Witch's Marsh prorsus

Ico dipped his head elegantly towards the hare as if to consider another bite, but paused mid-dip at Germanicus's words, from here gazing up at the sterling guard. Pulse beating an intense rhythm beneath his jaw, Ico considered his words... but there was no veil to lift, no web to untangle, no code to decipher. Germanicus was the most forthright creature he'd ever met — an oasis in a desert of uncertainty.

Of course the lad glanced away shyly, and he tilted his head a little as if disinclined to believe such a compliment could ever be spoken by someone like the soldier. And he didn't even speak it as if it were a compliment. Ico did not mean to command anybody's eye... but here they were.

I... he began a little shakily, but then swallowed. He finally maintained more than a second of eye-contact — and the regal man's eyes were the colour of a late Winter sunrise. I'm wondering what stories of you I will fabricate for myself. I do that sometimes. Make up stories.

the guard's ears swept forward despite the somber bearing of his figure. "you are a storyteller." a statement of interest rather than a question. he had not known many; the career into which germanicus had been thrust required little to no imagination. and yet the young guardian longed for it. even if he could not describe the battles and colors in apt detail, he found intrigue in those who could make such spellwork.

"i would like to hear them. one day," the whitebark man went on, turning his face away once more to scuff idly at the remains of their meal. at length germanicus stirred, set his gaze onto ico. "will you allow me to escort you back to your home?"

Being in the presence of Germanicus was like standing beneath a cool waterfall after staggering through a hot desert. The introduction, the hunt, the sharing of selves — there was a great simplicity about it all, even though neither young man could be called simple.

Ico, feeling faintly unworthy of the title "storyteller" despite his habits, watched the grey guard for a moment longer as he dipped towards the hare. Then Ico, too, took another small nibble of the prey as a comfortable quiet fell upon them.

When the quiet was broken, Ico felt his heart flutter moth-like in response. You're... very welcome to walk with me, he affirmed gratefully. As far as you'd like. It was not a short walk out of the marshlands, past the lake and through the woods, but Ico felt that the time back would flash by in an instant — for he intended to relish every moment of this new feeling.

Had he clocked any meaning behind the words "one day", he might've dare suspect that Germanicus was feeling something similar.

"as far as i like," germanicus hummed good-naturedly, moving with reflexive step to flank ico closely. the cherubic nymph might set their pace; his role was to ensure no harm came to the pathfinder. the hush of his palegold eyes surveyed their step, measured already the spread of briars to the left, the firmer places he might walk alongside the boy until they had come to more familiar green-grass carpet beneath spreading trees.

and already he looked ahead in his heart to whatever length of journey ico would lead him upon, sensing it would at once be too long and yet not long enough. whitebark beckoned; the guard felt the new pull of his chosen lands within his nomadic heart. an odd sensation. surely artyom would forgive him this once. "you never gave a surname."

The journey back felt different with Germanicus at his side. The silver man was a good deal taller, and sure of foot, mellow in his regard for their surroundings, and... close. He felt close. Ico couldn't stop thinking about this, even as they walked past vibrant Summer trees, crumbling hillocks, and a still pool with a yellow frog in its midst.

At the question, Ico looked up at him brightly — What's a surname?

wrap in another round and have a new one?

he did not expect the question, but his lips tipped again in that quick-moving show of amusement. he too looked at the frog, but his attention belonged to ico. "a last name. for instance, my full title is germanicus julius caesar." 

a blink of his mellowed gaze; it was his turn to discover something: an underhang of vibrant, ripening raspberries. "my father would say having a family name binds you to that family forever. it is a way to know one another. it is a way to expand."

Sounds perfec! ^__^

Germanicus Julius Caesar... a quintessentially regal name, to Ico more suited for a commander than a soldier. After all, the quick hunter's first words to Ico had in fact possessed an element of command, albeit lightly so; and Germanicus was not being ordered by anyone in his current life, at least not that Ico could detect. Yes... he suited the name perfectly.

Being eternally bound to a family... knowing each other... expanding that family... these concepts would normally make Ico smile with delight, but his heart sunk instead of soared, for he knew he'd never have these things. For he was Ico. Simply Ico. He belonged to a pack, yes, but no family; and the concept of taking a mate and creating a family of his own was... crikey, it was not even a concept he knew how to consider.

Realising he'd been gazing up at Germanicus through all of this, he blinked away quickly. His nose twitched at the sweet-and-sharp scent of vibrant fruits.

Those things sound lovely, he replied at last to the talk of kinship. I can understand the power of a surname.

but could ico know the curse of it? and to himself germanicus silently thought the name, stricken from the annals of the house caesar, from all edict, from all rule, from all law, from all mention. gone out of memory in only a handful of years. "there is power in a single name as well."

but this was nothing for the seraph to hear, and so he buckled it tightly within his proverbial saddlebag. to ico he gave all his focus, speaking of things here and there as they passed in a long spate of hours toward the red-soil path leading toward the primal forest wherein the pale little nymph made his bed.

Ico lingered on these words as they headed onward and their conversation turned effortlessly to lighter, everyday things. There was power in a single name... was there? Ico was instantly inclined to believe everything Germanicus uttered, such was the unexpected hold the young commander had on him, but it made him ponder, and would make him ponder later still.

The idea that he, Ico, could have any power in him at all was new, alien, would-be unbelievable. And yet, quietly, the idea was also a compelling one.