#query / ic.

[frostgnawd]

✧ keep: an important part of your personality that others seldom see, that remains a vital part of who you are even if nobody knows it's there.

When he is 9,

The eyes of the governess stare down upon him as he's called to read aloud. His words don't trip over each other the way they had when he'd first arrived, tongue clumsy with the weight of a language he'd grasped odds and ends and no centers of, but they do stumble, stutter, cut off, when he meets her gaze. It's the weight of those eyes upon him that he is still not used to -- eyes free of the unique cross he will forever bear.

When he is 14,

Jean and Diluc take to presenting drills with practiced ease, as was part of the routine of the fearless Ordo Favonius, and while Kaeya had thought he'd have fully caught up to their bravado by now -- to put it simply, he hasn't. Today, again, his hand trembles as it grasps the hilt of his sword, and he nearly drops it when he swings, but at least he's started to learn to play off the laughter that inevitably comes his way. Work in progress, he tells himself. He promises the two dearest to him that he's just trying to ensure he'll never have to play leader -- I'm perfect otherwise, aren't I? -- and offers a jab about how he's certainly seen Diluc drop his claymore before to divert the subject.

When he is 17,

He stares at the church's entryway for a beat, then another, before sighing to himself and ultimately departing in favor of the Ordo Favonius barracks. There's a first aid kit there, though there's not a healer, but he's gleaned enough knowledge from the treatments he's received previously to know what he ought to do for the fresh burn that still sears the side of his face. Nobody's seen it just yet, thank gods, and he intends to keep it that way, ascot wadded up and pressed firmly to ensure the rain doesn't soak the injury. It might feel nice, but Kaeya doesn't want to know what kind of infections would come from the wrathful sky above. He makes sure to keep his head down in the hallways, and mentally works out what he'll explain to whatever captain he'll surely be shoved towards in the morning.

When he is 22,

He adjusts the garments carefully, gingerly, feeling both at home and foreign entirely in the ensemble he's been provided. Idyia calls him from her place on the stage, and Kaeya meanders out from the fitting room obediently to present his new ensemble. When so many eyes land on him, he can't help but fidget with the dressing, shifting side to side in a motion that almost looks nervous.

It seems, even after all these years, he's still terribly shy.

[fallensxvior]

“Happy Birthday, Sir!”

"Keenie, my friend, my birthday is in April!" he laughed, embracing the fallen Cherub with a smile.

But he could not resist her cheer and her joy, infectious as it always had been. The girl was without compare, a light that warmed the soul as soon as one drew close. "But thank you.. none the less. Are you doing anything for Sinsmas? I am told it's a popular holiday in Hell."

[the-unconquered-queen]

Because I'm seeing cakegate on my dash again, let's stir up some old drama

[askganondorftobadragmire]

What is your relationship with Ghirahim like?

Just hearing the name makes his blood boil, but he keeps an outwardly calm but callous appearance. It's only a question, a curiosity.

"Close before he betrayed my trust. I do not wish to speak of it, so I suggest refraining from inquiring more."

[voiderequiem]

「 @universestreasures | Yudias Velgear」 issued a challenge:

"Zuwijo?" The prince tugs at the taller male's sleeves, teal eyes looking at him with that face that was hard for the captain to ignore. "Please stay by my side till I've fallen asleep. I do not wish to be alone tonight." (From Yudias)

His place was not here. His place was to stand at the ready outside the prince's door. A job some should think be saved for someone ranked below a soldier of Zuwijo's caliber-- he had become the captain of the guard, after all. But Zuwijo had personally requested the position some time ago, and ever since it had become an integral part of his duties and routine.

Like this he could keep an eye out for the prince; keep him out of trouble, out of danger. But more than anything, somewhere along the way, he himself couldn't rest without the prince nearby-- something he'd never admit if it could be helped. Should something happen to his charge the moment he wasn't looking.......he'd never forgive himself. And a worried sleep was no sleep at all, he's come to find. He could perform best if he was well rested, and being well rested came only after he was sure the prince was at ease first.

