05-11-2020, 10:26 PM
The tabby tom often finds himself lingering within the manor; the moors are wonderful and wild and vast, but the manor is equally grand to behold as any of the rolling hills. Icarus likes the imposing structure of brick, shrouded by fog in the early mornings, he likes the grand staircases and echoing halls, he likes the scents ancient oaken banisters and dusty leatherbound books, likes the crackling of his fireplace at the far east wing. It's all just so very... romantic. Like it had jumped right from the pages of one of his novels, pouring forth from spilled ink and bleeding onto the wispy uplands. He rather enjoys thinking of it that way, every blade of grass swaying in the wind another broad stroke of his imaginary pen.
Still, the midday sun beckons him into the open air, with horses to tend to and other knightly duties to fulfill. And then there is Safflower's call, meeting already-pricked ears and bringing him to pause in his tracks. He turns, pads towards the duo, and with a silent dip of his head he settles. Their names are already familiar — they two had greeted the lion when Aurum had first appeared at their border, after all — and nevertheless he listens closely, trying to remember their words. Emerald green eyes glitter with a brilliant curiosity, and yet there is a quiet thoughtfulness that lingers beneath those verdant pools. It flits across Aurum's wings as he speaks (so that's how he'd gotten them), but the other's statement leave perhaps more questions than answers. More thoughts whirl through his mind and then suddenly there is a quietness. This must be his cue — an ease smile falls across his maw, effortlessly radiant like the rising sun.
"Icarus," he offers, a warm simplicity to the introduction. "I'm from many places, but mostly nowhere." It's a bit cryptic, he'll admit, and still it's the only way he knows how to describe his origins. The golden tabby was born and raised belonging to the wilds and the wilds alone, despite various temporary homes of which the Knights of Concord are only a stop on a long list. It isn't to say that he intentions of leaving — he likes it here, maybe more than many of the groups he'd previously settled in — but he's never been one to resist the itch in his paws whenever it inevitably returns. For now, at least, he remains. "As for facts..." Icarus pauses in brief thought, "Well, I like to read and stargaze. Oh, and my horse is Aethon. Feel free to stop by my room if you ever want to talk over some tea." The last bit is added to no one in particular, though there's a sincerity to his tone that suggests he'd be happy to have any takers. There's still an old teapot above the fireplace that he'd been meaning to return to the kitchen; it can wait a little while longer, he supposes.
He waits to see if anyone else will join their little group, tail twitching. Silence follows and his head tilts, gaze turning to Safflower. Apparently it doesn't matter how much the other tom wishes to keep from the spotlight, for Icarus never lets a silence linger long. "How'd you get into collecting snowglobes?"
Still, the midday sun beckons him into the open air, with horses to tend to and other knightly duties to fulfill. And then there is Safflower's call, meeting already-pricked ears and bringing him to pause in his tracks. He turns, pads towards the duo, and with a silent dip of his head he settles. Their names are already familiar — they two had greeted the lion when Aurum had first appeared at their border, after all — and nevertheless he listens closely, trying to remember their words. Emerald green eyes glitter with a brilliant curiosity, and yet there is a quiet thoughtfulness that lingers beneath those verdant pools. It flits across Aurum's wings as he speaks (so that's how he'd gotten them), but the other's statement leave perhaps more questions than answers. More thoughts whirl through his mind and then suddenly there is a quietness. This must be his cue — an ease smile falls across his maw, effortlessly radiant like the rising sun.
"Icarus," he offers, a warm simplicity to the introduction. "I'm from many places, but mostly nowhere." It's a bit cryptic, he'll admit, and still it's the only way he knows how to describe his origins. The golden tabby was born and raised belonging to the wilds and the wilds alone, despite various temporary homes of which the Knights of Concord are only a stop on a long list. It isn't to say that he intentions of leaving — he likes it here, maybe more than many of the groups he'd previously settled in — but he's never been one to resist the itch in his paws whenever it inevitably returns. For now, at least, he remains. "As for facts..." Icarus pauses in brief thought, "Well, I like to read and stargaze. Oh, and my horse is Aethon. Feel free to stop by my room if you ever want to talk over some tea." The last bit is added to no one in particular, though there's a sincerity to his tone that suggests he'd be happy to have any takers. There's still an old teapot above the fireplace that he'd been meaning to return to the kitchen; it can wait a little while longer, he supposes.
He waits to see if anyone else will join their little group, tail twitching. Silence follows and his head tilts, gaze turning to Safflower. Apparently it doesn't matter how much the other tom wishes to keep from the spotlight, for Icarus never lets a silence linger long. "How'd you get into collecting snowglobes?"
lightning in your eyes, you can't speak
falling from the sky, down to me
( icarus — knights of concord — judge — tags )