The field stretched wide and green beneath a summer sky, and Pan danced among the ruby red flowers as swaths of sunlight filtered through the meadow. He was enjoying the last of the warmth, knowing that fall was coming with the undeniable bite in the air – but it didn’t bother him much. Though Pan was a creature that tended to follow the sun, he liked the prospect of colder temperatures and changing leaves. His entire existence to this point had been by the sea, and while he missed the ebb and flow of the salt tide, he was finding living near the river to be sufficient for his need. Plus, there was much more food to be found along the river’s edge.
Munching happily on the sweet shoots of grass, his tail switched this way and that, chasing away pesky flies (though he had to admit, the humming buzz they made was welcome in the silence). Peeking this way and that, he looked for his otter companion, deflated some when discovering that still, his friend hadn’t found his way here. Oliver was such a part of his life over the past few years, that he always seemed to wonder how he made it without his furry friend. But, the little otter always seemed to find his way back to Pan’s side. Perhaps it was only a matter of time.
”Hello! Is anybody out there?!” he yelled suddenly into the silence, wanting to hear anything to break the quiet. Singing quietly to himself, he tried to stave away the awkwardness of silence, heart heavy with the lack of company. It was wearing on the social creature to stay alone for such a long period of time, and he found himself wishing for company. Wondering aloud, his mind drifted toward Inkheart, and their worship session on the mountain. ”Solis… are you there?” But again, the god was silent.
To be honest, Pan was beginning to wonder if anyone was here, other than himself. Maybe he should go and search for Flora at the Dusk Court… at least she seemed to have made a lot of new friends.
There is some niggling feeling of discomfort in him, like a burr well-caught, as he watches the pale colt through the waving, reaching grass. It takes Charlemagne a long time to realize what it is, and when finally he does he feels ashamed.
It is too like his own arrival here, if he were Florentine, and the young stallion were him. The deja vu washes over him like a wave and he shakes his head, his golden horn catching the summer sunlight. The feeling makes him want to slip away, but the liver chestnut cannot. The memory his brief meeting with the Dusk Court girl is enough to send him trotting forward, determined to make friends.
He’s remembered the boy’s name - Pan - by the time he approaches, and is glad of the importance his parents had stressed in him to remember names and titles. He is less sure of the next thing the boy says. Charlemagne had a rough idea of the gods of Novus, but his own people had worshipped no gods at all, and he’d yet to speak to anybody here about their beliefs. Even so, he knows it’s Oriens that the Dawn Court claimed as theirs. It makes him curious, and it’s an uncertain smile he’s wearing when finally he reaches Pan.
“Well, I’m not Solis,” he answers, as soon as he is near enough to make reply without raising his voice. “And why are you looking for him, anyway? Aren’t you a member of the Dawn Court? I saw you at the meeting.” Immediately he regrets the question - or at least the tone of it - and wishes he’d asked instead if Pan had seen Solis before. But he says nothing more, and only watches the scaled stallion curiously.
There is something in the voice of the second male that draws a slight frown to the boy’s face when he turns. His eyes find Charlemagne’s and he wonders for a brief moment where he’d seen him before. Yes, at the meeting… but before that. He listens as Charlemagne mentions Solis, and nods emphatically. For surely this was not the god of the sun. Pan had, of course, been looking for Solis because he was lonely. But loneliness did not have to be fixed by the company of gods. The company of this stallion was plenty to keep Pan’s mind occupied. And in that moment of wondering, he remembered. ”I saw you… by the sea.”
The statement was matter of fact, just as Charlemagne’s had been. At the mention of the sea, Pan’s features softened some, and he laughed, just enough to break the awkward tension between them. ”I know you’re not Solis, silly. He’s a god. The god of the day, and the sun.” Scrunching up his nose, he looked around, wondering if the errant god would ever show his face. ”Inkheart told me about him, and we tried to call to him on the mountain… but he never came.”
More quizzically still was the fact that there was an implication here that he should not be worshipping Solis. Curiously, he prodded at the thought. ”All I know about is Solis. But Florentine said there were other gods here too. Do you know them? Can you tell me about them?” After all, it wasn’t that Pan didn’t want to worship Oriens, he simply had never heard about them. You see, the boy was new around here… and he hadn’t had much time to understand the ways of Novus yet. But ever impressionable, Inkheart had taken advantage of his innocent curiosity and snatched the opportunity to fill Pan’s mind with stories of Solis, her god of the Day Court. Perhaps then, if Pan knew that Oriens had more to offer, he would be worshiping appropriately.
“The sea?” he echoes, casting his memory back until it snags on the event in question. “Oh. With Martin?” He feels something like a pang of sorrow, remembering the other unicorn, who had been conspicuously absent since the Court meeting. Perhaps that was for the best; Charlemagne had a tendency to not get along with warriors, however polite they may be.
Instead of lingering on it, he remembers instead the way the pale colt had floated in the swells, hardly visible except for his head. At the time the unicorn had found it unsettling; now, though, having seen Pan interact with others, he glances at the other colt with interest. “How did you learn to swim like that? You were like a seal.”