With that in mind and heart; he had been quick to turn on his heel to take his leave after the Velgearian prince had settled into bed. Only to be stopped just as quickly, the call of his name upon the prince's tongue stopping him in his tracks before the resistance on his person could be registered.

His attention returned to other without question or hesitation, the air of professionalism surrounding the captain never one to waver. Or rather... it was never one to waver under normal circumstances, but the moment his lilac hues had locked with those teals his breath had caught in his throat-- stuck there, suffocating him until he had managed to free his own voice through a small cough disguised behind a disgruntled sort of noise. The sort of noise that was easy to mistake as a mark of annoyance, an emotion that could easily explain the difficult expression he now wore, despite that being the furthest from the truth.

❝ At your command, my prince. ❞

Without removing himself from the other's grasp he returns to his side, standing at the ready without any indication he would take a seat while waiting for the prince to fall asleep.

But he doesn't stand there quietly, no. The shifting of fabric sounding as loud as the clashing of blades as Zuwijo moves to rest his palm under that of the prince's hand that was still attached to his sleeve. His way of making sure his presence was felt by the other should they close their eyes.

❝ ...You need not be alone. ❞ A sudden say from the captain who doesn't ask for permission before speaking plainly in a softened tone; a trait between those of their ranks and positions that only they seemed to share. It was moments like this that dissolved the barrier between a royal and his guard that only the prince had been capable of creating. And Zuwijo couldn't help but fall into it, the prince's trap, each and every time. ❝ Tonight or any other night. ❞ -

[sxverana]

The draculina would be visited, seemingly at random, by a small ball of iridescent but soft light - which passed by one of the windows of her home. It darted around for a while, stopping at the door and seemingly attempting to... crawl underneath the door? It was very much like seeing a cat reach its paw through the impossibly small space before it quickly gave up and wooshed away.

"..?" Her ears perked with interest, feeling a small pull to follow the light. Whatever it was, wherever it was leading.. She couldn't help but need to know.

It wasn't long before she was trying to chase it down, heels clatting on the hardwood floors of her home with every step.

[mindsmade]

[ silence ] 🤫

meme

Two plastic chairs he bought days ago sit atop his trailer, each occupied. On the right sits V, piecing together the obscure tidbits of information he can find on constructs, the Relic — all under the guise of simply browsing; distracting himself.

On his left sits So Mi, reading a book — of actual paper. Old school, he'd called it, to which she retorted not everything needs to be wired to be worth their time. She had a point, and so he'd nodded in assent, smiling that type of smile only seen when legitimately impressed.

That was about an hour ago. Since then, he's scooted his chair a little closer to her twice — under the pretence that he just wanted to see what she was reading. To some degree, he did, if only to learn what she was into; what relaxed her. More importantly, though, more honestly, at that: he just wanted to sit a little closer to her.

She's since placed her legs onto his lap, so casually, having adjusted the angle of her chair in relation to his minutes ago. The only thing keeping him from resting his hand on her shin is that age-old hyperawareness of his; the shame in not only initiating touch, but even returning it in any way beyond the passive.

He unplugs from the net, shutting all windows in favour of soaking up the feeling of her proximity even in the face of his longing for just a little more. The sight of the sun setting over the Badlands, reaching towards and across the city, is an added bonus — and a welcome one in his endeavour to take his mind off his pining.

His eyes slip shut as he lets the citrine light wash over him, lighting the right side of his face and leaving its left counterpart in shadow. The white of his shirt takes on an orange undertone; likewise the plastic armrests occupied by his forearms and hands.

His mind's on the comfortable weight of So Mi's lower legs on his thighs, however — still, despite his intentions to focus on the sinking sun. He needs no practice in restraint, so he doesn't need to take this as an occasion to do so. In fact, he hesitates to even let himself enjoy the sensation, wondering if even that constitutes a transgression, notwithstanding its existence being limited to his own mind.

A sigh escapes him as he tries to untangle his thoughts. Maybe he should've tired himself out on the net.

Or maybe he should turn his head to look at So Mi in search of his next distraction. He yields to that compulsion, finding her eyes on his already, assessing him from below two arched eyebrows.

