[PRP] A Warm Place

[Atmadja]

Who: Eiry & Cesc
Where:The Durem Public Library
When: December 29
Weather: Below freezing, windy with steady snowfall

"Do you remember the first day you came to us?" Shepard asked outside the cabin late in the evening, pleasantly buzzed, his smile so warm Rhedefre felt he could put his cold hands up to it. Inside, the Christmas party continued, voices and music drifting out into the night. "I felt like I was gonna faint all day to see you, mate."

He shook his head. "I do not remember very much." Cesc waved his hands in front of his eyes. "It is like a fog, if I try to think it."

"I will not forget it, I must say," hummed Vivi beside him, putting her cheek against his shoulder. "Oh! You gave me such a fright! All of us!"

"I am sorry for that," Cesc replied quietly, putting his arm around her. He smiled with half his mouth, a wry expression. "I must have been very good at getting lost."

"When we saw Eiry coming with you, oh!" Vivi shook her head. "I cannot explain the joy."

The smile melted from Cesc's face.

"Eiry?"

* * * * *

The wind was cold in Durem, a different kind of cold than the kind that swept off the shore in Gambino. It was a greyer cold, Cesc thought, but a cold that the falling snow seemed to like, dancing on the gusts as it fell. Already the rooftops and sidewalks were dusted with white, and the snow showed no signs of letting up, kissing his cheeks a darker pink than his hair. The frei was well-bundled, his coat all zipped and buttoned, his scarf knotted under his chin. He wore grey woolen gloves on his hands, and in those hands he held a small package, wrapped in plain brown paper.

The store windows were still decorated with holiday goods, although signs proclaiming Fabulous New Year's Sales and 50% Off Clearance! marred the otherwise untouched displays. However, now there was no Santa Claus ringing a bell on the sidewalk, and no endless stream of cheerful music being piped out of every store. It was a silent sort of cold, and as Cesc floated along to his destination, he found he missed the music.

He sang, quiet, his voice puffing out in white little breaths:

♫ "Behold the way our fine feathered friend
His virtue doth parade
Thou knowest not, my dim-witted friend,
the picture thou hast made

Thy vacant brow and thy tousled hair
Conceal thy good intent
Thou noble, upright, truthful, sincere...
and slightly dopey gent." ♫

It was the song Vivi had played in the car when she dropped him off some blocks ago, heading off to do her own shopping and leaving him to his own plans. The slow mellowness of the music had calmed him, although he wasn't exactly certain why his nerves were acting up -- he barely knew this Eiry, and even though his gratefulness, his apology, were some months late, there was no call to be so... so...

... it just made him feel so very young.

The Durem Public Library stretched out before him, wide white steps leading to the imposing doors. A people pushed through a revolving door in, and a couple walked out, their coat collars flipped up against the cold. Cesc breathed in a slow breath, and breathed out any remaining nervous energy. This is where Vivi said he could find him.

He adjusted his coat, stroked his thumb over the snow-dotted package he carried, and went in.  

[Storei]

It had been almost a year that Eiry had been working at the Library and he had learned the ins and outs of the place as well as earned the right to close on his own, to open the library on his own. He felt almost like it had become his second home away from home now, and he was earning a fair amount of money, which he liked to spend on period outfits, or save it up for tickets to shows that he would visit on his own since no one else in his family liked to go to them with him. There was also a savings account that he had opened up, that he had stuffed well enough with money for a rainy day. He hadn't many ambitions besides what he did already, but it was enough to make him feel proud, and enough to let him daydream as he worked. He had hardly noticed the day had nearly passed, so trapped he was in his daydreaming, of a day that he might be able to afford something wonderful, something breathtaking and exquisite. Perhaps an age old edition of a collection of Shakespeare's works, whose pages smelled like...

There was the opening of the grand old doors, like the opening of a new book, a distinct sound unlike all the other door openings he had heard. Most people came into the library with a certain and very known purpose, a purpose that Eiry knew and could guess. But when he heard that door, he wasn't sure of that customer's purpose at all.

