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 Posted: Thu May 31, 2012 10:45 pm
First BlushEirdirsceol and Cesc Where: Western salt marsh When: Dawn 
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Posted: Fri Jun 01, 2012 12:00 am
It had been weeks since Isi's last visit to the Lab, what with taking a vacation due to clandestine visits to the hospital taking up his free time. Eiry wasn't allowed on those strange and secret visits, but he thought little of it. There were other things he was preoccupied with, like the loneliness he felt waking up with him every morning, a near tangible companion that followed him throughout the day, haunting him like he tried to haunt the other members of the house hold. As the home played itself out, Aphi was busy with work and Riv was not only near unreachable, but Eiry hadn't felt the same about him since that long lost day when they had chased down Eiry's attackers, when Eiry had watched Riv threaten to kill another for the sake of a stolen violin. Instead of following and hoping that his brother might return to the early raevan he had known, Eiry turned away instead, turning to his books and plans, writing up drafts of meaningless poetry, and drawing up plans of pranks that didn't feel as exciting as they once did. The family was calming down, settling down, finding their groove, and Eiry still hadn't really found his. He was thankful for his job in the Durem library though, a place that accepted his Edwardian fashion and his useful talents, but Eiry wouldn't help but notice the empty feeling in his arms when he hugged books, remembering the times that he used to hug his brother, the few times that Isi let him hold him, during bedtime stories. But things were changing now. Isi didn't read as often. He spent more time resting, and Riv had another to hold. Eiry, in the meanwhile, organized books and lingered for too long in the poetry section, searching for something he couldn't quite place.
Hiking his 18th century style coat about his chest, Eiry tipped his head in farewell to Isi once the boy hobbled his way into the Lab. There was an appointment for a pick up today, Eiry was told, another raevan was being born, and while Eiry would have been ecstatic to be there, there was a distracting cloud hanging over him lately as his mind wandered more and more into thought. It created a strange feeling in his developed stomach, one that Eiry hoped was just hunger pains, something that he could actually solve instead of those other feeling that he was having lately, of a sore ache that got worse with thinking. He told Isi that he would be drifting to the nearby beach, searching along it's shores for something to eat since the plants all around the Lab had all been taken care of previously by his insatiable appetite. He hoped that suckling on the essence of the dead and dying would ease his stomach, that swelling feeling beneath his chest. Isi had given him a quirk of the brow, had asked him over and over to come inside with him, but Eiry firmly declined, gesturing to the lush fauna around them, reinstating that he would have to journey to find his fill. Isi, with a huff, not quite understanding his ward, made him promise that he would make sure to come back in time for the appointment. Eiry made the promise, crossing his chest with his finger and smiling awkwardly at his guardian. He watched Isi hobble inside and turned away when he saw him welcomed by Zeke, sure that Isi would be taken care of. He had to try and take care of himself.
Wandering away, following the clean path of the beach, and meandering further when there were no longer any shells to gaze at, tangled up in the seaweed, or rocks to break the waves, Eiry drifted like a lone seagull into the salt marshes about half an hour's walk away from Gambino, far enough away to make it seem like nothing else in the world existed but the drowning marsh and the whisper of the waves. There, Eiry despondently looked around, looking for something that wasn't the dead plants beneath him, and finding nothing, looked down at his ribbon as it dragged through the brush. He gave a sigh, and finding that it sort of helped the feeling in his stomach, he gave another, hoping that if he took bigger gulps of air, it would relief the ache. He quickly discovered that it kind of made it worse. Turning his attention instead onto the dead plants, Eiry tried his original tactic, drifting through the grass and lightly dragging his fingers upon theirs, encouraging them to grow as he stole away their death, feasted upon it, made it his. His rune glowed from deep within his belly, nurturing him, but that resisting hollow feeling remained, welling up. He furrowed his brows over his deep red eyes, staring at the dead grass as if it had betrayed him, and he dragged his hands upon their fronds, drawing more color into their stalks, forcing them to stand perked and attentive again, bobbing in the wind and nodding at him as if to thank him. Eiry couldn't thank them in return. They were doing nothing for him.
The ghost sigel, like the will o wisp he owed his soul to, floated aimlessly through the salt marsh, the beat of his wings drowned by the sound of the nearby waves sinking into the body of the marsh, rustling the grasses, the wind and the sea playing its grumbled roar, as if sighing along with Eiry. He was naught but a glowing figure, amid growing fauna, groaning for feelings he could not understand, lonely and unwilling to accept it. He was lost.
