The sound of soft high pitched cooing was quite the contrast for the otherwise dark and murky surroundings of Perditi Cemetery. While the celebration of the two deities’ child was going on, Dorian was instead knelt down in the soft dirt at one of the inner rings of the graveyard. The lapin had long since passed through here, but in its wake it had left lingerings of its magick.
Colorful flowers bloomed proudly amongst the usual earthy drabness of the cemetery, and around them was a glow of power. He plucked another bunch of them and moved them into the satchel hanging at his hip. It was already half full of other such things he’d found, and he was eager to get home as soon as possible to preserve them, or maybe press them into oils.
The possibilities were endless, but unfortunately the supply itself was finite. So time was precious. And it wasn’t any easier considering there was a small flock of white and blue spectral seahorses fluttering around him. He quickly, but not harshly, batted towards them to get them away from his face. Some were busy trying to nuzzle their small muzzles against his cheeks, while others had locks of his hair twisted around their tails or nipped in their mouths: lifting up his hair and swaying it around playfully, while unintentionally making it appear as if he were underwater. It was fitting, even if it was incidental.
His shoulders drooped and his head hung back in irritation. It was all he could do not to have an outburst, he’d already had a few, and they still flocked around him. As much as he couldn’t stand people, it wasn’t in him to hurt an animal unless there was a real purpose for it: they could sense that. They were, after all, drawn to him and not the other way around. What made the spectral familiars choose their person was still unknown to him though.
As if sensing his disgruntlement, which they probably actually were, one of them nuzzled up and curled into the crook of his neck. He sighed and gently patted it, feeling a quicker sense of ease than he would have expected. Oddly enough for how long he’d been practicing, he’d never had a familiar…It was comforting, even if he’d only ever admit that to one person.
“If you really want to keep me from getting pissed, go pick some of the sprouted flowers,” he said, nodding his head towards another outcropping. A few of the seahorses perked up and quickly flitted over, picking up flowers one by one with such care you’d think this was their main purpose. Despite himself, he smiled, and for once didn’t try to taint it into a smirk.