and at last i see the light, and it's like the fog has lifted
Solstice had been here almost a year now. She could remember the day she came, as if it was yesterday – the way the sun had fallen on the flowers, warm and welcome. The way Ipomoea had welcomed her, without questions or demands, with simple kindness. She hadn’t known then that he was the king here, but had learned of it as she’d wandered, finding herself even more impressed with his humble demeanor. For in her past, Solstice had known only ruthless leaders and kingdoms built on rigorous structure and authoritarianism. She’d had no voice, no free will, no autonomy. But in Delumine, she had it all.
In the time since she’d come to Novus, the shy girl had gained a quiet voice. Her words held weight here, her desires obeyed, her confidence growing. Now she had built herself a home, modest but warm and personalized. What had started as a simple room now brimmed with books and paintings, with flowers perched on the windowsill and bright sunlight streaming through bits of colored glass to cast kaleidoscope patterns on the floor. Warm straw filled a comfortable bed, scented herbs creating a soothing space for her to calm her spirit and reflect, finding her peace. It was everything she’d ever wanted. But now, Solstice found herself wanting more…
She wanted to belong to the community here, to give her talents toward a greater cause. During the last year, she had been content to watch and to float along, like a feather in the wind. But now, the mare had felt a twinge of calling, watching the way healers had selflessly treated the hurts of their people, and finding herself curious to know more. Long into the winter nights, she’d read books about herbs and treatments in the library, finding her curiosity only growing with every new bit of knowledge. Now, she knew it would be her calling here – to heal and to help.
So Solstice wanders toward the garden, remembering that during their meeting long ago, Ipomoea had suggested he spent considerable time there. Spring in the court’s garden was beautiful, flowers brilliant with color and birdsong filling the air. She followed along a bubbling brook, tawny eyes watching as golden fish slipped between the rocks, lazily swimming beneath the crystal blue surface. Somewhere in the distance, a musician sang with a haunting voice, as much for herself as for the small audience which gathered to listen.
And when Solstice finds the sovereign, a smile breaks widely across her face, bright and warm as she murmured to him in greeting. "I thought I might find you here…”
e likes to wander the gardens when he has too many things on his mind to think.
Today he can feel them all pressing in against him like coyotes, teeth pressed to his thoughts and snarls echoing in his veins. He keeps turning into them, turning east — turning to the desert, where most of his thoughts keeping turning in a manner he can only attribute to inevitability.
Ipomoea can feel the desert consuming him. Even from here, even in his court of flowers and old-growth forests; he can feel it growing closer day by day. At times he stops and turns to it, imagines the haze of the horizon to be the shimmer of the desert. And again and again he wonders —
He wonders if he will ever be soft again. If he will ever be content again.
And he wonders if he can ever walk among the people of the Dawn court and look them in the eyes again, knowing his heart is split between this court and another. Between this world and another, for Solterra is as much a world away as those that lay beyond the sea.
But in the garden he can feel it slipping away again. The desert is reduced to a grain of sand that lingers in the back of his mind, overwhelmed by the petals and the roots and the leaves he fills it with now. The roses brighten and smile as he walks by them. The sunflowers turn their heads to face him as though he were the sun they were waiting for. Wisteria and ivy reach out to pat his sides when he walks within their reach. And all of them are whispering as they touch him, welcome back. Welcome home. We have missed you.
A piece of his soul that he had not realized had been torn free is again settled as he walks the garden paths. It feels, as it always feels, like he is an orphan boy again seeing a garden — a real garden, not the cactus-and-ocotillo gardens in the desert — for the first time. He bids the gardeners the day off, and sets to work.
It is in a wilder part of the garden, where roots crisscross the dirt paths and ivy chokes itself along the walls, where she finds him. A leaf presses itself along his spine to warn him, and Ipomoea looks up in time to see the girl from the meadows smiling before him.
“Solstice,” his voice is soft, the orphan-boy who has not yet found his voice. But he smiles at her, and stands. “I’m glad you found me. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
and at last i see the light, and it's like the fog has lifted
He seems at peace here, with bright blooms around him, seeming to reach toward him. It was strange, she decided, the way their faces turned toward Ipomoea, following them as he moved from place to place. But it was not the strangest thing she’d seen at Novus. In her time here, Solstice had begun to experience all sorts of magic. She wouldn’t be surprised if the king told her that he too possessed a magical talent, for it seemed that Tempus had blessed his patrons with all manner of strange and wonderous gifts.
For herself, Solstice preferred to keep things simple. She had found that simple things delighted her – holding a steaming mug of herbal tea as she stared out at the sunrise, cat curled at her feet and books scattered upon her desk. She relished in the quiet and peace of the morning, when mist was just beginning to curl along the grass and sunlight doused the world in hazy hues of pink and gold. As she turned from the window every morning, her heart longed for the dawn again each day, though the promise of tomorrow always brought her comfort.
