There are two things to be hunting on this island. Three, if you include a god.
It’s a wicked thought that crosses his mind, one the appaloosa is not used to. But times have changed, the world has changed, and oh, the boy that once sang of flowers and sunshine has had to change alongside it, like the waves eroding away a cliffside. Life had become a game of choices and gambles, of actions and consequences, of love and laughter and yes, even hatred. Ipomoea is not yet sure if he possesses the latter, at least not yet - but there is one thing he knows. Anger has become a wild thing inside of him, a beast that takes the place of the uncertainty and guilt he once knew.
And with that anger came determination.
The sea has long since torn free the braids from his crest, so his mane tumbles in long, disheveled strands down his neck. His flowers have wilted and fallen away, so his brow is barren and pale. Even his eyes have gained a steeliness to them that even his closest friends from Delumine may not recognize.
He stands on the beach, wings furling and unfurling, reaching out to skim the waves that rush past his hooves, looking out over the ocean. He thinks he can see the shore of Novus today, so bright and clear are the skies overhead. The water is a blue nearly as deep as the heavens, so that when they stretch endlessly out to the horizon they seem to melt into one another and become indistinguishable, like two lovers embracing.
Ipomoea closes his eyes, and breaths in deeply. One heartbeat; two heartbeats; three heartbeats fill the empty space. Lub dub. Lub dub. Lub dub. A drum beating slowly inside of his chest, a crescendo waiting to rise.
When he opens his eyes he turns away, letting the roar of the water drive him away. The sun is hot and heavy, burning his back as he crosses the beach, but he imagines that it is setting him aflame instead, a fire that turns him golden, that hardens him like steel in a forge.
Ipomoea has few weapons to fight with. He is no soldier, nor skilled battlemage. But even now flowers bloom in his hoofprints in the sand, and the sandpipers and beach crabs are like a cloak trailing behind him.
He thinks of home, and he sees trees burning. He thinks of denocte and he sees flames rising into the night sky. He thinks of the island, and he feels the heat of the volcanic ash stinging his cheeks.
And the anger continues to rise like an ocean inside him.
The island holds many mysterious and hidden things, he knows. And Ipomoea intends to find at least one of them.
Anger is something Katniss knows all too well. She knows the anger of a fate dictated to her from birth. She knows the anger of those who try to destroy the only home she cares about in this moment. She knows the anger of a lost friendship, kinship, of someone who has turned his back on his home. She feels anger towards Raum and his attempt to destroy Denocte. She feels anger at the Gods for destroying Novus in a way that she could only dream of in Nightmares. Anger is a strong emotion that Katniss does not feel that often. She instead tries to feel empathy, hope, and love.
Even though there is so much to be angry about, Katniss chooses to feel love. She chooses to allow her feelings for Metaphor to rise to the surface and dictate her each and every move. In fact, she prefers knowing that love has conquered all, that love has pulled her and her lover together after being miles and oceans apart. Love was the thing that stitched each of her cells together. It was love that bore her and it would be love that took her away. Yes, she had so much to be angry about, but love and hope seemed a far better way to feel. At least with love, there was a hope for a better future, a hope that something better would come from all of this.
It was hope that brought her back to the island. She had explored her when it first was revealed, her curiosity getting the better of her. She had wondered how such a beautiful island could come from such a dangerous volcano. But then again, isn’t that how much of Novus works? Things come out of the ashes. This island was one example, her determination to prevail over Raum another.
She is standing on the beach, the wind whipping through the silver of her mane and tail. It thrusts her hair forward and she has to work hard to keep the strands from her eyes. But as she closes her eyes to take in what the island is telling her, she can sense that she is not alone. She can hear the thundering of his footsteps as he works hard to cross the dry sand. She can hear the breath forced from his lungs, the way his hair flaps lazily in the spring air. And as he comes near to her, she opens her eyes and turns to look at him. She recognizes him from Denocte. He is from Delumine, but that is all she knows of him.
Slowly she turns to face him, her body poised at the ready to intersect him. She knows why he is here, it’s the same reason they are all here. Something is hidden on this island, someone that could be found and used for great good or for great evil. It was something that Katniss felt might help Denocte in ways she could not. It was something she needed to find. “Have you come in search of the relic?” She knows the answer, but she asks anyway. And as he pulls closer to her, she looks at him and there is a sense of sadness that washes over him. The last time she saw him, he was far happier. Now he was dark, his happiness all but faded away leaving the shell of a man he once was. For a moment, Katniss says a prayer that he would find his happiness again. He was a breath of fresh air amongst the chaos of the world today. She did not want him to lose that part of himself for it would be far too hard to find again.