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Posted: Fri Jun 01, 2012 12:31 am
Where was he?
There were walls when he awoke.
When his eyes flickered open, there was silence in his head and in the walled space. There was a distant light reaching for him, enveloping him, pulling him into existence, whispering soundlessly amongst all the rest. For long moments, the only moments he knew, that was all: there were walls and silence and light.
He looked down at himself, flexed his hands and fingers. He had autonomy. He willed himself to move, and found that he could. So he was capable of moving in the silence and the walls, and toward the light, if he so chose. And he did choose.
If you were to ask him afterward, he would not be able to explain how he knew to go to the light -- what he did to slide away or how he knew which way was out when his entire world consisted wholly of silence and walls. He knew only that the light beckoned and he knew which way to go toward the light, and that its whisperings grew louder when there were no walls. How did he escape? He knew nothing of the concept. There was no escape, just the shedding of walls.
Outside, there was quiet but not silent. The light was everywhere outside, and -- and inside as well, he could feel it. As the dim light filled him, he felt he could move more easily, breath more efficiently, and listen more clearly. The whispering was still all around him.
Come here.
Where was he?
Did it matter?
Come.
He moved in the boundless outside, toward that haunting, barely audible sound. It carried him, that sound -- that feeling -- that feeling, it was unbearable, the feelings that sound gave him. He knew nothing, but the light told him to move and so he moved.
There was water, and long pale things that reached up from the water and scraped against him as he moved, rigid where he was fluid. He bent to touch these things, muddying his hands -- slick, and wet, and new. Black mud dripped from his fingertips. He rubbed his fingertips together and watched the slow movement of mud, fascinated.
Not here. Come. Come.
He looked up and shook his head, squinting to focus his eyes. The landscape was all alike, all black and spiked-up golds and browns, mud and water and light reflecting. The sky was endless and breathtaking. Where was that sound coming from? It hummed all around him, as if the light was speaking, but he did not know speech. All he knew was that the sound ached, and thus he now knew pain.
Not here. Come.
He moved, slower now, slowly opening and closing his eyes, trying to focus the feeling and the sound and the pull he could not control.
Here. Here.
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Posted: Fri Jun 01, 2012 11:57 am
Eiry had turned a good part of the salt marsh into flourishing green fields before he came to accept the fact that his stomach was not aching from hunger, but from something different. He came to a stop in the field, his hands drooping against his sides instead of amongst the grass fronds and he stared down at his satisfied tummy, taking it upon himself to recheck his buttons, as if hoping the discomfort was caused from unfit clothes. No, his jacket and vest was fine as well. He was full, he was clothed, he was healthy, but for some reason that hollow feeling remained. He gave a defeated sigh, running out of viable options for the discomfort. There was nothing else that he had heard about that could be the cause, nothing in books, nothing in stories, he glanced about himself and the empty expanse, wondering, thinking, as he was prone to do. There was one option left that he hadn't investigated, but such feelings, he knew, was for someone else, anyone but him, someone who had the potential to be with another, not him. He had no one. Quietly, he had kept his ruby eyes open for someone who might be his one and only, someone he could call his.....But there was no one, of everyone existing, that could be that certain someone. Eiry had already resigned himself to this. He had accepted it.
Giving a sigh, and wondering if he should get a check up with the good doctor in white in case anything was wrong in his development, Eiry pulled his coat around him, tucking his collar tight upon his neck, and turned around. That was about as far as he got.
He was frozen in place.
He wasn't alone here.
There was the breaking of the dawn, spreading its blush from the eastern sky. Eiry squinted his eyes as the light fell upon him, the sun lifting its head from the dark horizon, and he tried to focus, his eyes blinking. There was something there. He was sure of it. From it's bright glow, there seemed to float a figure, who pulled itself into solid shape from the pink light. The soft flutter of wings was a familiar sound to Eiry, the drag of a ribbon as it traced its way through the grass was another one. His breath caught in his chest, making a choking sound of surprise, for he, for once, had been the surprised one.
It was a frei.