❛  Sorry. Feelin' restless.  ❜

'That's what this was all about.'

Right. He grins again, acknowledging the tenacity of his inability to sit still — with her, with himself, with his rumination.

❛  Hrm ... Fine.  ❜ Another pause ensues, this one spent holding a breath at the top of what've otherwise manifested as another sigh. The darkening skyline of the megapolis draws his gaze towards it. Or, more likely: his reluctance to drink in the sight of So Mi's sunbathed features for fear of what that might say about him and his feelings compels him to look west again.

❛  You're good company to practice sittin' restlessly with, at least.  ❜

[unfxllenone]

❄️ (blehh)

EVEN HAT GUY? (just kidding she will pelt him back its fine)

Realistically, there is no winning against him -- not in this game of flurries and ice. An untiring puppet built for battle does not a weak snowbrawler make. Granted, it's not that serious! She can take the snowball to the face and be done with it, or drop a comment that's a carbon copy of his to end this in a huff: Since when did you participate in something so childish? comes to mind.

... But she's having fun, unfortunately, and, ever the optimist, Lumine believes she can find a silver lining despite the loss that she will surely wind up with.

Her acting skills come into play, donning an expression of confusion as she points out a tree. The branches are spindly, though some sections hold snow. Hat Guy doesn't seem to grasp what she's gesturing at (which is the point, considering nothing's there), and all it takes is a claim of Maybe only I can see it..? (because something requiring her magic sight or touch or whatever else is part and parcel of her journey) before she's clambering up the tree in a careful, practiced manner, managing surprisingly well despite the ice that covers the branches. She pretends to be inspecting something on the thin showing of bark very closely before her gaze drops to the ground below, and she gestures as though something has fallen, urgently requiring him to grab it. He's not foolish enough to walk beneath the branches she's on (smart, even if they weren't locked in a winter wonderland's combat), but he is still foolish enough to walk beneath the tree, and that is all it takes for her to play it to her advantage.

A jump has her latching onto another branch nearby; it creaks with her weight, but the only part of it that falls are the lumps of snow once caught between forked branches.

Satisfyingly, right onto his head. Hat.

She snorts.

Vindication is surely due, and she knows there's only so much leverage the tree can give her -- but even so, the smug grin she gives him surely conveys she's pleased with the outcome regardless.

[chronicleking]

「 @universestreasures​ | Kisara」 issued a challenge:

Her wings and tail were in full view as Kisara gazed upon him, for she had no need to hide her true self before him when they were here. She pats the white fabric of her gown on her lap, an invitation for Seto to join her and relax in her lap. The dragoness could see something hidden in his radiant blue eyes, something that singled a deep concern. "Tell me what ails you, my dearest." (From Kisara, Nobles UwU.)

He doesn't relax, even as she comes into his full view. His shoulders remain squared and his gaze remains one carved from ice. A harsh expression to most who found themselves exposed to it, but to Kisara... she always managed to see past his frigid exterior-- Treating the glass surrounding his heart as if it were more akin to that of a window than the mirror he viewed it as.

--An opaque mirror which reflects that of the world around it, the beauty and misery of it all, and keeps it out. Or a crystalline window which allows the light to pass through it to combat the darkness sealed within.

Either way; the glass cracked before Kisara's silvery-toned voice.

It was a dangerous weapon. One that only the maiden could wield. One that could destroy him at any moment should she so choose.

He stops in his tracks the moment she spoke, as if he dares not to overshadow the tune with the echoing of footfalls. A few seconds pass before Seto responds in kind-- only after the lingering vibrations in the air settle completely.

❝ Shouldn't you know by now? I don't bring my business back into your bedroom. ❞

The words he speaks are cold in nature, but the voice that delivered them told a slightly different tale. To the untrained ear it was easy to miss, but for those close to him they knew it was Seto's way of acknowledging concerns without completely invalidating them through blunt rejection.

He just... rather not talk about it right now. Not when Kisara's inviting gesture drew him in so.