He furrowed a brow, looking over the rims of his reading glasses as he looked up from an armful of books. He had one in his hand, attempting to locate its home, and he was readying for a long two hours of closing up the library, now that it was half an hour til he had to lock the doors. Usually, everyone left around this part of the day, especially during this time of the year. Whoever had come into his library?

Juggling the books in his arms, trying very hard not to drop the whole stack, he leaned his head around the bookcase with an inquiring look on his face.

"We close in about half an hour," he said methodically, "Have you any inquiries, please direct them at me so that I may help you locate your intended book, I would be most glad to help you find a companion for the lonely evenings!"

Finding the home of the book in his hand, he put it snugly into his place and picked up the next one, scrunching his brows and nose as he read the tiny text along the book's spine. Romance section. Eiry began to move that way, floating through the bookshelves.  

[Atmadja]

The tips of Cesc's fingers, his nose, and his ears tingled as the library's heating tried to take the sting of the outside cold away from him too swiftly. He hovered for a moment at the entrance, brushing the snow from the shoulders of his peacoat and shaking his head to get some more that had settled on his antlers and hair. The library was imposing, big and silent, and Cesc felt certain that it would echo even the slightest sound. He looked to his right and left, unsure of how to proceed -- did he go to a reference desk and ask for the Raevan? Or simply float among the stacks until he found the sigel? He pulled off his gloves and scarf, considering.

It was odd, when he thought about it. He had found Eiry once without looking. But Rhede had been called that time, tugged the same way Xiu had tugged him, or Melisande, or Luka -- or these days, lost wallets and earrings and rings. There was no whispering now, no loss, nothing to beckon him. The only thing he heard was the turning of pages and the errant cough.

A woman sat behind a large desk marked INFORMATION not so far away, and Cesc began to float toward her. He did not travel far when a voice stopped him, held him back.

"We close in about half an hour," the voice began, and it was all Cesc needed. He knew that voice. It was the first voice he had ever heard.

How, sweet spirit. It had welcomed him to the world.

A faint, warm smile blossomed across Cesc's features as he floated toward the sound, hardly registering the rest of the offered help. He ducked into the bookshelves, peering down the rows of books as he went, offering his smile to any inquiring glances that were sent his way. It was not until he read the heading Romance, Alpha by Author that he found what he was looking for -- or at least, more or less what he was looking for, since what he saw was a floating, winged half-body mostly obscured by a large stack of books.

It was a Raevan, certainly. And when the figure shifted, sliding a book firmly into its place, Cesc could see his face -- a pale face, with dark eyes hidden behind glasses and a short mane of tousled green hair. Such a familiar face! Cesc remembered seeing it, fuzzy as his memory of that day was, full of concern for himself, a lost newborn frei...

... he'd certainly made a bit of a fool of himself then, hadn't he? Tapping on the sigel's chest, he remembered doing that, trying to tell him about the loss there that he could feel. As though Eiry did not know of it, himself.

His smile tipped up on one side, slightly self-depreciating, and he shook his head at the memory. There was nothing for it now, certainly. Nothing but maybe an apology and a thank-you, and both of those he was here to give. Cesc tightened his grip on the package he held and floated forward.

"Pardon me," he said, his low voice soft and thrumming, his accent making his words sound studied, practiced, correct. "I do not mean to be a bother while you work."  

[Storei]

Finding another home for the book within his hands, the raevan took a moment to gander through the pile of books in his arms, wondering if there were any others in here that would belong nearby. His reading glasses slipped down his nose a bit, and while he shifted the pile of books to lay against his chest and arm with one hand, the other sacrificed a brief moment to push up his glasses back into their snug place on his nose. He screwed his mouth into a thoughtful frown, double checking the books numbers before he found on near the middle of the stack. He pulled it out with a slight straining of his mind, his telekinesis aiding him so that the books didn't explode out of his arms during the brief moment of struggle, and with a thought and a furrow of his brow, he sent the book snuggling into its rightful place on the bookshelf without nary lifting a finger. He had given into a pleased smile, seeing that he had succeeded, and had moved his gaze back to the books when he noticed a figure moving closer beyond the tower of books in his arms.