Pan’s laughter is like a balm for Charlemagne, and he’s grateful for it, smiling at the other boy’s response even as he wonders about the gods in question. He had no reason to doubt they were real, but the idea of one appearing to him set his heart to strange thrumming. “I don’t know those you mentioned,” he says thoughtfully, though certainly if he knew who Florentine referred to this conversation would take a rapid turn. “But Florentine is right. I don’t know much about them, but I know Oriens is the god of the Dawn Court, and values wisdom and honesty. Solis is for Day, Vespera is Dusk, and Night is…” he trails off, biting his lip and furrowing his brow for a long moment as he struggled to remember. Eventually he gave up with a shake of his head, and glances sheepishly at Pan. “Well, I can’t recall at the moment. But I don’t know much beyond the names.”
But the question itself - and the knowledge that there is an answer, somewhere - is enough to revive Charlemagne’s eagerness to learn, and his green eyes are brighter when they meet the other boy’s. “We could find someone and ask? Or maybe go and call on Oriens ourselves. We’re of his court…do you suppose he’d be more likely to answer?”
Pan thought back to the day at the sea, remembering that he’d been out for a swim in the warm water. It had been his slice of heaven, if only for a short time. And in this wild world, it was the only ocean he’d see. He missed it, the smell of the salt, the cry of the gulls. It was the sea that called him home – the sea that soothed his soul. Sighing a bit as he remembered the happier memories he’d had at Eirhelm and Neverland, he offered the unicorn a whimsical sort of smile. ”I grew up by the water. Since before I can remember, I’ve always lived by the sea. And, I feel most comfortable in the water… less awkward.” For Pan was certainly clumsy on his feet. Poking at his scales, he added, ”Plus, I think maybe I’m part fish… not sure. I never met my dad, but maybe he was a merman.” It was, at least, a nice thought.
The boy was pleased to learn that he wouldn’t get in trouble here for looking for Solis. Everyone he’d met so far in Delumine had the same story to tell – that he should experience everything and make his own choices. It was a mantra he wanted to live by, and perhaps it is this freedom alone that keeps him here. After all, he hadn’t had much time to make new friends yet, aside from his beloved Florentine (and even she didn’t live in the Dawn Court).
”Where do you suppose we can learn about the gods? I haven’t seen many teachers, or even many books. But I want to know more…” Looking toward the highest peaks, he contemplated over Charlemagne’s suggestion that perhaps Oriens would show himself to them. ”We should go and ask on the mountain – see if we can get Oriens to talk with us. Maybe that’s why I never saw Solis, because he wasn’t mine to see… but if we can give Oriens something to please him, I’m sure he’ll be happy with us.” Rifling through his satchel, he drew out a round nugget of Pyrite, watching the way the sun flashed from its cube-like surfaces. ”Perhaps something shiny, like this… see how the sun hits it?” For in Pan’s world, there was nothing as apropos to show his appreciation as giving a gift. At least, they had to try.
”I’ll go with you, if you want… to the mountain. I don’t know how to worship right, but maybe there isn’t a right and wrong way? Maybe if we talk to him, he’ll come.” He had to hope.
Taking one step, then two toward the mountain, he turned back to see if his new friend would follow.
“I can understand that. I always felt most comfortable in the library…less awkward.” His smile then is a little wry, thinking of the unfortunate interaction with the white-blue stranger in Delumine’s library. That had been the direct opposite of less awkward, and he wonders what his haven might be, now. Perhaps he would have none, and would only have to accept his awkwardness.
But there are better things to dwell on, now, and he can’t help but come nearer when Pan points out his scales. With a ‘may I’ sort of look, he brushed his muzzle light as a whisper against a section of scales, wondering at the strange-to-him texture of them. When he withdraws again, retreating a polite few steps, it’s with a considering expression but a brightness in his eyes. “Maybe he was. I wonder how he met your mother? Perhaps they had a great and tragic romance.” He smiles at the thought, however farfetched; it reminds him of some of the books he’d read, of star-crossed lovers who couldn’t be together.
Though perhaps that was unfair to Pan - being a child of such a relationship might make it seem not nearly so romantic or desirable.
His ears perk at the other boy’s question, and he wonders just how much Pan had known about the Dawn Court before deciding to join them. Perhaps not everyone had heard of their great knowledge - but that was a reputation Charlemagne was happy to share. “The library at the Dawn Court is vast, and they’re known for their scholars…though there do seem to be fewer of them than I imagined. But I bet any answers could be found there.” There’s a strange reluctance tugging at his heart at the thought of returning so soon to Delumine’s ivy-covered walls - the day was so lovely, the meadow alive, and the chestnut felt freer here, away from the castle. It makes Pan’s suggestion all the more tempting.
He draws near again with the pale colt draws out the mineral, and the way the sunlight glances over its many-faceted surface does indeed make him think of the dawn. “That’s a wonderful idea,” he says, and means it - why shouldn’t a god want a gift? He only wishes he had his own to give.
Pan’s offer makes him smile, and shrug one dappled brown shoulder. “I don’t know how to worship at all. Maybe your thoughtfulness will make up for both of us.” With a glance at the mountain in question - not so intimidating, from this view with the summer lush around them - Charlemagne follows with both hope and caution.