...It's not information he rather her be privy to either. Considering the weight of what's just been thrown upon him. But he can't just hope for her to drop the matter so easily. Had it been anyone else he would have had just told her to forget it and let him be.

❝ ...Those old geezers, ❞ Mentioning them at all should spell out his troubles. The elders have been nothing but troublesome since the moment Seto's memories burdened him. Not only do they cause him to struggle at every turn with his rise to power, now they're trying to use him as a bargaining chip! HIM! If they think they can do such a thing without retaliation on his side then they were sorely wrong. ❝ I'm going to change the way things are run around here, I swear it-- ❞

The coat hanging off his shoulders slips off with ease, the lustrous fabric flowing into rippled piles on the white tiled floors. It was if a waterfall had just run dry-- beautiful as it's last drop fell before then revealing all the uglied jagged dangers that lay beneath it's surface. Seto was much the same. All the bright whites of the surface of his world couldn't begin to bring light to the darkest parts of himself.

At least, That was what he once thought. That was until he had met Kisara, who's light threatened to obliterate him completely if he wasn't careful when basking in it.

When he lowers to his knees before her it's with great care despite how his body argued with him to simply accept her and trust the weight of it all to her; his troubles as well as himself. Instead he first places his hand atop her own, welcoming the warmth of her skin that came at a great contrast given how cold to the touch she appeared to be.

A beauty, carved of marble and ice.

How part of him wished to preserve her seemingly delicate nature, despite knowing very well how wrong that perception of her was. The other part of him knew better than anyone-- That she was not as fragile as this form would lead most to believe. But knowing that wasn't enough for Seto.

It didn't matter if he could believe in Kisara's power. It didn't matter if he could trust in her or Mokuba to protect themselves. With the way things were now none of that mattered. It was only a matter of time before something outside his control would happen again-- And with the recent announcement of his arrangement resounding inside his head and heart it was becoming clear. Now more than ever.

He couldn't sit around and wait any longer, he had to start pushing back against these ridiculous traditions. He wasn't going to remain a pawn on someone else's playing board forever. He was going to become a king-- The King of Kings of this land and do more than return it to it's former glory. He was going to usher in an entirely new age; one where Kisara could once again spread her wings outside the walls he had built around her. As his eye finally locks his gaze with her own his mumbling rant changes into something full of resolve.

❝ --I swear it. On my very life. ❞

It's only then that he seems to relax all at once. As if an incredible weight was finally withdrawn from his shoulders as he finally accepts Kisara's invitation to lower his head down onto her lap. But even this seemed more like a deep bow-- a sealing of a promise-- than anything. -

[bookwyrminspiration]

attempting to connect the thunder saga to acod but i haven’t reread it lately and my brain is tired what are your thoughts???

Mulled over this for a few days and I'm thinking perhaps we can tie Ody's arc in Scylla/Mutiny to Thaena's warping idea of what being a guardian means.

Odysseus decides 6 men is a sacrifice he gets to make alone, as Thaena thinks the destruction of the Vané nation is worth buying time and that she can force that call. "Give up your honor and faith," like how being a Guardian becomes so distorted from its original purpose she's appoints herself master of who lives and dies. Literally. "We must do what it takes to survive" as her justification--she's saving humanity, so anything towards that end is excusable or necessary.

And as Eurylochus cannot abide that and stabs Ody in the back, Teraeth stabs and kills his mother. A parallel to "then you have forced my hand," because he literally had no other choice but to die and take a nation with him. Neither of them wanted to, but they had to. Because "there is no price he won't pay."

We could also tie that to Relos Var I suppose--man, Thaena would hate how similar they are. The justification and impossible prices he'll pay.