His eyes, as red as apples, widened upon seeing that figure, such a familiar figure, a shade of pink, and, unlike the young frei's memory, Eiry's was as sharp as a newly snapped branch. He swallowed, soothing his suddenly dry throat, and let a warm Cheshire smile pull between his pointed ears. That voice! He couldn't forget that voice. He couldn't forget the warm frei that gave that voice, that held onto his hand as he led him out of the marsh. He remembered clearly the gentle prod at his chest that the frei had given, looking at him with eyes so concerned. Eiry still wondered sometimes, what it was that he was so concerned about, but he was glad that he could have helped find and return the frei to his guardian. He felt like it was something meant to happen.

As he moved to greet him, Eiry's own rasp of a voice was tugged between a gasp and a hello, making an awkward sound instead as he struggled to balance the tower of books in his hands, but the sudden turning that his wings had gave him, excited to see the young frei that he had found on that crisp autumn morning, had overbalanced his figure. He suddenly tipped forward, trying to gather the books back into his arms, but with a wobble, and a yelp, his glasses pushing up up onto his forehead, he lost the tower. The books toppled all around him and to the floor, with only two or three getting caught by Eiry's telekinesis which last out a second too late to catch them all.

"O, me!" he squeaked, looking down at the mess he had created. The dismay didn't last long because he gave a brief chuckle at that, a giggle which soon burst into laughter, and he floated down to the ground, picking up the books and piling them again into a tower of alphabetical order. Eiry looked up as he did, unable to keep his eyes from the visiting frei.

"How, sweet spirit, you visit me again, though this hour I hope it not that you are lost! It has been many a week, nearly a few moons since I've seen you last. Your words, horned one, they are strong! How developed and fine they are, I am most delighted to hear your voice again. What has brought you to this distant labyrinth of literature?" Eiry asked. He looked at him with happy eyes from beneath the tousle of his minty hair, glancing down only to make sure that he was piling his books in the correct order.  

[Atmadja]

Cesc's arms went out as Eiry's expression registered surprise, and he dropped his own package in a hurry to catch what Eiry fumbled and dropped. The stag managed to catch a book or two -- one he bobbled against his chest as it fell, and another he managed to just snatch as it went by him. He bent as Eiry did, trying to help clean up what he had inadvertently caused, a quiet apology bubbling out of him even as the sigel began to speak.

In all the commotion, Rhedefre was unprepared for the style of the sigel's speech. He straightened slightly, his expression clearing into one of blank incomprehension and faint awe, most of the words sailing between his ears without sticking in his skull. For all his schooling, Cesc still found Spanish easier than French, and French easier than English, and this was English in some form he did not usually hear it. It was not the proper clip of Granny Maplethorpe's, nor the sing-song of Vivi's chatter, nor Shepard's drawl. This was new.

Or not so new, if he considered. He'd heard it before, in the marsh. He'd marveled at it then, too.

Ironic. He'd garnered from the speech that Eiry was complimenting his own, but the rest was mostly gibberish. Cesc continued to look at Eiry for a beat too long for the correct rhythm of conversation, his lips parted and his brows just faintly coming together, looking at the sigel as if he'd never seen him before. Then he suddenly came out of it, realizing it was his turn to speak.

"It -- forgive me, your speak-ing, it is very... " Words seemed to fail him, and he offered a small, foreign smile, one that seemed to ask for patience. "It is very different. Very nice! But different. Special."

Cesc reached out, offering the books he'd picked up to Eiry to place in his pile. "I hope I do not disturb you. I was told I might be able to find you here. I was hoping to see you again." He dropped his eyes, lowering to gather the brown-paper package he'd let fall before. "If this time is bad..."  

[Storei]

Catching the slowly developing look of confusion that Eiry, in his lifetime, had seen all too often, he quickly knew the reason. His speech. A sense of diction and syntax that was heavily influenced by all the books he had read in his youth had warped his speech into a dialect all together foreign to the speech that was commonplace today. Slang was Shakespeare to Eiry, hard and unable to understand, while Shakespeare was Eiry's slang. He gave an apologetic bow of his head, reorganizing his thoughts, and then the words in his throat and mouth. He would have to force himself to speak with a different dialect. He could already hear Isi scolding him in his head, demanding that he float back down to earth from the different planet Eiry appeared to be visiting.