Tilting his head, opening his reddened eyes, the sigel turned slowly, releasing his hands from his neck where they had clutched onto his collar. He tried to speak, but no words came. This was in itself a strange and unnatural thing for Eiry who was a wealth of sayings and sentences, a sigel renowned and infamous for his silver tongue and quick wit, but in this moment, that one very instant, where he was approached by this frei, he was trapped in the slow blinking of the frei's glowing dawn eyes. He couldn't think, couldn't speak, all he could do was stare in wonder at the nubs of the frei's horns, the flicker of his ears and the drift of the frei's pink hair as the gentle wind rustled about them. He was trapped in those eyes, trapped in a dawn that spoke of a new day, a new beginning, a new something that Eiry couldn't quite place.
He swallowed, hoping that wetting his throat would perhaps help him in discovering his voice again, but when he opened his mouth all he could muster was a simple, "How, sweet spirit..."
Eiry couldn't move. He was transfixed, confused, and that feeling in his stomach was forgotten.
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Posted: Fri Jun 01, 2012 5:22 pm
There.
The brittle brown spikes the frei felt had turned into yielding green as he moved, forming a trail. He followed it dumbly, listening to the light as it crescendoed over the horizon and found its way to him. The mud was not to what he was drawn, nor the grass, nor the sky. The light's unintelligible whispering lead him to the green pathway -- and, at last, to this.
The ache was centered here. The whispering lead him to the source. It was all here, in this -- this --
The frei drifted closer, his head inclined, his ears flicking gently in curiousity. His eyes moved across this other being with amazement. There was no fear, artifice, or even politeness in his gaze, just wonder. Was this -- another like himself? They had the same limbs -- did they have the same face? He did not know what his own face was. The other was ... more than him, larger; he could see that clearly. But there was also something missing, something that radiated hurt. Something that had called to the light to bring him here.
But otherwise, from what he felt and what he could tell, they were the same.
He was not alone. It was comforting, appealing, validating. Even though there was pain -- and he was certain that there was pain, could feel that something was wrong, was told by the now-hushed light that there was something wrong -- he was washed over with happiness to see this other.
The frei smiled.
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Posted: Fri Jun 01, 2012 10:29 pm
Eiry tilted his head further, matching the tilt that was given to him by the newcomer, a warm hued frei which greatly contrasted the cool greens painted across the ghost frei's body. He was confused, watching him approach, and in any other situation, the sigel would have backed away and disappeared into the ground, but there was something welcoming about this smiling strange frei. Pulling an awkward smile onto his own face, pursing his brows, Eiry stooped in, catching his glowing gaze with his own, and attempting to speak. However there were no words, the raevan that prided himself on being a walking dictionary, a caustic thesaurus, a wordsmith, a silver tongue, but he, at that moment, had no words with which to speak. Every time he opened his mouth, his tongue twisted, or he felt the need to swallow. He was sure he looked like a drowning man, gaping helplessly for air that swam just beyond his reach. After a few minutes of struggling, the raevan decided instead to speak with other words, a language made by the body. Dropping his arms before him and sweeping them out, he cleared the way for an eloquent bow, which he wobbled in as he pulled himself up from the grass. He gave a small smile. Quietly, he reached forward then, offering his hand to the other, his palm upturned and his face gentle, wondering, just as wondering as the other frei was.
b]"Good dawning to you..." he finally said, but that was about all he had to say for the moment. His mind was whirling. Who was this Frei? where did he come from? Eiry wasn't sure if the frei was a he at all. While the chest gave no clue, Eiry had before been confused when faced with other raevans from the Lab, and so, reserved his judgement, wanting to be sure. Honestly, thought that the frei in question was a girl, the pretty face and lush face had betrayed his initial inclination of belief, but his judgement remained unsure. What he was sure of though, was that the raevan had something, Eiry wasn't sure what exactly, that made his chest seize up at a mere glance. His throat was tangled, his words twisted, and it was all because of the pink haired frei before him.
That wasn't the only thing that he was sure of. He was also confident that the horned frei was the very frei that Isi had gone to the lab for, to help introduce to his new guardian later on that morning. How he got out here, Eiry had no idea, because he was sure that such young freis remained in the facility until they were picked up. He would have to bring the young frei back.
But what really made him wonder, though, was what led the raevan out in the first place?
"...What brings you out here, young soul, young sweet?" he whispered, opening his palm for the frei to take, he knew that it was cold, a cold morning, and so he began thumbing his own coat open, readying to divest himself for the sake of the younger, "A chill runs rampant here, but I can solve that...Tell me, young thing, with or without words, what brings you here?"
