This was where his journey began, standing at the edge of the plains with a sea of gold behind him and a river of green before. This forest marked the beginning of Delumine territory, the entrance to the Dawn Court.
Ipomoea hummed contently deep in his chest, imagining already what the first city of Oriens would be like: how tall would their citadel be? How many rooms could he get lost in, how many scrolls did they house? How many sages did they boast whose brains he could pick for knowledge? Would they accept him as their own, offer him their secrets willingly? Ipomoea could only imagine.
He had had some delays already, people and places and flowers that had distracted him and created turnarounds and holdups. This talk of the “relic” hadn’t helped, either—he was torn now between joining in the hunt, for such a thing could be as old as time itself, swathed in history and wisdom just waiting to be uncovered. But it had seemed he was behind in the search already, and besides, maybe he could come across it on his travels, anyway? No one knew where it had been, nor did they have any hints. Meanwhile, Po had something tangible to search for, a purpose that called him northwards. If he happened upon the relic along the way he wouldn’t complain; he had half a mind to consider the journey more important than the destination (even a destination as huge as the Dawn Court, the land of wisdom.) But he couldn’t take the time to stop and look for it. He treasured the names he had memorized, their stories and experiences and help nestled deep within his heart, but he had grown restless, eager to be on his way.
A breeze had kicked up from the west while he was standing there, tousling his hair about him. He lifted his muzzle to it, inhaling deeply, exhaling slowly, as though even just the wind currents coming from Delumine would hold some unspeakable knowledge, singing a story to enchant him, to guide him on his way. A tremor danced across his hide, down his legs, quivered inside of his lungs.
Everything was unfamiliar here, and, for once, he hated it. He missed home, he missed the comfort that accompanied recognition. The storm had finally passed and he had stumbled once again into a new land except, this time, Aion was not by his side. He had cried for what seemed like days with no end until now; he struggled to his hooves, legs weak with exhaustion. A cool breeze swept through the plain and the grasses shivered, nearly knocking him right back down.
He picked up a canter in hopes of covering more ground more quickly, but in actuality was probably just carrying him further and further from his mate. “Aion?,” he called desperately into the empty plain. “Aion??” His voice was raspy from overuse after days of hopeless shouting and his mind was despondent.
In the distance Eros spotted a horse and he could feel his heart jump into his throat. As he grew closer, it become obvious that its coat was far too dark to be his partner’s. Perhaps the other horse could direct him toward Aion, though? He slowed to a trot, then walk, and approached. “Pardon my interruption, but could you tell me where the hell I am? And have you seen my mate?”
tiny (awful) reply from my tiny (awful) horse c'x
also everyone is looking for the relic and eros is looking for aion hahaha
He could hear another equine approaching from behind, long ears twisting around to listen to the approaching hoofbeats. There was no reason he could think of to fear company: every other equine he had met so far had been infinitely kind to him, helpful even. It had bred in him an innate trust in the intentions of others, naive as that may be. So instead he waited contentedly for the other to approach, believing without a doubt that they would. So he did not bother to turn around, his eyes remaining focused instead on the forest stretching seemingly endlessly out before him.
And approach they did. The rough words surprised Ipomoea, and he turned his head sharply to inspect the white coated stranger. It was a struggle to make the beginning of the question match with its end, for it was like trying to fit two corner pieces of a puzzle together. It just didn’t seem to work, leaving him confused and muddled as a result. “Where are we..?” his own voice trailed off as he let the question process, turning over slowly in his mind. How could one not know where they were? Just in front of them lay Viride Forest, the Dawn Court, where all of Ipomoea’s hopes and dreams and goals lay. The idea that a place of such obvious importance could be mistaken for anything else positively baffled him. “Oh, here? This is Eluetheria Plains, we’re at the very northern reaches of Ruris,” he told the stranger, taking a minute to study his appearance before answering his second question. He had not met anyone outside of Solterra yet who had piercings like himself--maybe that was where this man was from? The blue marking his chest and legs however, those were entirely new to him, unlike any marking he had seen yet, especially on such a pale horse.
