"you really created this?" it's almost a statement instead of a question, évariste's hand trailing across the pale marble wall; he doesn't bother mitigating what awe he feels, although alongside that awe creeps in some terror. he is and has always been terribly out of his depth.
some part of him knows he should have come to celephaïs sooner — there was no reason to put it off. but standing here he understands why he did. he's a wanderer, a stranded adventurer in the dreamlands, not a sculptor of them, and standing beside the creator and king of this place he can't shake the latent fear that even he isn't immune to such powerful influence. "nothing i heard before seeing it myself did it justice." / @selfpres
kuranes twirls a yellow ginkgo leaf between thumb and forefinger; time does not pass in the valley of ooth-nargai, but sometimes the green skirts of mount aran turn yellow in a mimicry of changing seasons to please its king. he watches the movement for a moment longer, basking in the compliment, before letting a passing breeze take hold of the leaf and carry it down sloping streets. the fondness in the king's gaze is unmistakeable as he follows the leaf's frolicking path until it slips out of sight and his focus shifts to the view opening below them: clusters of buildings constructed of white marble and gilded roofs, separated by paved streets; clusters of people going about their daily lives, many of them heading towards the harbour for either work or leisure; cats, slipping out of their owners' windows into back alleys, undoubtedly to some conference with their kind; and in the distance, the snow-peaked mount aran and the sea-shore, and further still galleys sailing towards the purpling horizon.
"i did," he answers eventually. "though it was a long time ago now." there's weight and history in that long time, though what kuranes fails to tell évariste is that celephaïs was raised out of a childhood fancy, without any conscious knowledge or decision on his part. few know that celephaïs is not the result of intentional craftmanship and fancy kuranes quite the sculptor and architect and that suits him just fine.
it's refreshing to see his city through the eyes of a stranger. he can keep the comforts of his manor-house and the countryside waiting for a little longer. "it's quite something, isn't it? if you have the time, you should board a ship and visit serannian as well. i would be glad to host you in my castle there as well." then the king laughs, as though delighted by some private joke. he turns to regard évariste from the corner of his eye, gaze sharp and mouth turned upwards at one corner, as though expecting him to share in his amusement.
snowghoul
theartofmadeline
