stay determined...
Dawn had barely risen above the horizon by the time he reached his destination. The dark skies of night grew marred with the brilliance of the sun emerging from its evening slumber, the heavens set aflame in a brilliant woven tapestry of colors. For a moment, Somnus stood outside of the yawning maw, golden ears forward and at alert as eyes, the colors of shining emeralds witnessed the sun rise on another day. A smile, lethargic and stained with apprehension, crossed the dunalino’s dark lips before he turned his back on the beautiful display and disappeared into the lingering shadows of the shrine entrance, the fragile parcel strapped about his neck a cumbersome weight. The contents rattled slightly with every step he took into the shadows, his path illuminated by flickering lights through every step.
It was not his first time stepping foot here, but it certainly felt like it. The ancient energies of the world seemed to congregate here, collecting and manifesting themselves as invisible ghosts. Watching, but not capable of being seen by the mortal eye. Somnus knew them well.
Somnus’ path was clear; while the idles themselves remained vacant from their respective spots upon the altars, the Dawn King found himself drawn to the altar that represented Delumine and the Dawn Court proper. He lingered, his eyes tracing the outlines of all four altars, glancing about to the flickering candles, before letting his head lower and his eyes drift shut.
“Majesty,” he murmured, reverence a familiar tone upon his lips, “I pray not to intrude your peace, but… Your council is something I find I desperate need at this time.”
With care and poise, Somnus folded his legs and lowered himself to the ground before the Dawn altar. He took a moment to simply breathe, taking in the familiar scent of earth, smoke, and dust that seemed to collect upon this most sacred of places. Then, he got to work. Using the telekinesis that the very essence of Novus had mysteriously gifted him with, Somnus pulled the satchel from around his neck, mindful of the strap and the point of his horn. Letting it rest upon the earth, he flipped open the leather bag and began pulling out the contents, one by one.
First, a set of small, floral painted teacups. He set them precisely upon the ground; the first one, a little closer to the altar of Oriens before placing the second porcelain cup in front of himself. Then, he pulled a pot of lukewarm tea from the bag, which had been precariously packed between brush and bramble to remain upright along the sovereign’s journey.
“Apologies, your Grace, if the tea is somewhat cool… I would have flown far faster, but the risk of spilling the tea was one that I did not wish to take.” Still, in an attempt to warm it to a more desirable temperature, he leaned closer to one of the nearby flickering candles and held the teapot above the flame, letting the heat warm the liquid even slightly. Once satisfied that the tea wouldn’t be as cold, Somnus shifted back into position and filled the cups. First, to Oriens, taking great care to not slosh the tea over the rim of the cup or make any messes. Then, he filled his own, set the pot aside, and relaxed upon the dirt and stone.
As though the words were pulled unbidden from his very own lips, Somnus began to speak.“Delumine has received a visitor in the form of my elder half-brother, Atreus. I know not what to make of him anymore, but I fear his avaricious desires within Dawn. I’ve come to you before, and we’ve spoken of Regis’ illness and my plight to aid him… And now that aid has come in the form of a murderer.” Abruptly Somnus cut himself off, grimacing as though slapped with the memory itself of fire, screams, and blood. In an attempt to calm himself, the Dawn King took a quick sip from the tea, satisfied that it wasn’t as cold as when he arrived.
“… I’ve no proof that he murdered my late King, of course, but I’ve a feeling that in a desire for revenge against previous transgressions, he carried it out. Yet I know better than to offer condemnation on feelings alone. Warped though he is, Atreus is still my brother… Once, we were close. Oh, but I idolized the very ground he walked upon, looking up to him as though he were my entire world. But that was a lifetime ago, and he has always had a cruel streak within him, marred with jealousy.” The dunalino paused once more, this one lingering into minutes. He took another sip, frowned in contemplation, and then began to speak once more.
“Perhaps I am not here for advice. Perhaps I am. I no longer know. I thought him dead, Majesty. I thought Atreus dead, lost in the fires of Vhallen, and I was content with that knowledge… And now, he struts into Delumine and eyes my family like a wolf eyes a pinned deer. I cannot lose the ones I love again. I will not. Through your teachings, I try to be a kind and just sovereign in your name, but my fears have me by the throat. Am I to trust him? Or do I turn him away and risk losing my son? Gods, but Eulalie would never forgive me…”
And there, perhaps, was his answer. Could his marred heart, overcome with grief from a beloved King lost, stand there and condemn his son’s life just because of the previous transgressions committed between he and his brother? Could he condemn Eulalie to such a horrible pain, of possibly losing their beautiful, beloved son? No. No. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t dare. But what if his fears were sound, and Atreus brought more harm to Regis than good? Could his brother, with his twisted mind and warped sense of right and wrong, commit a crime so vile as to murder a child? Would Atreus stoop so low as to commit the very crime that was done against him, so long ago? Swallowing hard, emotion nearly choking him, Somnus lowered his head and took another sip of tea. It tasted far less comforting on his tongue, almost too bitter.
“… Perhaps this is all my fault. If I had done more, perhaps it would never have come to this.” And in darkness broken only by the flickering lights of candles, Somnus’ golden form lay hunched in the shadows, allowing his tea to grow cold as the thoughts swarmed within his head.
If only.
tag: @Random Events
It was not his first time stepping foot here, but it certainly felt like it. The ancient energies of the world seemed to congregate here, collecting and manifesting themselves as invisible ghosts. Watching, but not capable of being seen by the mortal eye. Somnus knew them well.
Somnus’ path was clear; while the idles themselves remained vacant from their respective spots upon the altars, the Dawn King found himself drawn to the altar that represented Delumine and the Dawn Court proper. He lingered, his eyes tracing the outlines of all four altars, glancing about to the flickering candles, before letting his head lower and his eyes drift shut.
With care and poise, Somnus folded his legs and lowered himself to the ground before the Dawn altar. He took a moment to simply breathe, taking in the familiar scent of earth, smoke, and dust that seemed to collect upon this most sacred of places. Then, he got to work. Using the telekinesis that the very essence of Novus had mysteriously gifted him with, Somnus pulled the satchel from around his neck, mindful of the strap and the point of his horn. Letting it rest upon the earth, he flipped open the leather bag and began pulling out the contents, one by one.
First, a set of small, floral painted teacups. He set them precisely upon the ground; the first one, a little closer to the altar of Oriens before placing the second porcelain cup in front of himself. Then, he pulled a pot of lukewarm tea from the bag, which had been precariously packed between brush and bramble to remain upright along the sovereign’s journey.
As though the words were pulled unbidden from his very own lips, Somnus began to speak.
And there, perhaps, was his answer. Could his marred heart, overcome with grief from a beloved King lost, stand there and condemn his son’s life just because of the previous transgressions committed between he and his brother? Could he condemn Eulalie to such a horrible pain, of possibly losing their beautiful, beloved son? No. No. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t dare. But what if his fears were sound, and Atreus brought more harm to Regis than good? Could his brother, with his twisted mind and warped sense of right and wrong, commit a crime so vile as to murder a child? Would Atreus stoop so low as to commit the very crime that was done against him, so long ago? Swallowing hard, emotion nearly choking him, Somnus lowered his head and took another sip of tea. It tasted far less comforting on his tongue, almost too bitter.
If only.
