The land was familiar to Pan – so familiar, that he didn’t have to stop and look at where he was going or ask for directions. It was as if his feet knew that if he turned to his left, a hundred paces from here would be a tree – and a hundred further, a moss laden rock. He’d certainly been to this place before, but Pan couldn’t tell you when or for what reasons. If only the trees could talk… the stories they would tell about the boy. They would tell of different faces and a different king, but of Oriens all the same. Delumine would always hold a special place for the boy, even if he could not remember his first venture into Novus and the Dawn Court.
All around him, there is life. Perhaps this is what first drew him to settle in the Dawn Court – but now, the Vagabond knows nothing of home and is only drawn to the magic of it all. There are birds singing their summer songs, the rush of water over rocks as the Rapax River brushes the borders of the meadow, flowers – as far as his eyes could see. Pan sighed a whimsical sort of sigh, reaching down to brush his lips along the tall grass, nibbling a bit for good measure.
This is how Mateo would find him, exploring with his senses as he whispered to a prairie dog who chittered and dug tunnels nearby. The boy turned to grin at the approaching stallion, rising to his feet and dancing toward him without hesitation. Hello – I’m Pan!
There isn’t a shy bone in the boy’s body, and energy seemed to seep from his very skin. Where am I? This place… I mean… I think I’ve been here before. It would all sound very odd to this stranger, but then, Pan didn’t really think these things through. He was prone to just letting words travel from his brain to his mouth, without much of a filter… and as a result, his thoughts were often jumbled and given without much context.
Mateo loves his home. He loves the strong western winds and the way they sing as they lift him high above Novus. He loves the lush depths of the forest and the gently rolling meadows that spread north from the court like an emerald sea. He's never spent much time outside of Delumine, because he's not yet seen every last bit of his homeland. He might not ever, due to his fastidious attention to detail-- the more he looks, the more there is to see... and he's okay with that. Today he's following the deer trail that meanders through the meadow, enjoying the summer sun before it's gone, and just... listening.
This is a summer song, in three parts:
The grass gently rubs against itself in the warm breeze,
Somewhere an angry prairie dog barks,
and my own hooves plod, sounding strangely like
someone else entirely...
His ears perk up at the sound of another, and his introspection is cheerfully forgotten as a friendly young man introduces himself. "Hello Pan, I'm Teo." It was always a secret relief to meet someone shorter and younger than him-- Mateo was often the shortest man in the room, and despite his most certainly being of age, he was frustratingly often mistaken for a yearling. So when he smiles at Pan, there is a particularly cheerful edge to it.
"Where am I? This place… I mean… I think I’ve been here before."
Mateo blinks, a little surprised by the question. He had been expecting "how are you?" or "where are you from?" or "what big beautiful wings you have!"-- but this is good. He likes a surprise. "Well, what scale do you mean?" He is a fanatic of maps, and so this seems to him the natural place to start. "This land, from coast to coast, is called Novus. We're currently in Delumine, the finest of the four courts of Novus," he flutters his wings proudly, "and more specifically, we're in the Illuster Meadow. Any of those names ring a bell?"
He is in no rush, and so he waits patiently for the man to answer before he asks- "Have you lost your memory or something?" His breath hitches in intrigue, imagination running wild with the possibilities of the boy's story.
Did any of those names ring a bell? Pan laughed to himself, the sound a bit sarcastic as he wondered if anything really rang a bell anymore. Or something… the boy mumbled, agreeing with the dark Pegasus as he paced back and forth. All in all, Pan made quite a picture as his hooves carved and began to wear down a path in the tall grasses of the meadow. It wasn’t often that the boy found himself flustered, or even that he waned in his confidence. But Pan was living in interesting times… and for now, he was still trying to find his footing in Novus.
I suppose that I was here before. he said decisively, nodding as if to convince himself (despite the doubtful tone of his words). How else would I know that the meadow leads to a river, and the river to a cave? I found this there… he drew out a weathered scroll, unfurling it for the dark Pegasus without a care who saw them and judged. Written upon the parchment were scribbled notes about herbs, mentioning the very names that Teo had spoken. See here… it’s about Novus… it’s about plants. I’ve started to find them.