In return for the other's small smile, Eiry gave one of his own, an understanding one. "Oh, yes, my language is a trained one, trained by the writers of an older time. My first teachers, my heroes, my gods," he said. He had to admit, though, that his speech was never praised by anyone as special. He had heard all other sorts of left handed compliments, but never had he heard the term "special" used in lieu of his silver tongue. Eiry felt his smile grow more honest. "For your sake, young one, though I am grateful for your compliment, I will try my best to speak in a more contemporary tune." He cleared his throat, as if the action would help clear his words as well. He tried again to speak.

"You do not disturb me and this time is more perfect than others. I am only putting away books. It's quite a boorish task, really, and I would welcome some company! Thank you for your help, Cesc," he said, taking the books that Cesc had collected himself. He added them to their correct place in the pile and tucked his fingers underneath them, readying to carry them up in his arms again. With the lift and the pump of his wings, he readjusted himself back into a 90 degree angle and took the first book from the top, checking its spine to find its home location. He sent his red gaze towards Cesc, smiling at him in welcome. "So!" he beamed aloud, "What is it that you seek? I'll do anything within my power to help you, but I must ask you first, what brings you here to see me? I'm incredibly curious! Not a soul has come seeking me before, no one besides my family, I'm afraid. I'm very fortunate to have a visitor!"  

[Atmadja]

Rhedefre focused on Eiry as he spoke, trying hard to follow, his eyes alert and his brow slightly furrowed. It was not anything he was used to, but he enjoyed the rhythm of it, and enjoyed the way it seemed so easy for the Sigel. He knew the feeling of grasping some modes of speaking more easily than others. He wondered, though, what Eiry's words meant -- trained by the writers of an older time? Did that mean that Eiry spent more time reading, then, than speaking with others?

"Do not trouble yourself too much," Cesc said. "I confess it is not, ah, simple for me, but I would rather learn than make you speak a different way, ah, than your usage... no, you are use..." The stag cleared his throat, dropping his eyes and sifting through words in his head. "... used to."

Cesc's expression became suddenly slightly tinged with embarrassment, and a boyish, self-conscious little smile grew on his face. "Excuse me." His hands shifted his grip on the small package he carried, and he looked away and then back at Eiry. "Anyhow, ah... I come to see you. I know you did me a service a long time ago -- or maybe not so long-- and I never did thank you."

Cesc locked eyes with Eiry, his gaze direct, his eyes gentle and warm. "I came to correct that, if I could."  

[Storei]

Atmadja

"Good, good! You are already learning so much, I can see, much more than I was at your stage of development, but honestly, it is no trouble to me. It is a challenge that I have proposed to myself. " said Eiry beaming again at him. He had to admire this frei's speech. It was already quite complicated for one so young as he. Eiry, at a similar age, was still butchering the common language as if it were a score of vegetables and he was making a salsa. He would splice words together, mix them up, smash them into one word, or forget to finish his sentences. It was much harder trying to understand him then than it was now. Grinning his Chesire smile at Cesc, he shook his head gently to reassure him. "The way I speak is reserved for festivals and plays, not commonplace tongue. If I were to speak in sonnets my whole life, I'm afraid I would be rather lonely! Not many know how to carry on a conversation with me, and I'm afraid I've alienated myself with my love for the older tongue. Once you've learned how to speak cordially with contemporary society, I might come crawling to you begging for lessons! It'll be our own rendition of My Fair Lady. Where I am the lady fair, and you my tongue teacher!" Eiry laughed to himself, really enjoying that he had made to connection to a play, when he realized that Rhedefre probably had no idea what he was talking about. People often did. So Eiry quieted himself and then looked apologetically at Cesc while he heard his explanation, tinted with that sweet shy smile. There was something in his hands.

Eiry's brows immediately furrowed in confusion, not knowing what the package could be, or why it would be there in the first place. His wide red eyes peered over the brim of his reading glasses at Cesc with wonder.

