Making her way through the city leaves much to be desired as far as what she considers to be a comfortable environment for herself. Over time, the gray has drifted from her lofty lodgings right here in the city square and into the ever-expansive, nature enveloped meadow. There, a small cottage at the end of the threads of society, Emersyn has chosen to live. Here, she can hardly think around the hustle and bustle of messy vendors and clumsy scholars. The city seems full of pigeons, and not just the mailing type. She moves through the entropy with the patience and grace of a skilled fighter, but the tension building within the navy blue pits of her eyes is similar to a spring being wound to its capacity. Still, the soldier sets a neutral expression and carries on, she has a mission to complete.
Returning into a thriving city stirs an ancient emotion long-buried beneath years of careful practice and meditation, and immediately she regrets having come in when she could have avoided it. It feels like she is disgracing the city, only the King could possibly know why, and for that she is grateful that he happens to be an understanding, and forgivable man. The Emissary cannot help but tread carefully, never lingering long enough to be engaged by those out and about. The marketplace that happens daily is modest and meek compared to what she has seen in Denocte, but even still, she can find the same kind of appreciation in her fellow Delumine civilians as they sell their wares. Down the main street, buskers try for their routine on the corner and manage a few coins off of the Emissary before she is on her way.
Winter produces a thinner crowd, and the blue roan slips through like a ghost, no one says hello or bothers to engage the woman. She has managed to look so stern that even in silence she can startle those around her. Emersyn has to try and keep herself as hard as iron as she moves towards the gates of the court. If she doesn't concentrate the bodies start lining up in the gutters again, she has to keep looking up to avoid the vision. Up until now, she has managed up until this very moment, when someone jars her from her left., and nearly topples her into the mud. The offender is an intoxicated man who tra-la-lah's around her before swerving out of her way when she snaps at him for proximity issues .. it takes everything not to knock him down to his knees. Emersyn swallows her fury and moves along but not before breathing steam at him. She only looks back once at the man who is swaying and singing loudly in the street. The fact that Delumine is just now starting to come to life again is the only thing that saves the man from ..
But wait --
Oh no. She stops, ears perk, she is certain he is talking to her. "I know you, come back here beautiful. I want to talk to you.. he yells, then laughs loudly. The stranger does not expect Emersyn to turn around and return to him. Something about the severity of her expression has the stranger trying to change his tune. Yet it is too late, by now the soldier has arrived, and making him feel quite uncomfortable by her silent, still, and oh so sterilizing aura. She smells clean like a hospital and not at all exotic like the gray beauty he catcalled for. She should have been a scolding teacher rather than running messages across town, yet here she is, fuming isopropyl and chlorine, harshing whatever mellow he thought he might have.
“And how is it that you know me?” Emersyn presses coldly, her eyes almost seem black. The drunkard shrivels, he cannot think of anything to say. He regrets everything and she knows it. “It would be in your best interest to get back inside and keep your absurd behaviour in check. This is a clean city, fool. There are children present. You should be ashamed of yourself.” Her frown not only shames him, but sobers him as well. Young colts who are across the way watch the woman dismiss her antagonist. They forget about the man’s foolish behaviour and, instead, worry about their own. Much later in their lives, they'll remember her - but for good or bad, the mystery remains.
Her attention turns elsewhere, however, not far down from here, and standing alone (what are these odds?) is the one she is looking for, the one that brings her into the city. From this distance she admires the light that dances across his warm toned skin, and the impressive wings on his back. Emerysn thinks about her work at home, a pair of unfinished wings, and how they look so much different than a pair of natural ones. If only she had a specimen to study while she completed her work -- her ponderings have left her at a standstill across the street. It takes someone else bumping her in passing to get her moving forward again. All intrigue has deserted her expression when she gets close enough to greet him. Hello there. Are you waiting for someone? She says plainly.
“Septimus, I presume?” Emersyn’s question is quite confident. She judges that this is her fearless flyer, the one who will help aid her, he fits the profile. “I’m Emersyn, Delumine's new Emissary. I'm the one who sent the rabbits to see about meeting with you today.” This close to Septimus, even Emersyn can’t help the fracture in her expression, it threatens to reveal glowing amusement, as if something has impressed upon her, the feeling of happiness. Perhaps it is the success of her young rabbit post, three black cottontails that have a knack for running messages in a timely fashion, which makes her smile. Or maybe it is Septimus himself, someone very handsome or someone very stupid, she cannot tell just yet. "Can I get you a cup of tea?" She gestures over at the baker who is always warming something over his coals, "I can discuss details and you can ask questions if you like."
@Septimus She doesn't use bird mail, she uses a warren of black rabbits.
12-14-2019, 02:44 AM - This post was last modified: 12-15-2019, 12:30 AM by Emersyn
the labyrinths of green / pit against all the world’s hungering.
Septimus is up early this morning.
