flowers grow back
even after they have been stepped on
Winter had settled in across the court, bringing with it a cold front that seemed to seep into Ipomoea’s very bones. It had become more and more tempting to stay inside by the fires, to wait out each snowy day until the sun brought back spring. The cold had already driven most of Delumine’s residents indoors.
But the sudden desertion in the streets was unsettling. Aside from a few groups of children having their traditional snowball fight, and a couple tucked against one another as they wandered the capitol, Delumine was quiet.
While not inherently unusual, Ipomoea found it worrisome all the same. So leaving the warmth of his hearth, and bidding one last goodbye to the stone bird sitting on his mantel, he opened the doors and greeted winter.
The cold took his breath away when he first stepped out into the courtyard. The appaloosa paused for a moment, staring up into the grey sky. But then he grit his teeth and, wrapped his slender wings tightly around his fetlocks, put his head down and braved the brewing storm. A few flakes of snow had already begun to drift down and settle on his pale back by the time he reached the tavern.
He wasn’t going to enter - Ipomoea had never been a common face at the bars, the drink and noise and lack of inhibitions had always turned him away before he reached the door - but from inside came a sudden roar of laughter, and as the door swung open he could see the light and warmth coming from inside. He hesitated, watching them all. Indecision turned his stomach into knots, as the young sovereign swallowed thickly.
And then with one last glance over his shoulder, he pushed open the door and entered the tavern (possibly for the first time in his life.)
“Hello,” he had to work to keep his voice from trembling, to ignore the sideways glances the patrons and bartender alike gave him. “A water, if you please.”
The bartender nodded, unable to refuse, and set the glass down before him.
And as he sips his water and listens to the noise of the tavern all around him, he begins to wonder whether he should have stayed outside.
@ipomoea
open to any!
12-09-2019, 07:46 PM
Played by
Chaosy [PM] Posts: 143 — Threads: 21 Signos: 0
The tavern wasnt a place that he frequented. Heck... Had he even been in the tavern in Delumine before? Sol flicked his ear as he thought and then shook his head. Trudging into the warmth, he made his way to the bar and found an out of the way place where he could warm his wings and wouldnt start any fires with his hooves.
"Tea, please..." He asked the bartender, his golden eyes traveling over the others that were making merry in the warmth of the building. Seeing another that seemed to be not drinking alcohol, Sol approached and dipped his head. He had no idea who the other stallion was, not one to pay any attention to the goings on in the court when he could be exploring the world.
"Hello there." He greeted, not committing to the possible conversation if the other stallion was just there to be alone or enjoy his drink in peace. Sometimes, he had seen others that got rather grumpy if they were interrupted when they wanted only solitude.
@Ipomoea
"Speaking." Notes: If you want them to meet <3
flowers grow back
even after they have been stepped on
The crowd is riotous all around him, a cacophony of music and voices and merriment that he, alone, is silent throughout. From the corner of one cherry-red eye he watches the tavern, as several horses take bets around a dart board. The first player hits the board within the triple ring, and the onlookers roar their approval.
The meaning of the score is lost on him, but still he watches as the next player steps forward to toss their dart.
The scene is temporarily cut from view as the stallion walks past. Po is still thinking about winter, still thinking of the way snow and ice must be clinging to the building like it, too, wants to be warm, like it, too, wants to be welcomed inside. He’s thinking about the way his own back looks like it’s dusted in snow, like maybe he should return to it and find somewhere else to lose himself in his thoughts - when the stallion greets him.
Ipomoea looks sideways at him, the dark stallion who seems to fill the room with his very presence and yet, is not at the center of the noise like so many others are. “Hello.”
There’s no recognition in the other’s eyes, and for that, Ipomoea feels a curious mixture of sadness and relief. Sad, that there are still too many people who don’t know him, who haven’t accepted him as their own after his absence; relief, that the stranger isn’t avoiding him because of who he is. The bartender has already avoided looking him directly in the eye - Ipomoea had been considering leaving when the stranger spoke.
So he offers a small smile, to let the stallion know he’s welcome - but with a loss of words filling his mind, he says nothing else.
“Hello.” Sol nodded and smiled softly. "I am Sol. How are you today?" He asked, trying to make pleasant conversation with the stallion. His tea arrived and he paid his balance before taking a sip of the hot liquid. It raced down his throat and he sighed softly before turning back to the stallion as he waited for an answer.
"Come here often?" He asked, groaning inwardly as he realized that it sounded like a pick up line. "I mean. Is this a favorite place of yours? This is the first time I have come here." Goodness, he was fumbling over himself like a yearling. Shaking his head, he stopped talking and waited to see what the other would say.
flowers grow back
even after they have been stepped on
It’s easy enough to return the other man’s smile, so he does - along with an amiable nod of his head and a subtle shift of his shoulders so that he’s leaning towards the other man, rather than away. It’s tempting enough to block out the rest of the noise of the tavern and the cold of the winter outside, but still Ipomoea keeps one ear back to listen, head tilted towards the din. An envious flower is blooming in his chest, a quiet discomfort in knowing that he will never be exactly like his citizens, like the patrons in the bar; nor would they accept him if he was, he thinks.