"Came to see me? Specifically?" he said, quite taken aback by the notion, and honestly, quite flattered, but then, learning the reason, an almost pained look crossed his face as he remembered why. "Oh! Oh, Rhedefre, it was no trouble, no trouble at all! You and I were both wandering souls, happened upon one another in a lonely place! It was only natural that I would help you find your way back. Actually," Eiry paused for a moment, remembering one important fact about his character, "Actually, unnatural for me, but only because my natural soul is that of a will-o-wisp, and their tendency is to get people lost, but...Oh, you know what I mean. At least I hope you do."

Eiry talked a lot when he got flustered and he realized this as he found himself rambling again. So, finding a short ladder nearby the bookshelf, something he never had to use because of his natural inclination to float, he set the books down and then gave his full attention to the stag raevan. He was, after all, locking eyes with him, staring right at him, and Eiry had to pause at such a genuine glance, and swallow.

"You are more than welcome, Cesc," said Eiry quietly, still made nervous by such a kind intention, towards him of all people.
 

[Atmadja]

The soft smile on Cesc's face slowly began to slide as Eiry began to speak of My Fair Lady, a play hitherto unknown to the stag. Rhedefre's mind tried to fill in gaps with logic, but all he could conjure to his mind was a mental image of the sigel in women's wear, and the picture, he told himself, was almost certainly not what Eiry intended. A look of confusion drew the stag's eyebrows together, and he opened and closed his mouth, trying to grope for the proper response. The ridiculousness of his lack of knowledge drew an amused and humble smile to his lips. This was not going how he wanted...

But Eiry continued to speak, and relief washed over the stag. He would not have to show his ignorance any further than his expressions already did, thank goodness. The minty sigel was smarter -- much smarter -- than he was, and Rhedefre accepted the explanation with open arms. He would have to read to catch up, and not a little amount.

"Y--es," Rhedefre managed at last, glossing over the bit about the will-o-wisp, unsure of what he was meant to respond to such a claim. A soul that was meant to get someone lost? Was that something real? It seemed unfathomable. And something else he should research...

His head already light with trying to keep up, the stag rubbed the back of his neck, his foreigner's smile still wide on his lips. "I -- yes." Cesc tried again. "I am glad that I did not cause you trouble, but all the same, I wanted to give ... the, ah, thanks."

Cesc continued despite his language and knowledge failings, looking down at the package in his hand and sliding his hand down from his neck to brace the brown-papered bundle with both hands. He looked back up into the sigel's red eyes and held it all out, his intention clear. "This, it is for you."

Storei

 

[Storei]

Great. Great! He was talking too much, he was confusing the poor frei. Eiry could tell by the way his brows pursed and by the way he tried to search for a response, immediately making the older sigel regret his wandering tongue. He tried to slow down, eventually coming to a stop and just letting the frei talk, explain the purpose that brought him to this dusty old library in the first place, his mission to visit Eiry specifically. What a strange thought, Eiry couldn't help but question it. This would be the first moment in many months that he was sought out for something that wasn't an explanation for his mischievous deeds or otherwise. Rhedefre was here to give thanks. To him! Of all people! Like the wisp that ignited his soul, a little flame of pride sparked up in his chest. He had done something good.

It was Eiry's turn to open and close his mouth with shock, not quite sure how to respond to a gift. He had received them before, on his birthday or on special holidays, but it didn't seem appropriate to react like he did then. This was a different kind of gift, one of gratitude. Swallowing again out of nervousness and hoping that he would do the socially acceptable thing in such circumstances, he opened his hands for the extended gift. His hands graced just lightly against Cesc's fingers as the weight of the gift exchanged from one grip to the other. He chuckled a little bit, sounding awkward, and turned the gift in his hands, trying to find the easiest way to open it. Generally, the wisp would forgo the ripping paper experience by just slipping his intangible hand into the box, grasping the mystery inside, and pulling it back out again, but he felt like that was inappropriate at this time. He owed his direct interaction with the gift, he had to honor it.

