“Not as beautiful as you, cyria mou,” he replied in a warm whisper, his mother tongue flowing off his tongue. Speaking Hellenicá felt mor genuine. My Lady. Perhaps a little too truthful, but. He couldn’t hardly hold back. Honest words should not be hidden. Not from her. Truth was like the light of day, warm and bright. But one had to be careful of burns, nearing too close the fire. And then he glimpsed the work of her hand, her mind and heart, soul poured out on paper...
Oh. No. She didn’t. Breath caught in his chest, the world seemed to slow to a stop, eyes open wide. Was that him, there, on the rocks? A bare seeming, almost as if deliberate. But. There he was, certainly. But, why? Why would she draw him? Regardless of his own feelings, he may well be a stranger for all the time she’d known him yet. He hadn’t even shared his full name with her! Such barefaced deception didn’t deserve such – such. He sighed. No matter how his children hurt and harmed one another or the stars themselves, Aradain loved them. For all they were, all their faults and flaws.
“Ellyn…” he trailed off, unsure what he could possibly say, to thank her for this gift. This gift of being known, being acknowledged in a strange new world. So he took up her hands softly, and kissed them; so warm, as a feeling like magic flowed up his fingers through his arms, straight to his heart. His lips moved on their own accord. “Chília ephcharistó se séna móno, agápi mou.” To this angel in front of him. It was all he could say as he met her gaze, her hair of starlight swaying around her face as she turned to him with her honey-gold eyes and lips of ruby red. And he lost himself in her. A thousand thanks to you alone, my love. He didn’t want to let go.
A bold voice broke his reverie like a blade, singing high praise. But in a strange way. He glanced up to answer the newcomer.
He was an interesting looking fellow. Tall and lanky, with a deep green cloak fastened around his shoulders, black staff in hand. Certainly a mage. But, his character. Like those awfully lovable twins, Castor and Pollux. Bold, upfront, and affably friendly, and more than a little obnoxious, but like a dear friend who never bothered to introduce himself. His person, his words felt forced. False? Strong instincts were one of his greatest personal abilities. And he trusted them in this; a strange sense of something else being the truth behind this façade. Curious. He observed as he spoke.
“And a warm welcome to you, friend.” He stood and bowed courteously. Headmistress Ion would be so proud! He grinned at that. Etiquette lessons had been a new thing not long ago. But he learned quickly, as always. That didn’t stop him from being honest though. Social courtesies got in the way of that at times. “But your praise is too much for me! If the opportunity presents itself though, then I will certainly join the symphonic orchestra at the Academy. I’m a fair hand with the harp, piano, cello, and violin as well. Hopefully they have need of another of one!”
Ah. Mental Projection. Just like Castor and Pollux. But then? He must be an expert mental interference and influence mage, to do that. Castor and Pollux only could ever manage such a show when together, weaving and wielding their powers as one to cover the other and strengthen their magics. That spoke a great deal of this boy. But when the mask was lifted, they were intensely introverted, reserved and prone to bottling themselves up in their minds, and deliberately unnerving anyone who tried to bring them back out to the real world; but the twins had only started like that. Before finding family, love in him and the others. That despite all the cold darkness in the world, their was always light. Always warmth. Just harder to find. Perhaps this boy was like them too in that regard.
Hopefully without the massive pranking streak. The twins always had that funny habit of reading everyone’s minds and nudging things around in ways not always appreciated at the time til days later when everyone would laugh at the mishaps they manipulated people into pulling. Hopefully. He had learned very quickly to monitor himself in their presence after that incident. Really, Cytheria had not reacted well to him falling down on her in the stairwell. Especially when his hands land there. Of all places.
It didn’t help that the reason he tripped in the first place was because the twins had sent an image of her nude to him just as he stepped in front of her. Damnably lovable twins. He missed them.
But if not him, who?
Oh.
No. He wouldn’t dare. Not her. Not Ellyn. The signs were quite clear, by the look of confusion and agitation plainly on her face. He shot the boy an upraised eyebrow and half-smile, but a bit tight. If he had even an ounce of the twins’ skills, he could certainly read at least surface thoughts.
So he made them as obvious as possible. And focused. I hope that wasn’t in malicious intent. Hopefully the boy would stop tormenting her, even if in good fun. But his smile grew. He had hope for him, the newcomer. If anything, the twins loved being caught at their own game. It was half the reason they played. Or so they said. But they were still family. Perhaps he would be too, in time. After all, were not all children of Aradain, the Redemit, one family? He didn't want to come into conflict with anyone.
“You might wish to explain yourself, adelphós,” he spoke then, friendly, lighthearted, “As none can read minds like you here.” Grinning, he met the young man’s gaze. Why don’t you come out, my friend? Hiding one's self only ended in a cycle of pain and grief and life filled with sadness. He would know. Stall tall, be strong, know right from wrong. But above all.
Be yourself.