There was a small part of him, a part he had crammed into a deep corner of himself, out of sight, out of mind, that knew better. Anger was still a foreign emotion to the young regent, one in which he had little experience. Let alone untethered, unsupervised, unrestrained outrage, the same brand of fury that curled now like smoke through his lungs.
It would have its consequences, there was no doubt. Rash and impetuous decisions always did, when the adrenaline wore off and regret was all that remained, when realization dawns in the aftermath.
But his magic loves his anger, leeching onto it; the blood which sears his veins, burning like liquid fire, loves it. His anger is the fuel it desperately needs, and it swells beneath its nurturing care.
But somewhere his heart is weeping.
It turns away from the heat that is burning up his arteries from the inside. And Ipomoea smothers the sounds of its distress from his mind.
He sees her from across the beach, her long, pale hair matching the color of the sand as it dances on the wind, at times obscuring her face. But he doesn’t need to see her eyes to know how red they are. He’s seen them before. The memory of that scene, dawn breaking over a burned and blackened market, is still fresh in his mind. It’s the smoke from those fires - and many other fires - that still taints each breath he breathes.
The distance between them grows shorter with every step; he doesn’t need to turn towards her, it’s as if the very island is drawing them together, putting them on the same path. All she has to do is turn, and then they are facing one another.
The wind lifts the hair from her face just as her eyes open to meet his. For a moment they’re both silent, save for the sifting of sand around his hooves as he walks.
And when Ipomoea stops, all the beach crabs and sand pipers stop with him, circling about him on land and in the air, as restless as he is. He thinks, if he listens hard enough, he can hear the cry of a sea monster in the distance, as if asking him: Why did we stop? There’s work to be done, there’s gods to hunt. He has no answer for them.
”Have you come in search of the relic?” Her words breeze gently through his mind, over and over like a mantra. Empty space stretches between them as he looks at her and thinks.
Ipomoea is searching - but he also isn’t. There were many things he hoped to find here, and he would be happy even if he only found one. But he shortens his answer to something simpler, something easier to voice: "Yes."
He wasn’t the only one, he knew. The island was crawling with other horses, horses from all around Novus. Regardless of Court, regardless of their diverse backgrounds and dispositions, still they had come. Magic was irresistible like that.
"And you?" he asks softly, as the wind claws at their manes. "Are you hoping to find the relic?" Or was she looking for a god, for a silver king, for a monster?
This island has brought her away from Denocte, away from the places she knows so much and the people she loves. She wishes she had brought Metaphor, for he would have found such beauty in the island. So many new plants and animals, just waiting for their secrets to unlock. Perhaps there were medicinal plants on the island, an animal who’s saliva heals. So many possibilities and she was so eager to learn them all.
But as she stands here, looking out at the ocean, she can see the monsters that circle the beach. She wonders what would happen if she were to step out from the relative safety of the beach. Would she be attacked? Eaten? Left alone? Again there were so many possibilities.
But her attention turns to the Ipomoea. She turns so their eyes meet and she offers him a friendly smile in greeting. The last time they met was under such unusual circumstances. But here on this island, most where here in search of one thing or another. The magic of this island called to everyone, each one here for their own reasons.
As silence envelopes them, shielding them from the sound of the waves, she wonders what he is after. And so she asks if he is also after the relic, the item that seems to call to so many. While she is curious, she is not driven by greed but only knowledge. Perhaps this island had more for her to learn about than just the magic that roams here.
He answers yes, that he is in search of the magic relic and she only offers him a nod. It was an answer that so many seemed to give, though if it was true was something else entirely. But it is when he asks her the same that she pauses in silent reflection. She could not deny that the relic was a driving force, that she would rather see it in the hands of someone responsible rather than someone who would use it to cause harm. But that wasn’t completely why she was here. “I cannot deny that I am here for any another reason…” She pauses a moment as she looks over her shoulder out at the sea. She thinks quietly before she turns back to him. “…but the relic is not all I seek.” She sighs, knowing that she should want riches and fame, to be the victor that Denocte needed. But sometimes, magic was not all that was needed.
After a brief pause, she looks back up at Ipomoea. “This island is a wealth of knowledge just waiting to be discovered.” Above all, Katniss wants to learn. She wants to discover all that this island has to offer. “…I’m open to what the island wants me to discover.” If that was the relic, then so be it. If it was a new treatment for an illness, then she would bring it back for their medics to use. Whatever this island wanted her to learn, she would learn.
He supposes that, in the end, they’re all the same. The island has a way of turning them all into equals, kings and soldiers and scholars alike. They all come here searching for something, without knowing what they may find.
Perhaps that was the entire purpose of the island. To remind them all of who and what they were, to give them something new and wonderful to discover.