I'm sure there's other ties that can be made, but that was the first one that came to mind

[enterpainment]

「 @universestreasures | Serena」 issued a challenge:  

Serena was a hard worker. Of her siblings, she pushes herself the most often and with the most incredible intensity. Her training were constant, usually taking place late at night following a long day of insufferable lessons or outings with her forced betrothed. By all means she should rest, but she can't afford to if she was to break free of this hell hole. One such evening, she finds herself sparing again with Yuri, who had become a constant in her training due to her father's interference. However, he did serve some use as a sparing partner and a person for her to vent out her frustrations to. If he has to stick around, might as well have a purpose. After once again managing to pin him to a wall, with sweat dripping down her face, Serena suddenly feels her body turn off. Seems like her exhaustion from the long day and hours of training had finally caught up to her, and her body fell unconscious right onto the retainer's suited form. (Nobles To Yuri. Let's see Yuri Disney Fastplay LMFAO)

On most nights Yuri didn't mind this. He quite enjoyed playing this game with her, actually; one where he could watch her face twist in frustration everytime she failed to put him down in a timely manner. He'd often throw her a bone, allowing her some advantage before turning it around on her in some way, shape or form. Mostly in the verbal sense as she was fairly easy to irritate. Unfortunately, to him at least, in their dynamic it was the only power he currently held over her.

Like this, stuck in this...skin suit, he'd call it, she could overpower him in the physical sense. But Yuri had ways to remind her that his word, and by proxy, the word of her father was far stronger than her will to run him through and be done with this obligation of hers.

But it would seem that tonight even Yuri was reaching his limit though, as evident of his movements starting to lack the usual enthusiasm he reserved for these sessions. He almost didn't even try when Serena caught him slacking--

The force of his back hitting the wall so suddenly was more than enough to rattle this frail form of his, much to his annoyance. Compared to his kin though; Yuri was not one to complain needlessly.

❝ ...This has gone on quite long enough, hasn't it? ❞

As much as Yuri would looooooooove to spend all his nights having the girl chase him around with her teeth bared, he was beginning to become irate with it. It was the same song and dance each night now, and it was starting to bore him. And honestly, he'd rather be tending to his propagation operations. The manor was all sorts of dull and stuffy, and it was solely on him to spruce the place up a bit using his talents. At this rate all the plants he had painstakingly nurtured thus far would dry out and die off before Serena would go to bed.

How funny it truly was though, the tables turning as they were.

That's when all the power behind her hold all but vanished, and soon enough the only thing keeping him against the wall now was the weight of Serena's body collapsed against his own.

Oh...

....Huh.

He was starting to think it wasn't going to work-- The thought tickled him in such a way a light chuckle escaped him as he moved an arm under her own to keep her from slipping out from him and onto the floor. Wouldn't want to wake her up now.

❝ That took a lot longer to build up in your system than I thought. ❞

Really, she should know better by now to think he'd play their game fairly.

Once he was sure he had secured his hold on her, he frees his other arm out from under her. He lifts a finger, revealing the perfectly manicured nail had been sharpened to a fine point. A quick glance and it was easy to miss how it had been the only one shaped in such a way, as if on purpose. It was then he brushes the loose strands of her ponytail aside to reveal the nape of her neck before lightly grazing the claw-like nail across her skin-- One of many thin scratches he had managed to tag her with over the course of their fight.

Dripping from the line he drew was a substance far too light in color to be blood... The beautiful pink hue was Yuri's own design, of course. A poison he had developed specifically for Serena and her recent problem.

She surely wouldn't take kindly to the idea of him poisoning her into taking a nap though, so he had kept it subtle by keeping the doses small and building it up over time.

And of course, this was by no means the poison he personally produced. He was still saving that one for the day Serena accepted his loyalty to her. This was just a simple sleep-aid derived from one of the many gardens he had helped to maintain in his time here. He's sure she'll come to appreciate the many things he brings to her table, but in the mean time he'll be sure to appreciate the silence the rest of the night should now bring.

After bestowing the last of his gift to his mistress he'll move to toss her unceremoniously up and over his shoulder. Had he not been her retainer this would make for a quite a scene, but considering his position and Serena's own nature he's sure no one would bother with them as he takes the long way back to her chambers. He had to check on all his precious little sprouts on the way, of course. It helped that the hour was so late though, fortunately for her there shouldn't be any in the halls to witness the scene anyway despite how entertaining it might've been.

