created to create
His smile is soft, nearly hidden yet ever-present. Perhaps it was more habit than anything else, or maybe the Regent truly was happy all the time. He was an optimist at heart, and a dreamer; life was always vibrant and bright when he was around even on a rainy day.
Even when the world was aflame and queens were dead or missing - but that was a talk for another time.
Have you?
He lifts his eyes from the book, turning them to Mateo instead. “I have not,” he admitted. “Unless you count glimpses, but those may have been more imagination than anything else, a trick of the mind.” For a moment, he was thoughtful. Ipomoea did not spend enough time at the Rapax, especially where the water ran deep enough for the dolphins to enjoy. He always told himself he would visit more - but then again, he supposed the infrequency of his trips were precisely what made them so special.
“But I know honest men who claim to have seen them, and I trust them and their writings.” He nods towards the book in question, with its worn leather cover and fading, golden title. “Perhaps one day I will, I would like that.”
But when? His mind is turning into a wicked thing, with its doubts and its questions. He would much rather live in sweet, eternal oblivion - and for a while, Delumine had been that for him. The Dawn Court was a field of red flowers and a good book, the fragrance of petals and parchment and the warmth of the sun. It was easy to lose himself in joy and peace when every day was spring within their borders. Somehow Delumine had a way of staying pure even while the rest of the world struggled; like a breath of fresh air coming off the ocean. And yet…
He lets out a shaky breath, unaware that he had been holding it while the silence stretched between them. His eyes float around the room, from the stacks of books to the shaded window, anywhere but Mateo.
“I’m leaving.”
The words felt strange on his tongue, like he shouldn’t be speaking them. They didn’t belong to him, couldn’t belong to him. Who was Ipomoea, if not the Regent of Delumine? And who was a Regent, if he abandoned his court? Even being certain in his choice, he still could not believe he was speaking the words aloud.
“I’ll be on my way to Denocte by nightfall, and I- I need someone to be my eyes and ears here while I’m gone.” Finally out of places to look, Ipomoea finds himself returning to the verdant gaze of the pegasus. For half a heartbeat he can’t speak, his tongue tying itself into knots. But he can’t stop now, not yet.
“Will you, can you do that for me? I know we’ve only spoken a few times, but I-“ he couldn’t say for sure why he had chosen to go to the pegasus. Mateo was friends with Regis, who was like a nephew to him, and he was well read and charming; but it was the language they shared that drew the Regent to him. It was one of songs and stories, of daydreams and love, flowers growing through a concrete forest.
“But I know when I can trust someone.”
@mateo | "speaks" | notes: text
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