Or perhaps he was getting it all wrong.
"Is it all anyone seeks, truly?" he asks softly. Of all the people he had met, all of them had alternative motives for being here (he was no exception.) In that way, the relic was only a guise for their true purpose - be it hunting, adventuring, seeking, hiding, or something else. He knows; he is no different, after all.
But he waits patiently for her to go on anyway. Whatever it was that Katniss sought was between her and the island.
And as she speaks, he can’t help the way his eyes go back to the waves, watching them dance and tumble over one another, seaweed playing in the surf. It’s green and it’s blue and it’s as white as the moon, and through it all he can see something dark and massive hiding there.
What are you hiding from? he wants to ask it.
"You sound like a true scholar now," he says gently, turning back to Katniss. And then he smiles at her, and as he turns to walk down the beach he bumps his shoulder gently against her own, a silent invitation to join him. "They say the best way to understand the world is to let go of any expectations you have of it."
He pauses to turn over a seashell with his hoof, revealing a bright orange and blue-streaked pattern. "Not everyone can handle that kind of knowledge, though."
Because sometimes, knowledge was something terrible and dark and unexpected.
She could not help the way she wanted so badly to understand what this island wanted her to understand. She wanted to know what sorts of secrets it hid so expertly from view. This island had popped up from nowhere, grown from the sea and sky. There was magic here, she could feel it coursing through her veins. And yet, this island was illusive and secretive, never showing all its cards. Katniss had to respect the island, she knew the game it was playing and it was a good one.
As Ipomoea came towards her, bumping her shoulder with his own, she fell into step with him. The invitation to join him was quietly accepted, figuring that perhaps he would be good company. It seemed as though they sought similar information from the island. Both sought out the relic but both seemed to seek out other knowledge as well.
At his words, she offered him a kind smile, looking from him back towards the sea. “I have always tried to keep myself open for learning and critiques.” She had been raised to never underestimate someone or something, that one could learn just about anything if one was open to it. Being that she was raised a warrior, she was taught to be open and observe, to study others and the surrounding to best suite her. This island was no different, she was watching and learning all about what this island had to offer her. There were so many questions she wanted to ask, but she knew those answers would not come easy.
His advice has her smiling and slowly, she turns to look at him, her eyes washing over the features of his face casually. “You sound like my mother. She said the same thing to me at one time.” That had been one of the first things her mother had taught her. She could not assume anything. She had to let go of any preconceived notions and just observe. Things would reveal themselves to her and some things would become obvious whereas if she had any preconceived ideas, those revelations might go unnoticed. Perhaps that is why she had become so successful in the world.
She looks down at the overturned seashell, admiring it’s beauty for a moment before she continues on. She listens to him reveal that not everyone can handle that sort of knowledge and she knows it is true. “Knowledge is not always good. It can be dark, evil, trying. It can change your outlook on life.” She had seen that sort of knowledge before, but it did not change her quest for it. “But even still, all knowledge is worth learning.” There was an abundance of knowledge out there just waiting to be discovered. Katniss had heard of Delumine’s library and she wondered what sorts of knowledge lay there as well. “Speaking of learning, would you have me come visit your library? I should like to spend some time there reading.” Perhaps there were more secrets to overturn, more information to uncover, more things to learn about herself.
He nods his head along to her words, but his eyes are turned to the sand before them. It’s strewn with seashells, bright specks of color against a bone-white shoreline. It seems sacrilegious to walk over them or to crush them beneath his hooves, so he’s picking his path carefully. It’s therapeutic, and her voice is strangely soothing, and although he knows he’ll be back on his hunt soon, for now he’s content to walk slowly beside her.
He can still feel that anger, the ire that should be foreign but felt alarmingly familiar, hiding just beneath the surface of his skin. But it’s tempered now, in Katniss’ presence; and for that, he was subconsciously thankful. Ipomoea had yet to learn that anger was a disease, a fire that would only burn and consume until there was no fuel remaining. That secret part of him, the part even he did not yet understand, was thrilled at the prospect; and he did not know enough to be afraid of it.
But for now, it’s nice to simply live and let live, here on this island of relics and magic and monsters.
Ipomoea even allows himself a bit of laughter when she compares him to her mother, and the act lifts a knot of tension from his chest. “Seems your mother was quite wise,” he said, flashing a smile in her direction. “Was she a scholar?”
But her next words have a way of sobering him up, and he can feel the smile fading away. “That it can be,” he says, and they begin to walk again, leaving the overturned shell behind them. “But nothing ventured, nothing gained. Comfort is not an excuse for ignorance.” For a while he had thought it was only the scholars from Dawn who were able to caution learning so naturally; it was refreshing in a way, to find a Denoctean who spoke the same.