“I’m not sure? I haven’t seen another person in a while, but what does he look like?” And truly, he hadn’t. The plains were admittedly far emptier than he had expected, having seen not a single soul since leaving the Dusk Court. It was lonelier than he had thought it would be; perhaps venturing out was simply better with company. Even now, his better nature was calling him to help find this ‘mate if only for the sake of having a companion, but he still wished to charge directly into the Dawn Court. Maybe this fellow could find his friend there? He wasn’t sure, for he hadn’t given very much information to go off of.
“Oh, and I’m Po. Ipomoea.” After all, he would hate to seem rude or, even worse, disinterested.
@Eros
ooc: only eros is awful, def not the reply c’x
poor eros, his savior will come soon hahaha
!!!
Eluetheria? Ruris? What do those mean? The words were foreign, sounded like nothing Eros had ever heard before. He considered asking the other horse what he meant by them but instead nodded. Knowing what they meant did him no good if he didn’t really understand where they were in relation to anything else here. Anxiety built in his chest as he wondered what would happen if he couldn’t find Aion, if they were apart forever. He wasn’t used to this overwhelming sense of apprehension and panic; usually when he encountered new places curiosity was the principal feeling. This time, Aion’s absence brought a wave of fear over him. Eros had become so reliant, so docile; he wasn’t sure he could manage without his mate.
“Oh, Aion? He’s gorgeous,” Eros answered, dreamily. It was certainly not the most useful of information he could have offered the other man, but definitely the one that best represented what he saw in his partner. It was Aion’s looks that had attracted Eros to him at first, after all. A distant smile spread across his face as he pictured his partner. He loves Aion’s build: the unique arrangement of masculinity that results from his mixed breeds. He loves his feathers and the way they move as his emotions change. He loves his striking blue eyes and silky tail. He suspects if Aion still had his wings he’d be a sucker for those, too.
It isn’t just the physicality of Aion that he admires, though. His thoughtful, yielding, protective (although oftentimes overpossessive) nature helped Eros to realize how loving he could really be. It hit Eros suddenly, how many things he likes about Aion, how many things he aches for now that he’s gone. “You have to help me find him! We got separated in a storm and—and I really miss him.” Imminent tears stung in his eyes and soon began to stream down his cheeks. “Please, Po?”
tense issues all over bc of course eros still loves him c’x
and never soon enough lmao
The change in the stallion was almost immediate, leaving Ipomoea to observe in confusion as his brusque demeanor dissolved into something far more affectionate. His tone, also was immediately softer, those first four words spreading so much fondness throughout his voice and across his features, a trait that was in and of itself foreign to Ipomoea. He had been attached to people, sure; he had made friends everywhere he had yet gone, but friends remained the only connections he knew. Although he'd only known kindness, he certainly had never gotten closer to anyone than mere companions. All things considered, Po was entirely oblivious to the concept of relationships.
But it wasn’t until now that he had even stopped to consider that he was missing out on something. He was jealous of the way the mere thought of this Aion seemed to make Eros happy, to change his mood so drastically from rude to loving. If nothing else, they meant more to each other than anyone meant to Po, and it stabbed at his heart to realize.
Though of course the tone switched quickly again, but now at least Ipomoea understood where it was coming from. His better nature appealed to him to help, despite his desire to be on his way. He could feel a tug on his mane, Alorus trying to pull him along into the forest, but he was ignored. The story Eros told was believable, and coupled with his tears pulled directly at his heartstrings.
“Of course I'll help!" he promised him, taking a step forward to press his dark muzzle against the other's cheek in a brief gesture of friendship. He was almost certainly violating boundaries again with a horse whose name he had yet to learn, but the action came naturally despite that. "What did you say he looked like?” Determined to help now, he was willing to ask every equine he came across whether they were or knew of this Aion from this moment forward without hesitation. Already he was scanning the empty plain, as though through sheer will alone he could make another person appear. It was silly, but Po had always been and would always be an optimistic dreamer.
