Post by Aeneas on Oct 15, 2021 2:28:11 GMT -5
Shadows grew long beneath the waning sun.
The land became like the stars and wreathed flickered torchlight.
And at the core, a house wreathed in firelight and shadows rose like the sun itself.
He still couldn't tell what it was that brought him back. He had to travel halfway across the clover kingdom jumping from caravan to trail to foliage and forest. It showed on his clothing, marred with dirt stains and flicks of old blood. He was sulked and sunken over at the side of their walls and gates. There weren't any laws saying he couldn't. He imagined it would be implemented soon. He looked outwards, one of the lamps were flickering in the late-night just enough to illuminate the guardsman eyes, as they metaphorically dug his grave. Aeneas found little worry in it. He seemingly had the jitters and that didn't make a foreign man of dishevelled look any better.
He was there to speak with the Blake's. Though his timing was far from on point, arriving in the dead of night he had only been there for an hour and at the very least had made himself look comfortable. The duo had kept Grimoires at the read though he wasn't sure why as if the pieces were seemingly not managing to connect. He cracked his neck, tiny freckles of his magic speckled his hands with miniscule growths of plant life, sprouting and contorting around his knuckles and fingers as he waited across the streets. The duo looked with worried curiosity since he sat directly beneath a lamp his every action and turn of his hand exposed to them.
A few more minutes passed.
Life sprung.
Life died.
And so Aeneas did the same. The guards flexed their muscles in curiosity and sunken panic Aeneas Grimoire slowly losing it's coloured lustre before falling into his open palm, himself turning around and towards the bushes. It was dark, the fading light dissipating into the bushes along with him as he gathered a few of the sticks, twigs and brush and littered the sight around the lamp. He looked with an empty, if curious, gaze towards the duo guardsman their invisible ire slowly mounting as Aeneas made a slightly more permanent setup as opposed to making comfort from the coldness of the ground laying down and seeing the stars above, mapping out different imagery through the constellations with about as much accuracy as anyone else seemed to manage. His at least were shaped by dots.
In the small amounts of foliage, his grimoire fielded more of his tiny creations. The land was littered by bugs and the like and he made himself a strange magnet with the invisible fragrance of his plants. Only for the traps to be strung, sundews and Venus fly traps moved with alarming speed, snapping up the mosquitoes and ants that tried to make him their next meal. It had been two months and he had already found more use of his grimoire as a bug net than for combat, though even he recognized his lacklustre chance to engage in any combat.
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WC:517
WC:517
