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Played by Offline Griffin [PM] Posts: 409 — Threads: 43
Signos: 2,548
Missing from Dusk Court
Male [He/Him/His] // Immortal [Year 496 Winter] // 16 hh // Hth: 52 — Atk: 48 — Exp: 99 // Active Magic: Water Manipulation // Bonded: Cirrus (Pallas's Gull)
#1

in sunshine and in shadow;

It’s an unusually cool summer day, and the rain patters gently down, beading drops on the wild roses and quieting the world to a murmur. Songbirds still trill from the cover of the trees and the sound of the king’s steps is muffled on the smooth round stones of the path. 

Asterion has never cared for summer the way he has the border seasons, but he does love days like this. The capital is sleepy in late afternoon and his gait is easy and untroubled as he turns down a winding street. At the end of it the hill slopes away to prairie and all the way is bordered with rows and rows of flowers, vibrant against the muted sky.

He’s smiling by the time he reaches the door, over which flowers in all shades of purple and pink cascade from an archway, a waterfall of blooms. There is a leather pouch slung against his shoulder and within is a cornucopia of teas and spices from across the courts and over the sea; such things he has never quite gotten used to, but he hopes the recipient will appreciate them. Perhaps next time he will bring her seeds and flowers from across the world; if anyone could make them bloom, it’s her.

The bay stands at the door as the rain falls around him, never quite touching a hair on his body; his magic, he has found, has more useful applications than he’d ever considered. Normally he wouldn’t mind the wet, but it seems rude to drip on a friend’s floor. 

“Fiona,” he calls, and gently knocks. 



@Fiona <3
Asterion.
credits






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Played by Offline Katherine [PM] Posts: 50 — Threads: 6
Signos: 15
Dusk Court Champion of Community
Female [She/Her/Hers] // 8 [Year 495 Fall] // 15.2 hh // Hth: 15 — Atk: 5 — Exp: 20 // Active Magic: N/A // Bonded: N/A
#2

in a world where you can be anything, be kind
It is a day that Fiona truly enjoys: soft rain, a cool morning.

She is pushing the last of a jar of baking supplies back onto a shelf in her kitchen and wiping down the counter. There is nothing that could make a day such as this any better except for freshly baked goods. Truthfully, a fresh baked good can improve any day if you ask her.

The cinnamon rolls are stacked upon a cake plate, the icing drizzled over them still cooling as she finishes cleaning up. Fiona thinks once it has stopped raining she might take them to the hospital, surprise Atreus, the doctors and the patients with them. Perhaps she can put a smile on their faces.

She’s just about finished when she hears the knock, and Fiona cannot help but smile when she opens the door to see Asterion standing there. Remarkably dry, she might add, despite the rain. Her lilac eyes brighten as she steps aside to allow him room to enter. “Asterion,” she says his name gently, so as not to startle him when it brushes its way into his thoughts.

For a moment, Fiona almost reached for a paper and pen, though she managed to catch herself. It’s a reflex now, she’s discovered. After years of communicating over written text, having a different way to talk—to be able to almost speak at all— is very strange. But every day she gets more used to it.

“You're just in time, there's some fresh cinnamon rolls in the kitchen,” there is spark in her gaze as she waits for his reaction, closing the door behind him and hushing the sound of rain to nothing more than a soft murmur.

"Thought-casting."
credits


@Asterion <3




[Image: 13772706_D0f7QJjLtyXb1qw.png]
with the lovely
flowers in her hair




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Played by Offline Griffin [PM] Posts: 409 — Threads: 43
Signos: 2,548
Missing from Dusk Court
Male [He/Him/His] // Immortal [Year 496 Winter] // 16 hh // Hth: 52 — Atk: 48 — Exp: 99 // Active Magic: Water Manipulation // Bonded: Cirrus (Pallas's Gull)
#3

in sunshine and in shadow;

He isn’t sure what catches him first; the scent of cinnamon rolls, fresh out of the oven, better than any smell he might have imagined as a boy - or Fiona’s voice, saying his name.

For a moment he is too surprised to enter. It must have looked comical, the way his dark eyes widened, the surprise on his face that quickly shifted to happiness. And then he’s grinning, ducking his head to her, stepping inside the warmth of her home.

“Fiona,” he says, out loud, but his eyes speak more: How? they ask, and I am so happy for you. It might have been stranger, but the oddity of it doesn’t cross the king’s mind, now when Eik has communicated with him much the same way. Anyway, he’s a man who has always lived half in his thoughts; to have a friend join him is not so peculiar as it might have been for some.

He searches for something to add, then, but by this time he is grinning like a fool and most sensible things have run out of his head. Soon, he hopes, he will hear the story of it - but for now it is enough to hear her voice. When it comes again, he flicks an ear toward her, though there is no sound but the rain and their breathing and she has not moved her lips; habits were hard to break for them all. His expression turns more boyish then, and he shakes his head with a laugh before stepping toward the kitchen. “Have I told you before how wonderful you are?” he asks, and touches his muzzle to her shoulder as he passes.

It is a different kind of wonder he wears as he regards the plate of rolls, their warmth and scent both filling the kitchen. Normally he still clings to the foods of his upbringing - wild alfalfa, and bluegrass, and all things that grew wild and untouched. But there are a few things of Novus that he would mourn deeply if he lost them, and here was one.