But it occurred to him that maybe—just maybe—he could both help this stranger and himself at the same time. He wasn’t sure if either Eros or his mate were from the Dawn Court, but where better to start than there, the center of knowledge? For all he knew, they might even keep records, or perhaps some traveler stopping there had seen him around. “Maybe the Dawn Court could help us look? They’re supposed to know a lot of things, or maybe he even went there himself.” It was a bit of a long shot, but maybe the pale stallion would take the bait.
@Eros
wait really, he does? c’x
dw eros at least he’s on novus now lmao
!!!
Po’s offer surprised him. Eros wasn’t sure he would have done the same in his situation, but then again he wasn’t very good with strangers (or with making friends). “Really, you’ll help me? Thank you, Ipomoea.” Eros was relieved, if only to a degree. He’d had very little luck looking for his partner on his own and the last thing he needed was to become was discouraged. Perhaps a companion to search with would be the perfect impetus. His eyes quickly dried and his frown was replaced by a smile, even as Po reached out to touch him. He sure seemed very young and very curious—the perfect person to adventure with.
“Oh, right. He’s white and has black markings on his face and leg, and um, feathers on his crest. He’s bigger than me, too.” He couldn’t find words to express how handsome he thought his mate was, but he hoped his vague description explained enough that if Po were to see him he would recognize him as Aion. “His eyes are blue,” he added, just in case.
Again, Po offhandedly mentioned an unfamiliar name. The Dawn Court? Eros began to ask what that was, but then thought better of it. Perhaps foreigners were unwelcome here. Po must not have taken Eros for an outsider (despite his obvious lack of comprehension) and had assumed he would have understood. For now, Eros would let it stay that way. He didn’t want to sound confused, or even worse, ignorant. “Maybe? Looking couldn’t hurt, I guess.”
idk, maybe he'll forget he loves him if he doesn't find him soon hahaha
yes and bc this is so late he even has /posts/ now! c'x
The relief on the pierced equine’s face and his drying eyes were reward enough for Po, a happy smile spreading across his features as he brushed off the gratitude with modesty. It was hard for him to believe that someone would refuse, save for out of necessity—but he was an optimist at heart, still young and naive and very much in love with the world. “You can call me Po,” he said simply.
The description he was given certainly was not the best in the world, but Ipomoea’s mind was already working on putting the pieces together, a puzzle piece of a horse that he was slowly filling in. “How blue? Like the sky blue?” he asked distantly, head cocked sideways as though in concentration.
His new friend seemed to agree with him, albeit hesitantly, but any reservations were lost on Po. The smile returned quickly to his face, stretching across his features in elation. “Great! The Court is east of us, but it isn’t very far, I’d say a day’s walk or so?” He took the first step in that direction, beckoning for the pale stallion to fall in step beside him. “Most of it is through a forest,” he added, unsure if that would make a difference to him or not.
It wasn’t until they had already started walking that it suddenly occurred to him that the previous introduction was only one-sided. A ghost of a frown crossed his features, raking his brain through and through to be sure he hadn’t just forgotten such an important detail, as uncharacteristic as it would be. “Oh hey, what did you say your name was again?” he asked innocently, eyes already scanning to either side in absolute dedication to his newfound duty.
@eros
that would be so sad hahaha, i think aion’s heart would completely shatter
he’s trying, yes! c’x none of them are v friendly tho lmao
“I’m here!”
“Okay, Po it is,” Eros complies and smiles. He had definitely said Ipomoea. Maybe he prefers his nickname? Eros supposes he could relate, though, his nickname far shorter and more convenient than his given name. Unn Iris Åse Frøya Sørensen. He thinks of Aion saying it, stumbling over the many syllables and unfamiliar sounds; he remembers smiling, and laughing. His smile falters. He doesn’t laugh.
They haven’t been separated for long, but it already feels like an eternity. He misses even the frowns.