Now, beside her king, she can do little more than nod at the sound of her name, a flutter of nerves bundling in her stomach. She had come to ask for his trust in serving Delumine more, but wondered if he would find her worthy, even as she finds the words. "For starters, it was a beautiful day for a walk. I try to visit the gardens every day, because you’re right – they bring me peace and every day, I’m greeted by something beautiful that I’ve never seen before.” Illustrating her point, she turns toward a twining vine of morning glory, watching with wonder as petals opened wider toward the sun (or toward Ipomoea, she couldn’t be certain which).
"But there’s something else I wanted to ask...” She steels herself for a no, stumbling for a moment over the words, clearly nervous. "Over the winter, I found myself at the library often. I read all manner of things, but found that there were many books about healing which interested me. I’ve read all about the flora in Novus – the healing herbs, the flowering plants. It’s been a while now since I came here, and I think it’s time that I show Delumine I can do more…”
She smiles then, the nerves fading as she finds his eyes with hers, warm and golden. "I would like to be a healer, with your blessing… Rumors have told of a hospital in Terrestella, and perhaps I can go there, to train in the craft?”
he garden feels more alive when Solstice joins him. There is a quiet peace in the rhythm of her hooves against the loamy earth. The ivy tangled around the fence posts no longer look like sentries guarding the gates to a secret place. When he looks past her the trees scattered along the path look more and more like secrets of laughter than of fear. Around them the garden seems to sigh, like the earth remembering how to breathe.
Ipomoea smiles at her. Sometimes he spends enough time with the flowers and the curling vines and the sand and soil, that he forgets the horses who walked overtop it all. Sometimes he feels more like a tree than a person.
But it is always in companionship that he remembers.
“I’m happy to hear it.” His voice is full of that secret love that exists only for the earth. That part of him that lingers beneath the violence he was born into, that was pressed back into him when he went to war, that his own Emissary had tried to take away. It rises now in the shape of flowers unfurling in the morning sun.
And he is glad, in a way he hasn’t been in recent days. When he looks at Solstice he does not see the shadows that hide in the forest, or feel the ever-present calling of the sands. He does not feel the endless need to be searching for something he cannot name, something that runs as much in his bones as it does on the wind.
He feels only the sunshine, and the brightness of the earth lighting up in him. And he is glad that there is someone else to share in it with, someone to find the same peace as he does here. When she speaks, Ipomoea forgets about all the restless parts of his soul that feel like lies or nightmares caught in a dreamcatcher.
He follows her gaze to the curling morning glories, listening to the nervous tremor that suddenly fills the spaces in her voice. The flower reaches towards her when she pauses to steel herself (as if it, too, is giving her strength.)
When he finally speaks, his voice is reassuring in all the ways he does not know how to put into words. “When I was a boy I used to think there was a greater calling for me that led me to here. I did not know then that a calling was what you made of it, rather than fate alone, but I have seen many since then who felt moved to another purpose. People like yourself,” and here he meets her eyes, watching as the nerves are replaced with a look that is warm, and golden —
and at peace.
“If this is your’s then I will not stop you from going and reaching for it. Go with my blessing,” it was the way of the Dawn, he knew, to go and seek higher things. To see the world, and learn from it. And so too was it their way to bring their knowledge home to the Court when the adventure of it was said and through.
So he meets her smile with one of his own, when he presses his muzzle to her shoulder and says, “and maybe, when you return — you may return to us as our new Champion of Healing.”
and at last i see the light, and it's like the fog has lifted
There is a warmth and a peace which washes over her while standing beside Ipomoea. It is a feeling she will miss, when he leaves this place to move on to whatever came next for him. Rumors had reached her that he would be departing Delumine, and she for one, would be sad to see him go. But still, she understood the need for change, even as she saw the way the flowers reached to him, as if begging her to stay. Solstice knows though, that it is not her place to council the king on her own beliefs – so she does not mention any regret at his leaving. Instead, she nods graciously to his suggestion and affirmation that she should heal, shock and surprised pleasure crossing her face as he adds the added weight of responsibility.
“Champion of Healing? Are you sure? I mean… I would be honored, certainly.” She pushes away the doubt, standing a bit straighter, as if accepting the burden of challenge. If anything, the title would push her to do her best, would remind her of the weight her contribution would give to the Court. It would be the boon to keep her moving forward, to share her knowledge with others, to build their ranks to support the health of their nature. It would give her purpose, and for that, she smiled with grateful acceptance.
“Do you have any advice? I haven’t ever been champion of anything before… no one has ever asked for me to lead.” In truth, it wasn’t that Solstice didn’t have leadership capacity, only that she had been hidden away for so long, she’d begun to believe her influence didn’t matter. Here, it could. The thought of it blossomed within her, as more than ever, the Sovereign reassured her belonging and acceptance in this place. Her home.
For it was now, more a home than anywhere she’d come to know before. Here, she had found her peace and her purposes. Here, she was building a better future – one bright with hope and promise. “I won’t let you down” she whispered quietly, for only the king to hear, as she bows her head and lets his flowers reach toward her, brushing against her as the sallow sunlight warmed them with summer’s light.
