Nightfall's in The Grove and the moon looms overhead. Providing its reflected light onto the flora below (and many other a-thing that roamed). However, there came a noticeable shift in the tides below within the soil. The flow of moisture is sifting through the ground as a gentle glow of platinum emerges from behind the tree that provides sanctuary from the prying eyes of a certain.. divine.
Celestino took in his surroundings as he holds the bouquet of white moonflowers that's just shy of blossoming and another consisting of peach roses that carry a tinge of aromatic love magic that- while palpable- was not strong enough to alter one's mind beyond a quality of relaxation. Long hair flowing from the cool breeze, his silver jewellery gleaming under the moonlight and the silk of his archonic robes just barely sweeping the grass as he calls out in a soft melodic voice,
"Verdant.. are you here? I hope you don't mind my presence at this hour. I often make nightly visits as part of my duty, but I am free as of now."
The air hums with the faint pulse of magic, and for a moment, all is still—until something in the shimmer of the moonlight draws their gaze.
Sena’s tree holds the visitor tightly. In its flowered claws the red blooms drink pearly magic and swell to bright crimson. Swallowed, the white magic finds it’s path down through the stem, weaving through branches and into the depths of the densely protective trunk. It’s roots clamor deeper into the Below beyond Verdant’s reach, save for shared communion.
As Verdant moves, the figure mirrors them—circling the trunk, just out of direct sight. In the grain of the bark, Verdant discerns patterns of magic that can only be described as luxurious: fine threads of silvery light ripple along the grooves like liquid metal, subtle warmth hums beneath the roughened surface, and faint pulses of power draw their fingertips involuntarily closer. The richness feels both deliberate and alive—refined.
"Verdant.. are you here? I hope you don't mind my presence at this hour. I often make nightly visits as part of my duty, but I am free as of now."
Recognition dawns over them: Celestino.
No ill-intent warps the wood. Not that they would expect such from Celestino, but to have the opportunity to even make the observation and be forewarned…they breathe a silent thank you to Sena.
They graze the trunk with the back of their palm, soothing the grain to release its hold.
“I am here, Celestino.” Verdant calls through the waning ward as they step around the tree. “My apologies—I seldom receive unexpected visitors at this hour. But I know you favor the moonlit hours, and I am always glad to see a familiar face.”
Their eyes catch on the bundled bouqet. “What brings you here?”