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Posted: Sat Jun 02, 2012 8:52 pm
For a long moment, the frei simply watched as Eiry opened and closed his mouth, swallowed and stared. His own expression softened, the brightness of his welcoming smile becoming small and warm. The aching had subsided into the background, white noise of its own kind, and now the frei could study his companion.
He was pleasing to look at, even as he gaped. His skin -- his skin was perfect and soft compared to the mess of textures everywhere around them, and his eyes were dark and expressive. The frei wondered, did he also look this way, or was this something singular to this other person? He lifted his hands and touched his own face, the fingertips of one hand still muddy, leaving a streak against his cheekbone. He could not tell, but he could see pink at the edge of his vision -- completely different from the other's pale green, so well matched to the outdoors, to this marsh. They were not the same.
Eiry spoke again, but the frei could not attend to it. It was unintelligible, although the rhythm was attractive, and there was still something else. He was focusing on the deep red of his eyes. The pain, it lived there. It waited there. It had not gone away.
Perhaps the other did not know? He was here to help. Whatever that pain was, the ache that had communicated itself to him -- he was here to remove it. To lead this other to whatever he needed, whatever would heal him.
Or, perhaps he did know? Eiry's hand went out and the frei reached his own hand out, the one still clean from mud, to take it. His own hand was gentle and warm despite the chill of the morning, and his movements were slow and deliberate. His fingers curled around Eiry's hand, steady. Yes, perhaps he could communicate something of his intention to help.
The other could speak. Could he as well?
"..." The frei opened his mouth and drew in a breath, looking up from their hands to Eiry's face again. He smiled, a little uncertain, nodded, and tried again. "... h... here."
His voice was deep, low, rich. He parroted the word but not the intonation, the 'h' harsh and the 'r' soft, accented. He nodded again, his face breaking into a wider smile, pleased at his ability to speak. He could communicate! He lifted his other hand and pointed at Eiry, at his chest, where everything that called him must have originated.
"...here," he said again, quietly.
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Posted: Sun Jun 03, 2012 10:23 pm
Like Narcissus trapped in his own reflection, Eiry helplessly stared at the new frei, his hand outstretched limply for him to take. He had no inclination to move, but wait, watch, study this strange new frei and try to figure out just what it was doing to him to keep him entranced in such a way. It was like being lost in a really good book, which was something that Eiry did often since he had little else to do in his home besides cause mischief before he drifted off for work. Or sometimes, it was like being lost in song when he practiced his violin, so engrossed in the art, the reading, that Eiry forgot what it was like to have his own body. He felt like nothing, he was air, he was light, he was the mist that swirled about in eddies in the marsh. He watched as the young frei suddenly moved, gently, slowly, lifting up his hand to trace alongside his face and drag a smear of mud across his cheek. At that, Eiry startled, struggling to open his mouth and stop the deed but he had already painted himself with earth. Instead of panicking, the sigel chuckled, his laugh bright and airy, and he moved forward in tandem with the young frei, who finally took his hand. His skin was so warm. Eiry's skin was touched with the chill of death, and he often envied the feel of warm flesh, but when he felt this frei's skin, his fingers wrapping around his, the ghost sigel found himself in awe. He had to glance down, interrupted from his original intent of cleaning the frei's cheek. He had to see how their hands looked together, his dainty fingers wrapped with his. Eiry tightened his grip gently, smoothing his thumb once across his skin to understand just how soft this frei was. It was as soft as a sheet of paper, smooth and taut.
Eiry swallowed helplessly, glancing up to the frei as the young one opened his mouth, struggling to speak just as much as Eiry, and again became transfixed. It was either politeness or anticipation that kept him from speaking, or perhaps it was both, Eiry wasn't quite sure, but of what he was sure of was the young frei's grip, firm and steady upon him. There was intention in that grip, Eiry could tell, there was a point to it, something that was trying to be communicated, for why else would this frei be looking at him so deeply in his eyes, holding his fingers so tightly? There was a reason this frei was here in the marsh. He was not simply lost, he was here for a reason, and eventually, Eiry heard him.
"...H...Here." he had said with a voice so velvety, so deep and rich, that Eiry felt a shiver run down his spine. His fingers tightened around his, surprised by the luscious tone of the voice, the unmistakable masculinity of it, flavored by the spicy hint of an accent. He felt his face drop into a gape, his chest struggling to breathe since he had, for a moment, forgotten how to, and watched with pursed brows as the other raevan pulled his cheeks into a wide smile. He had spoken and he would speak again, this time raising up his finger to point at Eiry, at his chest, where his heart fluttered like a moth in a jar.
