A S T E R I O N
in sunshine and in shadow*
Asterion finds himself nodding at the bay man’s words, even as he looks away across the water. He lets them sink into his heart like smooth river-stones, little ripples echoing listen, and he obeys as Rhone continues to speak. At the sound of his sigh the king glances toward him, studying him as he speaks, and his smile is easy to return. He wonders what it might be like, to live in a jungle - too far from the sea, he thinks - but his interest sharpens as Rhone continues.
“Most of my teachers and companions have been women, too,” he says, and considers them for a moment, the ways in which each have shaped his life. From Aridela and Talia to Florentine, from Calliope to Marisol - whether soft dreamers or fierce fighters (or a mixture of both, as so many of them were) each have made him better, stronger, wiser. He wonders what he might of been, had he a father, an older brother - but then he thinks of the men he has known and looked up to (Isorath, Reichenbach, Raymond) and the ways each have betrayed him. There are good men, he knows - Eik is one of the best he has met - and he hopes Rhone is another.
He thinks he might be, as he regards the bay’s smile and the way the dawn light reflects in his dark eyes. Wisdom and humility seemed rare things, in Novus, but the quiet scholar reflects them both.
“I’m afraid not all lessons will be pleasant here, either. But I’m glad you’ve joined us, with your wisdom, and your magic.” He is a little rueful, at the start, though the smile does not fade wholly from his dark mouth - it is small but sincere when he meets the man’s eye. The sun is above the horizon-line, now, and the gulls have begun their clamor on the cliffsides; it is time for the king to return from his little pilgrimage, as much as he’d rather remain here, helping things grow.
“I will leave you for now, Rhone, but I hope to see you again soon. Find me if you have any questions about Terrastella - and thank you.” At the last he gestures toward the new sapling, where the water has soaked into dark soil. Asterion wonders who might be standing here beneath the shade of it, in twenty years or more; laughing children, and bright-eyed Halycon cadets ready to cast themselves from the cliffsides and soar above the sea, and solemn men like themselves.
Before he turns away, he presses his muzzle, briefly, against the other bay’s shoulder; and then he is gone, back down the cliffside as the sunrise begins in earnest, his heart lighter than when he had come.
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