It was a good thing Mateo had a sense of humor, for the boy made about as much sense as a riddle these days.
Illustrating his point, Pan drew a bunch of dried bee balm from his satchel, tied together with a crude piece of rope. He grinned with pride as he showed off the flowers before tucking them gingerly back into the folds of his satchel. It seems that I have lost my memory, because I don’t remember any of this. Somnus said I was here before. The boy’s mention of the king is interesting, as he doesn’t truly know that the golden Pegasus is the keeper of Delumine. Instead, he simply remembers the sovereign as a friendly face (and one who had promised to join him on the search for pink dolphins). I think it’s rather strange though, don’t you? How can you know about a place, but not really know who you are or where you came from?
Mateo was never very good at taking things with a grain of salt. He listens quietly to the boy's story, taking every word at face value. When the scroll comes out he takes a step forward, gaze intently scanning the notes on the parchment. The scrawling penmanship is interesting, but something like a map or a riddle would have been much more exciting.
Then the boy takes out the dried bee balm from his satchel, but any significance to it is lost on the pegasus. Mateo has spent a significant part of his life reading, but he knows next to nothing about botany. The literature he prefers is either historical or fantastical in nature, and so he's never paid any attention to the dense technical tomes tucked away in the library. He is always after a good story, for good stories are at the heart of good songs. Regardless, he reaches forward with his nose to sniff at the unimpressive looking plant. The scent reminds him of sunshine at the edge of the forest's shadow, of dry summer days of childhood. He smiles to himself, pleased. There are stories in scents, too, although they are much harder to get at.
"So you're looking for these plants, hoping they'll trigger your memories?" It sounds like a grand adventure, and he thinks that the boy must be very brave to embark on such a quest at his age. "Hmm... well this all sounds like magic to me, or the work of the gods." It does occur to him that the boy could have hit his head, but that is such an incredibly boring explanation that he doesn't linger long on it. "Don't you miss your parents? They must be worried about you."
Mateo gently chews on his lip as he thinks over the full extent of Pan's situation. "I guess you could take this all as a fresh start. You can be and do whoever and whatever you want now, without the past to bog you down." He doesn't typically view the past as something that bogs him down, quite the opposite in fact, but sometimes optimism requires a divergence from logic.
Magic – the thought was a fanciful thing. Once, Pan had a penchant for magic. He had wielded the water element as if he were born to do so. At first, his powers had been something weak and fleeting, but with time he had grown into quite a skilled elemental. Then, these powers had been stripped from him, giving birth to a darker and wilder sort of magic. With the rift’s old magic, Pan could be anything he wanted to be. He had learned to fly, to travel through time… and perhaps it is the reckless abandon with which he used the dark magic that had led to his downfall. It was certainly a plausible theory.
No, he replied. I’m searching for the plants, because these are for healing… In the scroll, he flipped to the page which talked about bee balm. Take this one, for instance… it says it’s used for inflammation and cleaning a wound. He tugged a few wilting flowers free from the bunch. Here… you take some. Never know when these might come in handy.
He tucks the rest into his bag, a slender and pale ear flicking toward Mateo as he listens while reorganizing his stash. Without missing a beat, he comments. I don’t have parents. The statement is matter of fact, without a hint of emotion. For of course, Pan would have had parents, once… it’s just that he couldn’t remember them. On some days while he dreamed, he remembered bits of his mother, fair and beautiful, smelling of honeysuckle with a voice like an angel… but even before his memory had been taken from him, Pan could hardly remember his mother. At best, he had only a feeling of warmth and love which washed over him when he thought of her. And who knew who his father was… Pan liked to think that perhaps he might have been a pirate.
Sighing, he lets his mind wander away from the confusion, grinning instead at Mateo’s suggestion for a fresh start. I like the idea of a fresh start. What would you do, if you could do it all over again?
@Mateo (gonna start wrapping this one up since the borders are closed and pan should probably book it, but would like to try and close it out first <3 once mateo is able to wander, he should come find pan or once they reopen, maybe pan can come hang with him at the library (he loves books!)