Looking down to the finger and then back up to the frei, Eiry stammered and tried to make himself useful, lifting his hand to gently wipe off the mud from the other's cheek, all the meanwhile chuckling in awkward confusion at the blaming finger pointed at his chest. The frei's cheek was soft.
"Here?" He looked down at himself, smiled awkwardly and furrowed a brow, looking up slowly. Words were coming easier now, growing back to him like flowering fields of flowers. He felt confident to speak again, slowly, measuring each word, "Me? I know not what...Why would you...What would...What's here that would drive astray a young soul, inspire them to wander wither it is cold and wither it is lonely, where broken bramble breaks? I am...I am no worthy object to chase. What lies here, speak to me, tell me the answer to this riddle...What lies here beneath my beating breast and heart that would drive you to take wing and pursue? You confuse me yet, young thing, you perplex me!"
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Posted: Mon Jun 04, 2012 10:53 pm
Eiry's touch against the frei's cheek was cool and bracing, and it made him feel at once very aware, aware of himself and his skin and the feel of another hand gently against it. He did not have the words for it now, although he would think of it later -- months later -- and describe that first feeling of really being suddenly and gently touched by another person as electric. And it made him understand, young as he was, that although he believed fully he was meant to help this other person, he was at that moment being taken care of, himself.
Eiry spoke and this time the frei tried hard to attend to his words, to pull out some meaning from the vowels and consonants so musically mixed together. In a very present way, he enjoyed the sound and desired more of it. It was more different and complex than the soft chirping of birds in the background, softer than the rush of the waves, so much sweeter than that aching hum that had driven him here. But he knew he was meant to draw some sense from the words, and so he was determined to understand.
The frei drew in a slow breath, trying to form a reply. Perhaps his tongue was lazy, lazier than his new companion's, because that speed of speech seemed unattainably quick, even measured as it was. The frei's brows drew together in some confusion as he tried to think of some way to communicate without all the words that were still so far beyond him, a strange new feeling of doubt springing to life in the back of his mind. Was he even certain of the meaning of the other's speech? Could the other still be confused as to his intentions?
And then, then what? If he could hardly communicate, would he be able to help this person, help take away the pain that had beckoned him all the way here from --- from -- wherever he had been before.
His forehead cleared, his expression softening. No, no -- he was sure in that aspect. He could help. He would help. His shoulders straightened. Somehow, he would. Because it was not fair that this stranger who had extended his hand to him would have to keep that ache that he knew was still present, under everything.
"... here," he said a third time, low and clear, pointing again to Eiry's heart. But this time, he locked his gaze with the sigel and then made an expression of pain, his eyes squinting and his brow knitting, his head turning slightly away. When he looked back again, his face clear and earnest, he hoped the other understood what he knew.
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Posted: Wed Jun 06, 2012 7:08 pm
Eiry could tell that his long string of words was making little sense if anything to the newborn frei. However, there was still communication to be had, he could see it in the frei's eyes that he desperately wanted to say something. There was a purpose to all this, a meaning, and Eiry was dying to know. It was like opening a book writ in a foreign language. If anything, the frei could hear the emotion in Eiry's voice, and that we enough for the sigel to work with.
After cleaning the frei's cheek and wiping the excess on his own clothes, the ghost raevan mustered another smile as the frei attempted to speak again. It was a sight, to see something so new, struggle with such a new concept. It touched Eiry. The young thing was struggling so hard, it really perplexed him as to what he was trying to say. He honestly had no idea. Now, he thought comically, he understands just how it feels to be on the opposite side of the language barrier when it came to speaking, especially when he spoke in so confusing a prose with people who spoke in casual slang, those who were normal versus his abnormality. Though, the only thing that was abnormal about this frei was his abnormal intent, his determination and focus. He had purpose, Eiry knew this, but just what was it? What could he possibly want with Eiry?
He kept poking at his chest.
A riddle, Eiry determined. A hard one, but not so impossible a riddle that he couldn't solve it. Given the clues, the hints, the turns of the head and the subtle gestures, the raevan tilted his head, thinking hard. He was a novice actor himself, a storyteller, what could that face of pain...that face....that..............that pain.
He knew what the other frei meant.