“I would love it if you would visit,” he says sincerely, and doesn’t hesitate to nuzzle her shoulder. “Anything you’d like to read, I’m sure you can find it there.” He had heard that the library contained every scroll and book imaginable - when he had first been raised to Emissary, he had spent quite a bit of time in the forest’s halls, reading all he could about Novus and the four Courts. It had always amazed him how large the library truly was (he had lost himself several times down obscure hallways and hidden paths), but had always wondered just how much it truly contained.
Since his duties had started in earnest, he had spent less and less time studying. One day, perhaps, he tells himself. One day I’ll have time to read again. But for now…
He turns again to look at Katniss. “But for now, I believe we have a relic to be looking for, yes?” And then he smiles again, and this time when he turns he lifts his legs into a trot, gesturing for her to follow.
Perhaps having a companion to explore the beach with was exactly what he needed to keep the anger at bay.
@Katniss | "speaks" | notes: i thought we could begin closing it out, maybe? <3
The conversation with Ipomoea came so easily. It was something she didn’t have to force out or spend too much time thinking about. It simply flowed from her brain to her lips and returned in that same circular neurologic pattern. It was a conversation that brought her away from her hunt for the relic, wanting to protect the relic from those who might do harm to Denocte. It was funny, perhaps, that she had even paused to talk at all. Normally she was focused and determined. But today, something was different. Something about this island made her speak and act differently than she was used to.
They speak of her mother, a topic she has so rarely spoken of. Her mother had been a kind a gentle soul, wanting nothing more than to contribute to her own monarchy in the only way she had known how. She was not a fighter, but one who hoped for a better future. Katniss had been the better future, at least in her eyes. “I don’t know if she would call herself a scholar. But she always had her kingdom’s interest at heart, followed closely by my own. She was a dreamer of peace, hoping to one day see a time when warriors were no longer needed. But until that day came, she was always yearning for more. So yes, I suppose she was a scholar.” She may not have called herself a scholar by label, but if Katniss had to think back on her mother’s actions, they certainly felt like scholar od diplomat might apply.
They trail from her mother to her own pursuit of knowledge and Katniss asked Ipomoea if she might be welcome in Delumine in order to spend a few days in their library. While she had never read a book before, just the thought they a book contained so much information for her to learn and put away was exciting. Just knowing that there was such a wealth of knowledge only a days walk away was almost too good to be true. And when Ipomoea gives her permission to visit and spend some time in their library, Katniss cannot help the smile that tugs at the corners of her lips. “Thank you. I will make the trip in the near future.” She was not sure when she would find the time, but she would try to make the effort to visit. After all, to ignore the wealth of knowledge just waiting to be explored would be a missed opportunity.
And then Ipomoea brings the conversation back into the here and now. It is a sobering thought that they must stop their pleasantries in order to try and hunt down the relic. She knows that they both seek it for scholarly reasons. It’s nothing that she knows with any sort of proof, but it’s just a feeling she has. “I suppose you are right.” And when he turns to trot off, she follows him, at least for a little bit. “Thank you for giving me something to hope for.” She is sincere. She is thankful for their conversation, the hope that it brings.
But then she pauses at a fork in the beach. She has a choice to make and she knows that Ipomoea will have the same choice. Will she continue to seek this relic on her own, or stay with him. She is quiet for a moment of contemplation before she looks back at him. “Good luck on your search. My the odds be ever in your favor.” And then she turns, taking the path he is not destined to follow. Only one can find the relic. While the company has been nice, she knows she is here for reasons that go beyond what she has said. She needs to go on this journey alone, to seek something only she can find. Perhaps this wasn’t really about a relic at all, but about finding out something about herself, something only she can journey to find.
The feel of the sand beneath his hooves is reassuring, sinking up to his fetlocks, warm from the sun. It’s easy to fall into the mindless task of jogging, to work out all of the tension through the use of his limbs.
“We could all use a little more hope these days,” he tells her as they make their way down the beach. Even here and now, when Ipomoea himself does not feel very hopeful at all, still he tries to give it away to others.
Maybe it was hope he was searching for on this island after all. Maybe he was thinking the Relic might afford him some of that, if only he could find it.
Maybe, maybe, maybe.
Ipomoea doesn’t know what to think, or what to do, or what to be. So for a while he lets himself stop thinking, and lets himself be simply a part of this wonderfully broken place.
Katniss pauses, and he turns to look at her. His eyes are cherry bright in the sunlight, now that a little bit of the darkness has left him.
He tilts his head to her, as she started off down the other path, leaving him to his own journey.
“And to you as well,” he says, watching her go. After a minute Ipomoea turns, and heads towards the forest.