"Rhedefre...This is very kind, a kindness I've never...Thank you." he mumbled as he focused on the box.

Gently feeling out the creases and breaking the tape with his nails, Eiry paused for a moment, the gift against his hip, as he pushed his reading glasses upwards on his nose and began again. With the careful ripping of paper and unfolding of its bends, Eiry released the box from within and raised his brows at it. There was still no clue as to what was inside, the box itself was a simple color, a dust rosy pink. It might have been one of the pastry boxes from Cesc's guardian's shop or perhaps that was his associative imagination.

He slipped his fingers under the final cusp, pulled upwards, and braced himself for the gift that was inside.

Atmadja

 

[Atmadja]

Cesc shook his head at Eiry's words, but he stopped himself before the phrase 'it's nothing special' left his mouth. The truth was, it was something special, or at least, it was to him. The stag had spent many hours working on the sigel's gift, meaning it to be a work of true and humble gratitude, and although he was not certain if the older Raevan would like it, it was more than something small and silly purchased without a thought.

"I hope you like it," Cesc said instead, watching the other as he unwrapped the box. It was the stereotypical work of a man, the wrapping, not quite even and not quite beautiful, perhaps a second thought to the gift inside.

Eiry opened the rose-colored box (the Vermillion stylized big-top logo giving proof to his conjectures), and the real gift lay inside, wrapped gently in thin, semi-translucent tissue. It was a brown linen-covered book, handmade, the pages heavy and sewn into the binding with thread. The thick pages were off-white and the texture of them had tooth, and there were flecks of green within them. Faintly, very faintly, the book smelled of the outdoors, of herbs and plants. It was not the work of a master binder, certainly not, but it was obviously made with care and attention to detail.

If Rhedefre had legs, he would have shifted his weight, watching Eiry's red eyes.

"I thought the pages looked like a marsh," said the stag. He smiled with faint self-consciousness, but his smile was earnest and amiable. "I do not know if you write -- only that you work with books. I did not know your style, so if you would rather something else ..." Cesc made a vague gesture, unsure of what he meant to offer. "But -- I wanted to give you something. You returned me to my family, after all."  

[Storei]

Eiry had to smirk at the wrapping, finding it honest and familiar. It was like how Isi would wrap presents, with an intent but never quite the grace that might accompany a professional gift wrapper. It had tape showing on the sides in awkward angles and in awkward places and some of the paper bunched up in corners. Nevertheless, he was careful in unwrapping it, and when he found the pink box inside to truly be the bakery boxes, Eiry let his smile bloom wider on his face. That was cute. In fact, he didn't think that there could be a better box. It was already perfect. The moment that he looked inside, though, his hands unfurling the tissue paper that bound the real gift within, he paused. It was a book. Not just any book, though, it was a handmade book, with heavy paper made from herbs and plants, bound with care into the spine. It was beautiful. He set the box down to the side, on top of the stack of books that he had been carrying around, his eyes locked on the perfect gift in his hands. He had to open it gently, his pale fingers exploring the texture of the book's pages, the corners and the linen of the cover. He pulled it to his face, taking a big inhale, before he sighed happily and took another. He could smell the earth, the leaves and the plants.

Peeking out from behind the book, Eiry slowly opened his red eyes, still entranced by the book's aroma, at first looking at the ceiling, no where in particular, and then to Cesc's pink eyes. His eyes were glossy.

"More than that, it's...It's perfect," Eiry answered in awed response, "I love it, the smell, the feel, the shape, the weight of it, I love it, Rhedefre. I've never had a journal before. Never once before did I think that my words were worth the ink that it took to inscribe them on paper, but now that I have a place to store them, I think that I might try some writing of my own! I always wrote in dabbles on napkins and on the backs of receipts, little slivers of poems. I would like to try writing...I would like to fill this book with words!"

Inspired by this, he held the book between his hands, closing it and then looking to the stag frei with hope as his wings burst with a newer and brighter light behind him, "Do you think, once that I fill each page with poems or stories or hopes or dreams, that perhaps you could read it? Tell me what you think? It would mean the world to me if I could make something beautiful with this beautiful book that you have given me! I would like to share it in return!"

