude to simply ask for a tale, however, when they were still but strangers, and so Somnus mindfully held his tongue.
“A pleasure, Thorvald. Or, Val, if you prefer.” A second nod, this one of mutual understanding. It was accompanied alongside a wry grin. “My name is Somnus.” He did not need to say much else. Surely everyone knew his name by now, and honestly? The Dawn King did not know what to make of that. Oriens knew that he felt nothing like a king, nor did he truly feel he deserved to be so known among the people as one. He was just a man; a simple, flawed man, parading about in shoes that were far too big for him to fill. A colt, playing in the cape of a proud father, really. Giving a slight jerk of his head, he motioned to the obliviously napping barn owl perched between his folded wings. “That is Alba. I apologize for her lack of manners.”
Yet he could not admit his uncertainties or doubts. Thorvald seemed every inch the seasoned, capable warrior, and Somnus did not wish to cause him to believe that he served a weak king. Transgressions for another time, as they were. Shifting his stance, the tactician gave a roll of a shoulder as he straightened, letting his eyes stray back to the din of the festival around them.
"Once upon a time, it may as well have been in another life." Thorvald answers with the barest hint of a smirk, there is a weight behind those words, somewhere deep down behind the amiable facade he presents. It wraps around his hocks like Ymera's kraken appendages, up and up, sliding slick over his charcoal skin and pulling. He had been many things once.
A Sailor, a Warrior, a Son, a Brother.
Ah, but that had been so very long ago. The years all blurred together and the memories warped at the edges, crumbled on others. Each turn of the page, the start of another chapter, made all the ink press together. Oh there are such tales he can tell the Dunalino beside him, of Ymera and her eyes whiter than any pearl of the abyss, glowing like lanterns in the mire and murk, beckoning the wayward soul home. Great floating mountains of ice in the north, drifting silently on the stormy sea while leviathans coiled around them in slow waltz. How it felt for the salt wind to card it's spindled fingers through coarse manes, how close sailing felt to flying when the sails were loosed.
Somnus.
"Ah, the King of Dawn and it's new beginnings." Val rumbled with good humor, pale blue eyes regarding the other with a touch more interest. The only King's he'd ever met were the ones which had ruled Skoan. The haggard and weathered face of King Asvaldr, his life written in the deep creases which lined his aged visage. Then young King Vali, though he supposes, that he is not so young anymore. But his youthful face flickers to the forefront of Thorvald's mind and his cold heart twists, sharp and unforgiving.
He had never bowed to either of them, and the handsome face of Vali disappears into the shadows once more, dragged down by the kraken and his mistress. Perhaps it is in bad manners that he does not turn to Somnus and bow now. "Not even companions are immune to the hustle and bustle it appears." A glance is given to the barn owl in question, but it does not linger for long, it returns to the gilded lines of the King's face and then out to the crowd.
"Any particular reason for the festival?" He asks eventually, another sip of ale pausing his words. "I'm afraid I'm rather bad at keeping up with the comings and goings of everything. Especially in new places."