”Well enough. I’m Po.” He slips on his nickname like he had never abandoned it, like there wasn’t a dozen documents to sign each day with Ipomoea. It’s an old habit, the same one he picked up when he went to Denocte; and it comforts him now, to let go of his title for a while.
He has to hide his smile - his automatic response to the question, a nervous quirk of his lips as he glances quickly around them - with a quick sip of his water. ”No, I mean - I’ve never been here before, either.”
He shrugs, setting the glass back down on the counter, avoiding the bartender’s eyes. ”But it looked warm enough, and friendly.”
I need someone who sees the fire in my eyes And wants to play with it...
”Well enough. I’m Po.” Sol nodded and smiled, seeing if he could warm the stranger with kindness. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Po. I dont spend much time in the court... I prefer exploring and trying to get a solid grasp of the land rather than butting my nose in where it might not belong. That, and I am still getting a solid understanding of Novus and those that call this realm home. I came from a land much further away than I like to realize, so part of my adventure has been to try to figure out who I am now that I am here." Pausing, he realized that he had been in Novus for almost a year already. The idea blew his mind and he had to shake his head. "Hmmm.. I suppose that perhaps it is time to take a better interest in the courts. I have been in Novus for almost a year already and barely know what is going on here." Sol laughed, a striking change from his more usual grumpy nature.
”No, I mean - I’ve never been here before, either. But it looked warm enough, and friendly.” Sol nodded. "Sometimes warm and friendly is a wonderful thing. A nice break from the wintery chill outside. The opportunity to meet new faces and perhaps make new connections doesnt hurt either. Not that I have a real role here. I am a merchant, though I havent figured out how to really create a place to sell from, nor what might be desired as wares. The joys of trying to find a place to fit in." He was babbling a bit, clearly a side effect of spending so much time with Bel and her happy ways.
flowers grow back
even after they have been stepped on
It is a strange feeling, to be spoken to like he wasn’t a king; and it’s hard for Ipomoea to remember that this had once been how everyone had addressed him, and how everyone had acted around him. It settles now like a shadow in the back of his mind, a selfish part of him that wants to tell the stranger his title - the small part of him whose throat tightens when Sol admits his ignorance, the part that wants to correct him for it. But he doesn’t, at least not yet, because he can’t force the words to form on his tongue.
So he only watches as the dark stallion speaks, nodding along every so often, a small smile that almost betrays his amusement hiding in his eyes.
“Some might say it’s good to spend more time out in the world.” Oriens knew that too many Delumines preferred to stay at home in the Court; perhaps it was better, in a way, to have more citizens like Sol.
But of course, the Dawn Court was also about knowledge - and he knew better than to applaud a lack of that, however noble his intentions may be.
“But it’s also good to have a place to return to,” he says instead. “What is it that you barter in, Sol? The Court’s trade market is quite poor lately, it would be good to see more variety here.” While he speaks he catches the bartender’s eye, and signals to him for a stronger drink.
“Some might say it’s good to spend more time out in the world. But it’s also good to have a place to return to, What is it that you barter in, Sol? The Court’s trade market is quite poor lately, it would be good to see more variety here.” Sol felt a surge of frustration. He was trying to build out a conversation with this stallion, but it was seeming more and more that he didnt want to actually have as much conversation. A soft sigh escaped his lips and he paused his thinking to take a drink of his tea. Hmm... There might be one last drink left in that cup.
"It is nice to have at least the idea of belonging. It is a challenging thing to have when you dont know anyone, but claiming a home can be positive in and of itself. I find myself only having met a small group of those that live here, most seeming nervous about my size and the fact that my hooves are alight." He was just speaking, finding himself wanting to get his words out so that he could finish his tea.
"In terms of trade, I previously was the middle man for a friend. He was a blacksmith, creating weapons and metal goods. I did the sales, because he was terrified of the process of bartering. We split the proceeds from that adventure. I have yet to find a reliable source of goods to sell, though that has been part of my search as I travel the realm." Sol answered honestly, golden eyes traveling over the other stallion before he took his final sip of tea. With a deep breath, he shook out his frame and dipped his head.
"It has been a pleasure to speak with you, Po. I do hope that you enjoy yourself." He said in parting, a smile on his face in attempts to at least leave the conversation on pleasant note. Who knew... another horse might fill his place as soon as he left and Po might find the conversation that he desired. Turning on his heels, he paced out the door and into the fresh air.
flowers grow back
even after they have been stepped on
It seems so sudden - the way the stallion drains the last of his tea and then stands. Ipomoea had only just begun to relax in the conversation, to inquire about the other stallion’s life and person - and now it was ending.
“The pleasure was all mine,” he stammers instinctively in response, watching Sol head towards the door. ”Stay warm out there.”
A breath of snowy air fills the tavern when Sol opens the door, the white landscape beyond stark against the warmth of the building. Then the door closes again, and the tavern seems all the louder because of it. He takes another sip of his own drink and cringes.
”Not to your liking?” He turns to see the bartender beside him again, and smiles apologetically. ”Is it that obvious?”
The dark haired man behind the counter only laughs and takes away the glass. ”I’ll get you a few samples,” he says, and by the time he places the first darkly colored brew before him, Ipomoea can almost forget how out of place the tavern had made him feel.