Atmadja

 

[Atmadja]

Cesc let out a faint laugh at Eiry's reaction, the sound pleased and relieved and a little embarrassed. He had expected Eiry to be pleasant and politely grateful, but the sigel's true reaction took him by surprise. He smiled a languid smile and rubbed the back of his neck, feeling the rough plastic of the band-aids he still wore on two of his fingers. Stitching the book had not been easy work, but it was certainly worth pricking himself to see that he had brought the sigel some happiness.

"If you wish it, I would be honored," said the stag, letting his hand fall back to his side. His ears swiveled toward Eiry, leaning forward at a slight angle, as though making sure the sigel knew he had his attention. "Although you may not find me much of a critic. If you write as you speak, though, I am sure it will be ... great."

Great, he'd said. Great felt like such a flat adjective, thought Cesc with some amusement. Such a basic one. But he did not know many better. He was going to have to study if he didn't want to get lost in the sigel's words, both spoken and written.

He was going to have to go home and ask Granny Maplethorpe for some more books...  

[Storei]

Eiry found himself reeling from the feeling of warmth bubbling throughout his chest. He felt wonderful and he felt appreciated and loved, and for once in his life, he felt like had done something right, instead of his usual trouble making antics. It felt good. He hugged the book to his chest and felt it's corners with his thumbs, absolutely beside himself with joy. He nodded excitedly at the frei, pushing his glasses up onto his face after having skewed them from pressing his face to the gift. "I would like it very much. Members of my family are disinclined to read my writing, so busy they are, but I don't think they would understand it as much as someone from the outside could! They don't," Eiry paused, thinking of his estranged brother and his guardian, as well as the head of the house. They didn't understand Eiry as much as he would like. They were always distracted by something else. "Quite see eye to eye with me. They find poetry a bore, and they nod politely at my romantics, but they do not really understand, do not take my heart and see for what it beats. It's hard to let the other see my work when they do not invest in it. If you understand my meaning."

Eiry looked up again from the book, his red eyes happy, as he noticed the other's perked ears. So interesting, they were. Like deer ears, small, but interested and incredibly expressive. Eiry had to fight strong urges to reach out and touch them, but he managed to keep his hands on the book instead. "If you would like, I could bring you books, Cesc," he said, "Until I'm able to fill this book with words and stories and poetry. I could bring you books, whatever you'd like, all kinds."

He hoped the other would take up his offer, he desperately wanted to have someone to talk to, someone outside of his family circle. He twitched his own elven ears in hope, hugging them close to his head. They would never be as expressive as Cesc's, but he sure hoped that the other could see.

Atmadja

 

[Atmadja]

The sigel's joy was electric, and the sight of it both energized and humbled Cesc, who smiled and dropped his eyes and raised them again, unsure of what was proper to do. It all tugged at his lips but also strangely he felt as though a laugh would be inappropriate, and so he fell into trying to pull his laughter back but keeping his smile just the right size on his face. He had to put it all aside -- after all, the sigel was still talking, and his speech was still a few notches out of Cesc's league. Full concentration was still necessary to comprehend it.

But understanding the sigel's meaning didn't bring Rhedefre any joy. It stifled his impulse to laugh, and he tilted his head slightly as though worried he had misunderstood. The smile on his face faltered. His family was uninterested in him? Or at least, his creative endeavours?

He must've misheard... If nothing else, he shouldn't be privy to that knowledge so quickly, wasn't that so?

The stag blinked a few times, trying to catch up. He was being offered something. Books. Of course -- Eiry was a librarian, after all.

"Books -- yes, I do like them," said Cesc, still slightly unsure of the first part of the sigel's speech. He was fairly sure someone, at least, was not fond of poetry. Not him? Did Eiry think he might not be fond of verse? "I... ah, I do not know much poetry, really. Just one, my guardian taught me: Out upon it, I have loved/ three whole days together. And am like to love three more -- if it prove fine weather."

He smiled a helpless sort of smile, letting out the remnants of his earlier, kept-in laugh. "I would not mind knowing more."