"A forlorn heart," he said in a whisper, finally understanding why the frei kept pointing to his chest, muttering that word in that rumbling voice. He gulped, wondering just what kind of powers were embedded into this young frei that could direct him precisely to the spot of Eiry's location, of his lonely heart. Was this a frei who read emotion? Was that it? Eiry wasn't sure. He muttered again, looking amused, "You know of it, my wounded heart, my loneliness. You know."
But the question was: What was the frei planning to do about it but point it out, reminding him of his bruised feelings, his dreariness? What could he do?
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Posted: Tue Jun 12, 2012 7:35 pm
There. There. He understood. The frei broke into a faint smile as he realized his pantomime had been decoded, a wave of relief washing over him. He'd succeeded, at least, in making his purpose known to the other.
The feeling was short lived, though, as the frei realized that the time had come now for some kind of action. Having expressed his desire to help, it was now time to get started on removing that feeling of pain, on quieting that aching hum. The sigel now had a look of somewhat helpless amusement about him, and the pain, having receded to into the background after his initial arrival, was making itself known again. The frei's shoulders slowly dropped. He was certain he was meant to help, yes -- that much was unshakable. And he would help, he would. But... what was help?
And if he couldn't help, what had he done? He had put the pain into focus, pointed out a wound without a bandage to cover and heal. He had worked hard to communicate what may have been, after all that effort, a mistake.
The frei lifted Eiry's cold hand and enveloped it in both of his own, both his hands warming the ghost sigel's skin. His calm face became faintly concerned, crestfallen. If he had known the word for promise, he would have said it now.
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Posted: Tue Jun 12, 2012 8:39 pm
The look of confusion on Eiry's face did not change as he observed the young frei travel through a spectrum of emotions, a thing that Eiry soon realized must have been a new experience for him. These emotions, all of them, they were raw, they were fresh, and here he was experiencing them like someone might watch a flower bloom. He made himself laugh, a sad sound, but there was no harm intended in it. He simply didn't know what else was to happen at this point, he wasn't quite sure what the other intended to do or if he did intend to do anything about his broken heart. He was, after all a lonely suitor and to Eiry it was his destiny, to be forever wandering the warm lit halls of the library, opening poetry books and bemoaning his long lost love, his Lenore, a stranger, a figment, a dream that he would never meet. He had seen love happen in others, he had seen love fail and he had seen love fade away, and Eiry, despite it all, still longed for it. But he did not believe that he might actually find it outside of books and letters.
This frei, he was sure, could merely feel his loneliness, and it seemed that it was all the frei could do because he took his hands with an apologetic hold, firmly enclosing his cold hand in his own warm ones. It seemed to Eiry that, instead of making a promise, the frei was saying sorry, sorry for having those feelings and that pain and Eiry, looking at the frei's face, felt sorry too.
He squeezed gently at the frei's fingers, putting his other cold hand atop the handhold and patting him reassuringly. Pinching his own brows and mustering a smile, the ghost sigel tipped his head to the side and shrugged.
"...You can feel my loneliness and for that I apologize, but I assure you...It's no villain. My loneliness is my constant companion and for that I am grateful. There are worse things that loneliness, like being alone. Though, fear not little one, you are not alone. Whilst the world seems as boundless as the sky and whilst the sky seems as deep as the sea, there will be no lonely inch for you." he said, smiling at the frei and beating his wings gently so that he drifted forward, "You will have a guardian soon, and she will never let you wander alone. I will lead you to her, against my will o wisp nature, I will not let you lose yourself here, I will guide you."
Beating his wings, he kept his red eyes on the frei, still holding him with one hand, "...Stray not away from me."
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Posted: Sat Jun 16, 2012 11:08 am
There was nothing for the frei to do but allow himself to be led, a soft sort of sadness settling in his heart. Looking at Eiry, watching him move and speak and understand, made the frei feel his own inescapable youth. But it was the way Eiry communicated his own feelings, the way he withstood the ache the frei was so attuned to, that made him feel almost impatient to learn and grow.
He understood that he had failed. He had woken, and he had been beckoned, but he arrived with nothing to offer and little to say. He had woken in tune with the light and instinctively followed its call, but instinct had not provided him with all the necessary answers. His presence alone was not healing. But he knew now, after hearing the rhythm of Eiry's speech and the sureness of their fingers threaded together, that learning was possible. He would be better.
And when he was, he would figure out how to help.
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