Chiefly, what wakes him – with the dawn – is anticipation. Though he has technically resided within Delumine for many moons, now, he has spent relatively little time in the court. He only knows a few other individuals who are affiliated (in one way or another) with the Dawn Court, and he has spent very little time affiliating with the court himself. When the new sovereign, the man who’d sent him to Delumine in the first place, was crowned, he was miles upon miles away, studying some sort of strange tree in Terrastella. He was a naturalist, after all, which meant he had to do plenty of fieldwork, and he never intended to stay in – or arrive in, for that matter – Novus to begin with. It seemed unreasonable to spend too much time focusing on courtly affairs. His priorities were elsewhere, chasing after strange creatures or phenomena or his woefully-missing magic. It wasn’t lonely work, either. He met plenty of fascinating strangers in his travels, and there were always more to meet – as many, he was sure, as there were strange and new creatures and places to encounter on this continent. Best to take advantage of the situation that fate (or, rather, an unfortunate mathematical error) had thrown him into. He has always been good at handling whatever misfortunes that life has thrown his way.
The anxiety did not creep in until fall.
He was – mortal, now. Whether he liked it or not. He didn’t know how long he’d be mortal; he didn’t know if he’d ever be himself again. He needed to get used to it, and he needed to get used to living a life in the way that – mortals – lived their lives. That meant spending a bit less of his (limited) time in the field and a bit more around other people, or so he’d been told. (A fulfilling life, he’d been informed, was one that was not lived alone.) That meant at least making the attempt to find a place for himself in Delumine. Unfortunately, he’d never lingered in any one place for long enough to discern how to do that. Fortunately, he didn’t have to.
To his surprise, he’d been working when he’d been greeted by a group of black rabbits. To his further surprise, they bore a message from Delumine’s new Emissary, who claimed to have need of him for something regarding Viride Forest. Septimus had no clue what he was needed for, or how she’d found him in the first place, but he was somewhat elated at the opportunity to do something, so he put any suspicions he might have had aside for the moment. It would be a chance to do something for Delumine, and, considering how little he knew of the court, any opportunity to involve himself was valuable.
It was with that thought in mind that he strode into the court that morning, making his way quickly to the place where he was supposed to meet with her. The air was crisp and cool, and, were he more enamored with winter, as he had been when he was still immortal, he might have found it refreshing. As it were, he tried to focus on the livelier scents – on bakers and tea-makers and the wafting scent of coffee and spices that permeated the market streets.
He is vaguely aware of a commotion behind him, and he turns his head to gaze over his shoulder; his eyes catch on a grey mare, in some sort of complication with a man. (All eyes on the street had turned to stare at them.) They were too far away, and he could not make out what they were saying. It didn’t matter, he decided, because she seemed to deal with the situation quickly and then strode on in his direction…
And then right up to him.
She introduces herself as Emersyn, the Emissary, and the one who sent the rabbits. (It would explain what seems to have scared that man off.) Her physique is capable. Androgynous. She is certainly far from delicate. Her coat and hair are monochromatic, a meddling of greys and whites, but her eyes are stark, deep blue. They are not the color of ice, or the color of a sky. He is not sure what shade of blue he could compare them to – they are closest, he thinks, to certain gemstones (a cornflower blue sapphire, perhaps), and just as hard. They are briefly warm, in the most fractional way, and then cold again. “Emersyn,” he repeats, with a nod of his head; a warm smile spreads across his lips. (He delights in most any kind of company.) “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Your rabbits were quite impressive.” In spite of his emphasis on the quite, there is not a hint of derision in his tone; he sounds genuinely impressed, likely because he is. He has spent enough time studying rabbits to know that attentiveness and obedience are not their best qualities, and he cannot imagine the time and patience that went into training her rabbit-messengers. (Frankly, he isn’t sure that he wants to – he tries not to think too much of time, lately. Not when he is suddenly so painfully aware of it.) He can appreciate anyone who is willing to put so much care and effort into such flighty little creatures; the memory of the trio of fuzzy black rabbits bounding up to him while he was in the middle of painting one melancholy scene or another would be enough to make him smile, if he weren’t smiling already. They’d been clumsy, and somewhat disoriented, but they’d managed to get their message across, in the end. He found them charming, and he was sure to give them all pats on the head (with the joint of his wing) before they went bounding back to their caretaker.
She offers him tea. And answers. He dips his head appreciatively, sending the jewels on his antlers clinking. “Tea would be lovely, thank you,” he says, following her gaze to the baker. “…And so would an explanation. I’m happy to help with whatever Delumine needs, but I am curious about what the assignment is…” And how fliers related to the forest, at that.
(Still. Anything to be of use.)
AND RARELY, IF THE WOOD ACCEPTS THE BLADE WITHOUT CONDITIONSthe two pieces keep their balance in spite of the blow❃please tag Septimus! contact is encouraged, short of violence
