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Hevn took a deep breath and released it, feeling his body respond. It would take him more time, still, to get used to his new limitations. How he longed for his strength and his muscles, the power he had earned from hour after hour of work and practice. Being idle was beginning to irritate him. Now that spring in the air, he would feel a little warmer, but he really didn't want to. Being warm reminded him of Corwin. The little Twilif used to keep him warm during the hours that Hevn slept, and Hevn watched over him as best he could.

Hevn nudged a rock in the path and forced the memories away. His new body came with strange burdens. He found that memories moved like mercury between minds of those he loved and his own mind. When someone grew close, and then closer, he saw the things they remembered, and his memories would leak into them, unbidden. He had things he couldn't let anyone remember. So he could make friends, but it was unpleasant to get close to anyone, for reasons of both physical and mental discomfort. Perhaps he just needed to ease up a little. The notion that relaxing and allowing the process to happen was alien to Hevn. He had tried to control it and he clearly could not prevent the memories from moving. He could occasionally choose a memory to show to someone, but he had no control over which other ones would slip out.

As Hevn walked down the path, he turned his attention to the sky. Whenever he felt particularly at a loss for what to do, he would look up. The sky was so vast, and somehow it always seemed to be reaching out, holding everything together. The sky was his strength.

Today, however, an orange creature had infiltrated his calm saviour. Over the course of a few minutes, Hevn made it to the ground below where he figured the creature seemed to be circling around, and he found a constellation he did not recognize there. It became rapidly apparent that the creature he had seen was actually a kite, and this constellation was flying it. "A kite? Are those not for children?" Hevn asked, approaching the stranger. He was curious, a little confused, and mildly irritated. His tone, however, was free of judgment; sincere in its desire to know why the constellation was flying a kite. Hevn pushed the normal side of his bangs behind his ear as the wind shook through his feathered hair, then crossed his arms, his face eerily devoid of pain as they folded over what appeared to be open wound upon open wound across his chest, arms and hands.

Lael's mind was closed to Hevn. It made him sigh inwardly with relief, grateful for the silence of his own thoughts. Hevn detested the intrusion on both ends, although what made it worse was that he usually cared deeply for the other by the time it really hit in full force. It made it harder to leave.

Hevn's tail swished almost lazily in the breeze. It was very disconcerting, having a tail. He was not yet used to it. He considered it a weakness. Too much to grab, too much to snare him by. At least he would be largely impervious to any pain it would cause. His fighting talent. Finally, after looking up at the kite for a while, watching it soar, he decided to give his name. "Hevn," he said. Just that. And then another pause. He did envy its height. Something in him longed to feel that close to the sky. "I have no qualms about looking to the sky; I often search its vast embrace for answers." Which was a Hevn way of saying he looked up a lot. Too much, maybe. He was always looking up, watching the sky. At times, when he was incapable of willing himself to do anything else, he would simply sit in silence and watch the sky change.


"Do they have a use, then?" Hevn finally added, clearly missing the point. Hevn noticed Lael's lingering gaze, however brief, but he didn't know what the Constellation was looking at. He often forgot he had his wounds, since they caused him no pain. They just stayed there, giving the appearance of a fresh injury.

Hevn waited to see if Lael would introduce himself without being asked. He believed names were gifts meant to be received, but not expected. That was why he would always pause before offering his name, even if it was a direct question. He was weighing, within himself, whether or not to answer.

Hevn nodded. He liked Lael's smile, as simple as gesture as it was. He was a little surprised when the Constellation forgot what they had been speaking about only moments before. He seemed to be paying attention, but Hevn couldn't really tell. No matter. It would cost him nothing if the Constellation did not learn much about him. Hevn was a little curious as to what exactly the Constellation did all day.

"Yes, kites. Truly? I suppose it is a better diversion than mine. I often merely watch the sky change, days when I have nothing to do and can't seem to motivate myself to move." Now that it had been laid out so clearly, Hevn understood why Lael would fly a kite, at least in part. He understood the logic of it, but not quite the pleasure.

Except for the desire to fly. Hevn slipped his fingers through his feathers and looked up at the kite. How sad it would be, to long to fly, and be tethered to the ground. Hevn did not envy it, truly, despite his own urge to soar. At least he had no hope of flight, whereas that kite could fly, and was held down. He saw that perhaps it was the tension of the tether maintaining the kite's flight, and yet he could not help but feel triumphant that he had no such connections to anything. "I understand," Hevn replied, short again. His wordier sentence had slipped out when he wasn't really paying attention. Then, something occurred to Hevn. If this Constellation liked kites partly because it enabled him to pretend to fly, maybe there was something about him Hevn could understand, truly.

"Why would you want to pretend you can fly?" Hevn tried his best not to sound demeaning or accusatory, but he wasn't sure if it worked. It was curiosity, not cruelty, which made him ask the question.