Eros doesn’t want to picture Aion anymore. It only makes him think of what he doesn’t have now. “Blue, like the sky, sure. Or the ocean, maybe?” Eros remembers adventuring to the ocean with Aion. The water had been cool and the sun hot, the waves erasing his hoofprints from the damp sand as he had galloped down the beach. Aion had laughed and trotted along behind. Eros bites back the tears that begin to sting his eyes and throat.
“Does the forest have flowers? I could pick some to give to Aion when we find him.” He tries to will away his doubts with optimism, but he can’t quite get himself to believe it. At best they’ll be wilted by then, he thinks. At worst he’ll never find Aion to give them to. He wishes it’d be that, at worst, they’d wilt.
“What did you say your name was again?,” Po asks. ’unn ee-ris ah-seh fray-uh sorensen.’ One tear slips down his cheek, the only intimation of his inner thoughts behind his renewed smile. “I’m Eros.”
i think he'd be fine? c'x
they don't need to be friendly? C: as long as your replies are on time, unlike mine
The ground was soft underhoof, the sun warm against his back, and now he had a traveling companion—life in an instant felt good and well to Po. Alorus simply shook his head and burrowed into the loose hairs at Po's withers, building himself a little nest, sure this would take far longer than the interest he had invested.
Puzzle-like pieces were starting to fit together in his mind in what he imagined to be Aion. He envisioned Eros, but taller: devoid of his tattoos or piercings, eyes awash in an overly saturated blue made to stand out. Then he added black, a splash onto his legs like stockings on a bay, covering his face in a mask similar to what kids in the capitol donned when playing cops and robbers. The tail he braided loosely, all the way down to the end; and upon his brow he added feathers, similar to those on a cockatoo. Satisfied with this image he'd concocted, he smiled, nodding along to Eros' imagery of skies and oceans, imagination running wild with it. He was quite sure now that it would be impossible to mistake this Aion character.
“Oh yes,” he said over his shoulder, already halfway to the sea of green awaiting them, anxious to see what lay on the other side. Would Dawn Court be open, like a valley, littered with flowers and soft grasses and babbling rivers? Would there be buildings and libraries and books and novels for him to indulge in? What about the people, what would they be like (would they have accents, like the Night Court mare he had met)? So many questions ran through his mind, he had to shove them down in order to focus on Eros’.
“There should be lots, I heard that Delumine was supposed to have the darkest soil in Novus—lots of things should be growing in there!” Of course, he wouldn’t know for sure, as this was his own first time visiting (and hopefully staying); he hoped his inexperience didn’t show, for he did not want his new friend to abandon him in search of a better guide. “What flowers does Aion like best? I’m sure we could find some nice lilies or bluebells if you'd like?”
Again he paused and smiled, now near the tree line. The tear that slipped down Eros’ cheek was surprising, confusing even, but Po was quick to brush it off. Instead he reached his muzzle out in a warm greeting, a gesture he hoped was comforting. “It’s nice to meet you, Eros.”
“Let’s go find those flowers?” And with that he was off, turning to cross the forest's threshold.
@eros
then you can be the one to console him? C:
right, he doesn't need friendly c'x
also I thought here might be a good place to end it after your reply? ;u; w them disappearing into the forest together hahaha
“I’m here!”
Po seems enthusiastic about the flowers, at least, and it helps to pull Eros from his despondency. “It’s nice to meet you, too.” He offers another smile, with more intention this time, and follows Po toward the forest (still not altogether very sure where—or what—their destination was).
“I’ve never asked him his favorite,” he adds, and feels disappointed he has never bothered to ask, a frown pulling at his lips. Aion is more masculine, he supposes, his (poor) excuse for not knowing or ever having wondered. He’s also pretty certain Aion would be pleased with any flowers Eros brought him; Eros knows he would be touched by the gesture alone if Aion were the one giving them to him. “Maybe some roses, if we find them? And my favorite are tulips—I could give him some of those?” Eros imagines how Aion’s smile will look when he gives him the arrangement. He’s warmed by the thought, and tries to focus on the promise of reuniting with him.
Continuing toward the forest after his companion, Eros can only hope his journey with Po will bring him closer to finding his mate.
