[AW] His Corner of the Forest

[Lovis]

H

e stepped in rhythm to the swaying of the elder trees. For so long he had known this forest. He was familiar with its dance. Perhaps, given another century or so, Lovis would know it well enough for the trees to invite him to dance with them too.

Or perhaps they never would embrace him. Surely they would not if they were made aware of his inability to keep his own garden lively. If asked the man would not even be able to recount the last time that he had culled his plot of weeds. For even they were loath to grow for him.

He pulled his scarf tighter to him. The depths of the forest only knew meager light. Viride's giants clutched at all that the sun gave. What fell to the forest floor was merely what had slipped from their grasp.

Was it remorse for their hungry greed that led them to painting all below? Pale light sent by the sun was, by them, made vibrant. It was filtered by deep greens and became a warm dappled gold.

Looking up from the painted shadows was to meet the many bright eyes of the night. It was to see the stars finding a way to be wakeful in the presence of Solis. Pinpoints of daylight that sought out the gaps that the canopy failed to fill.

---

Dusk had cloaked the library by the time that Lovis came to its door. His time in the library was something akin to time spent in worship. Sometimes it was something more sacred and dearly held. So many years he had lived yet never did the library allow him to leave without having learned something new. It was with reverence that he came into its halls.

Were Lovis to ever offer his being to monkhood it would be to this library that he would humbly give himself.

Were he ever to be reincarnated he would hope to be born again as one of the library foxes.

He strode down the halls with the confidence of one who walks a path taken many times over by their previous selves. He knew every dip and rise of the floor.

What Lovis did not know was that his favorite place to read in the library was taken. He favored it for it being tucked away in an unassuming corner. An afterthought of the architect. Easily forgotten or overlooked by other patrons.

The pillows were timeworn. Their stuffing was tired and left them to slump. The pattern on the rug was a memory of its former radiance. It lacked the refinement of the rest of the reading beds but it was worn comfortably. It was a homely spot he had imagined to have melded itself to his own form.

Seeing another in his spot put a hitch in his step. He faltered but settled into a spot nearby."Might I ask," he shifted and fluffed the pillows until they were to his liking, "how long it is that you plan to stay?"

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[Willfur]

Willfur


The scents of leather, wax, charcoal, and parchment crowd into the stallion's nose like a group of old friends, each eager to be the first to clasp his shoulder and give a warm welcome back. He inhales deeply, glad of the quiet familiarity after long hours away, unwillingly immersed in drama and politics, assaulted by questions he can't answer in regards to past or future, and the resentment that always follows.

But how should he know such things?

Sighing, he flops down into a stack of pillows tucked into one of the semi-secluded alcoves at the fridges of the main atrium, a favorite spot for the mule, who enjoys watching visitors come and go from the library almost as much as he does studying the books and parchments collected therein. Unfortunately, he has only a moment to arrange himself, folding his feathered legs beneath him in a way that doesn't stifle the circulation, before a new voice breaks the silence, and this one doesn't sound particularly happy either.

"Oh, uh." He looks up at the stranger, exhaustion evident in his eyes, the lower lids visibly darkened and creased with stress, but his interest is piqued by the golden piercing struck through the other man's nostrils, the trappings of metal and luxurious green fabric encircling his neck with winking, ruby red jewels at its edges. Between these and the dark hair accenting the lines of his body, the stranger makes for a very exotic picture, with his long legs adding an elegance not common to horses of such a stature. He must be even taller than Willfur is.

"I was planning to stay a while-" He hesitates, "If that's alright?" There's no legitimate reason to be asking a stranger for permission to stay here, in a building that he has just as much right to as anyone else, but it seems like the most peaceable thing to do. "I'm Willfur. Would it bother you terribly if I stayed? It really has been a long day."

He probably would leave, or at least move out of sight, if the man insisted, but he dearly hopes it won't come to that as he exhales heavily, chin dropping to rest on a cushion pinched between his knees and his long, long ears splaying out loosely atop his head. Even a short rest would do him good, and a kind word even more so, but he's learned not to expect too much from these Novians, at least not at first. They're slow to warm up to things, least of all change, as recent events have shown in violent, vivid detail, and he's all out of energy to help anyone else work through anymore problems today.

Either the world will still be here tomorrow, or it won't.


"talk talk talk"
@Lovis

[Lovis]

A

gloom draped itself over Lovis and veiled his features. Quite suddenly the scroll before him was the most interesting thing to be found. Head bowed he scanned its text but could not say what it was that he read. He fixated on a stain that marred the parchment. Knowing it to be a fruitless labor he attempted brushing the mark away. Deeper he sunk himself into the cushions once he had given up the task.

Blinded by annoyance Lovis had not seen how spent Willfur was. Now that he had, Lovis felt the barbed stinging of shame for having even bothered the fellow.

How apparent it was that Willfur was a man without rest, driven ever on by beasts nipping at his heels. What a misery it was to be hunted by monsters no other can see. If he had found reprieve in the library Lovis would not be the brute who wrenched it away.

Picking his reading back up Lovis peered over it and regarded Willfur with a keen eye. He studied the man. He willed himself to make visible what it was haunted him. Lovis wondered if they were beasts of the sort that he could aid the weary man in slaying.

A sigh parted his lips, "Do not ask me. It is not my permission to give." He warmed his tone, "Were it mine, however," he offered a small smile, "I would insist that you remain as you are."

"Lovis, of Dawn Court." There was always a swell of pride in tying his being to Delumine. It might be said that it had been lifetimes since Lovis had been in love and that he would have little remembrance of a lover's touch. However that would be a misleading truth.

Lovis had never stopped being deeply, perhaps even madly in love. Unlike the lustful desires of most men, it was not flesh that lit the fire in his chest but instead the sprawling expanse of his homeland.

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@Willfur