Mateo's eyes light up bright green with pleasure. He grins and his tail feathers wiggle back and forth in joy. "I hope I never have to use it, but thank you." With his telepathy he reaches out to gently take the bee balm and tie it behind his ears with a few messy knots of his mane. It might just be a handful of dried plants you could find anywhere, but he still treasures it. "Thank you Pan." It is a gift and when he breathes in, that summery smell surrounds him like a warm memory.
When the conversation continues, the pegasus is impressed by how simply Pan says "I don't have parents." He doesn't even think to respond "I'm sorry," because the way the boy says it, it doesn't sound like a loss. It is as straightforward as "my name is Pan," and "this is bee balm," a fact with no emotion tied to it. Nothing to be sorry for, or happy, or anything at all. Mateo does not understand. He accepts it anyway.
"If I could do it all over again..." He repeats the question as though he's thinking of the answer. The truth is that he knew how he would respond as soon as the question was asked. Before it, even-- he knew as soon as he spoke of starting over. He's pictured it a hundred times, the way he would want his story to go if only he had the power to re-write it. He just doesn't know if he wants to say it out loud.
"If I could do it all over again, I would find my dad, and he would teach me the secret to singing without fear." The truth burns in his cheeks (I'm too old for dreams like this) and he looks away in shame. He couldn't lie to Pan after the boy had been so honest with him, but still... the truth hurts, even shared among friends.
- - - -
@Pan that's fine with me! and I'd love another thread with them <3 in the mean time, have an unexpectedly sad boy :3
The boy seldom lets life get him down, even when the chaos seems to surround them. There is just something jovial and buoyant about his personality that begs others to smile too. So when Mateo speaks of his father, Pan is a bit surprised to hear a note of sadness in his voice. He cannot know what happened to Mateo’s dad, but assumes perhaps he was no longer in this world. Death, Pan knew, could be a cruel thing. Though it had rarely touched his own life, he knew enough to step forward and place his teacup muzzle against the older stallion’s neck in a gesture of comfort.
I’ll bet you have a wonderful voice… there’s no need to be afraid. Best way to get over the fear is by doing it, I suppose! As if illustrating his point, Pan breaks into an off key pirate shanty, not concerned in the least that his voice was far from beautiful. If you ever want to sing along, we can always sing together. And if anyone makes fun of you, just tell them to bug off… life’s too short for worries. An insightful thought from such a childish creature.
He smiles easily, gathering up his treasures as the sun begins to set on Delumine. Well, I guess I should be going… best to get some rest before the it gets too dark. His necklace begins to emit a soft light in the dying shadows, guiding his path back to wherever the strange creature had come from. But I would love to hear you song… when you feel ready, you can find me at my cave… by the river. We’ll look for pink dolphins. And with a skip in his step, the boy races away, satchel jingling at his side as his raucous song rises into the air once more.
Mateo knows most every song that has ever been sung in Delumine, and countless others that have never been heard by anyone else. But he does not recognize the shanty the scaled boy begins to sing. He listens attentively to the single verse he is given, but even the structure of the song is unfamiliar. It is a small wonder, and a delight. And so the pegasus will leave here today with not just one gift but two: a small bundle of bee balm, and a song. One sits behind his ear and the other in his heart. Each seems to glow with warmth.
(was there ever a man so rich?!)
As far as the helpfulness of Pan's advice... well, he did not understand the full situation. Teo wants to say "well I have a great voice" but that would just be rude after Pan's gleefully out-of-tune singing. He smiles, even though the smile lacks heart, and shakes his head as if in disbelief. "You are wise beyond your years! Thank you, Pan." His words are sincere, even though he does not have the heart to explain that it was not the quality of his voice that was the problem. Mateo was terribly afraid of an audience, even a small one. Logic had nothing to do with it, or confidence. For years he had searched for a cure, but somewhere along the way he had given up and resigned himself to books and stories and songs that would remain unsung.
"Pink dolphins?" Mateo's question is left to the wind alone, and it goes unanswered. The boy is already racing off across the meadow, happy as a bumblebee. Mateo watches for a moment as the situation sinks in (what just happened) and eventually he laughs and continues to walk. He begins to improvise a song under his breath, quiet enough that only the prairie grass can hear.
"a boy always knows
what a man cannot,
a river always flows
where a--"
Soon enough boy, and man, and song are gone to the morning.