But the king restrains himself, if even just for a minute. He turns back to the paint, noting how similarly she was colored to the flowers outside in the soft summer day, and passes over the bag of teas and spices. “I brought some things for you,” he says, and his grin quiets to a smile as the rain patterns the window and taps on the roof. “And I think perhaps you have a story for me?” And his eyes are gleaming as though pricked with stars.



@Fiona can I have her as a real-life friend
Asterion.
credits






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Played by Offline Katherine [PM] Posts: 50 — Threads: 6
Signos: 15
Dusk Court Champion of Community
Female [She/Her/Hers] // 8 [Year 495 Fall] // 15.2 hh // Hth: 15 — Atk: 5 — Exp: 20 // Active Magic: N/A // Bonded: N/A
#4

in a world where you can be anything, be kind
The smile on her face broadens, cannot help but stretch and pull at the corners of her lips at Asterion’s initial reaction. Fiona dips her head to him, too, as he finally steps within the warmth of her home and leaves the world outside to its soft summer morning. His expression is so boyish, so full and wide and it reminds her of wonderful things.

Of magical things and childhood and her shoulders shake in what would have once been a silent laugh, but now it is accompanied with the gentle sound of her laughter, dancing in that nowhere space between their thoughts. Oh, Fiona can sing her happiness, her joy, she can laugh with the ones she shares her time with. She can voice her love, for she so deeply cares about so many. And know it they might, but to be able to tell them… She only wished her father were still around so that she might be able to tell him.

“I am never unprepared for guests,” Fiona responds in kind, still smiling, as he brushes past and she follows him into the kitchen. “Would you like something to drink? I have a pomegranate tea chilling, or water if you prefer?” She pauses, adjacent to him at the island when he passes her the teas and spices. Her lavender gaze browses the parcels with great joy and she can already imagine all the things she might make with them.

“Thank you, Asterion; I will think of you when I use them,” she says, and holding them gently as a precious bundle—any gift, given of the heart, is of course—turns to set them upon the counter behind her. At his prodding, she laughs again, a soft, musical sound. “The mystery is wearing off, then?” Fiona asks, turning back toward Asterion with a half-smirk.

She sets a napkin before him, for the rolls, and then her expression grows more fond as she remembers. “It was during the gift exchange, this past winter,” Fiona remembers how she had released that pressed flower, golden petals with a deep obsidian center, over the cliffs. Not so much as a wish, but in gratitude.

She is so thankful, so fortunate, to have Atreus in her life.

“Atreus asked me to meet him there, at the top of the cliffs. He had a little bottle full of a blue liquid,” she stops here, thinking about the tiny vial, “From the appearance it reminded me of healing potions or potions of youth from fairytales… it tasted horrible however.” She shook her head, a smile turning up the corner of her blush lips.

It had tasted bitter, and bland, all at the same time, and had lingered in the back of her throat for a very long time. “But, however he made it—whatever it was—after awhile I was able to speak,” Fiona shrugged a little sheepishly, eyes bright, “Well, sort of.”

"Thought-casting."
credits


@Asterion <3




[Image: 13772706_D0f7QJjLtyXb1qw.png]
with the lovely
flowers in her hair




Reply




Played by Offline Griffin [PM] Posts: 409 — Threads: 43
Signos: 2,548
Missing from Dusk Court
Male [He/Him/His] // Immortal [Year 496 Winter] // 16 hh // Hth: 52 — Atk: 48 — Exp: 99 // Active Magic: Water Manipulation // Bonded: Cirrus (Pallas's Gull)
#5

in sunshine and in shadow;

The sound of her laughter, merry and soft as the brook that weaves through Susurro, is more welcome and lovely a sound than the rain as it welcomes him deeper into her home.

It’s a lovely kind of wonder that wells in him each time she speaks, even as his gaze drops by habit to look for the pad of paper Fiona always kept with her. How much stranger it must be for her to not always reach for it; the king wonders if she’d always known how her voice would sound, or if the tone of it had surprised her.

“Tea sounds wonderful,” he says, and as she busies herself in the cozy, warm space of the kitchen he takes in the room, smiling as he remembers the boy he’d been and the shock such a room would have brought him. How strange it seems now, to think of a life lived in the wild, and so often alone. Now he can hardly remember what it was like to be lonely.

Her voice, that warm, strange echo in his mind, prompts him to lift his eyes to her, grinning at the expression she wears. “I’m too impatient for mysteries.” About as impatient as for cinnamon rolls - as she sets down the napkin he takes one, pausing a moment to enjoy the scent of it, thinking he ought to bring Moira to try them (and how sweet a thought that is, too.)

But as she begins her story the bay is attentive, dark ears pricked (though of course her voice does not travel through the air) and dark eyes soft as the clouds outside. How well he remembers those winter nights, the heat of the fire a barrier against the cold bite of the air, the warm hall where the people made art and Moira came -

Perhaps it is only because he is thinking of the pheonix-girl that he notices the tone of Fiona’s words when she says Atreus. He still knows so little of the man, but if he could make the lavender paint’s voice brighten so, it spoke well of him.

By the end of her story he is smiling, too, and reaches out to touch her cheek. “I’m glad it was worth the taste,” he says. “What a wonderful gift, and one so well deserved. Does it still feel strange?”




@Fiona
Asterion.
credits






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