❝ Take a nice long rest, princess. Your strikes were really rather weak today, I'll have to report as much to your father, you know? ❞ -

[frostgnawd]

🎄

tw: alc mention || @currentlyoffwork

" Now look who's all by his lonesome! "

Kaeya grins at the stranger who's settled himself in a corner, content to read his book despite the not-so-peaceful-quiet of the tavern's patio. But then Kaeya notices the headphones the stranger dons; a blink, once, twice, and he taps the side of his head, mimicking the position of the earpieces, as if to ask if he's currently being tuned out.

And then, whether he is or isn't, he points upwards -- stares, for a beat, until he's certain the other has noticed the mistletoe above them too.

There's a half-hearted shrug (mostly because one hand holds a very precious goblet of wine he cares not to spill) as if to say it can't be helped, you know.

" But don't worry-- " Kaeya promises, elbows pressing onto the table for support. " I'll hardly disturb you. "

And he actually keeps to his word -- Alhaitham doesn't even have to put down his book, because Kaeya just presses a kiss on the hand holding up whatever esoteric novel he's indulging himself in. Something on Deshret, Kaeya vaguely notes.

His eye crinkles as he peeks over the cover of the book, and when he pulls back, the rest of his expression looks just as playfully smug. As if he's actually accomplished something here.

" Thank you for sharing the moment, friend ~! " And with that, Kaeya turns on his heel, offering little more than a wave over his shoulder as he disappears into the crowd again.

[fallensxvior]

Is still wary around him , like a stray cat , but pushes an apple his way if he wants it, not saying anything .

He couldn't help the small smile as Yeshua took the apple in hand. He was still getting used to the new prosthesis, and what better way to test it than to hone those fine motor skills? His palm cradled it for a moment, fingers gently squeezing, trying to get used to the feeling as he took the smallest bite. It was almost like having his arm back, in a way. "Thank you, brother."

[elite-amarys]

So uh. Wyrm n you. What's your deal with her?

Wyrm uses it/its or he/him pronouns. He is of fae descent, and holds a preconceived dislike of me due to my Steel type specialty. It also conducts itself in a way I find deeply disagreeable. It frequently makes threats of violence or death against my fellow students, and does not back down when informed that he is crossing a boundary.

He is a violent and dangerous individual, and I am deeply annoyed that its connection to the Director means that I cannot do much of anything to stop it. It is also incredibly insistent that we abide by Fae rules while refusing to so much as acknowledge the rules set forth by the humans at BBA. I find this deeply unfair and hypocritical.

More than anything, though, I am concerned for my friend Lloyd, who is in a romantic relationship with this person.

[askganondorftobadragmire]

What do you associate with the word Spirit?

"Typically, the visual of a soul or a nonphysical entity comes to mind, but there is another. Spiritual Magic gives a rainbow-colored visual, which divinity uses instead of Elemental or Ethereal Magic. Thus, it is an ability of the Six Sages, the Dovehearts, and Boarbloods like myself."

"You could say I see both representations melded together."

[voiderequiem]

「 @universestreasures | Yudias Velgear」 issued a challenge:

Prince Velgear falls asleep in Zuwijo’s lap in the flower field. What does he do?

He's going to realize moments after the fact that somewhere along the way he had gotten his fingers lost in the prince's pale blue locks. Only noticing once his fingers had grazed past the skin; the sudden warmth causing his wandering thoughts to collect all at once.

It was unbecoming behavior on both their parts. Especially coming from the captain of the Velgearian guard.

But does that stop him from continuing the motion; from returning his hand to the top of the prince's head to follow the path paved by the thousands of strands that flowed down along the smaller's form, weaving together the very image of a river that spilled out across his own lap as the prince slept soundly in the center of it all.

This time would have been better spent doing anything else, anything at all. But Zuwijo cannot help but enjoy the quiet of it all. A gentle breeze, the sound of grass blades and flower petals meeting one another, and the barely audible breath of the prince at rest.

He decided to take a calculated risk, an assessment of sorts. There was something he wanted to check. The prince was his responsibility after all, wasn't he? So it was on him to make sure....That the prince was still breathing-- his rest had been so deep, so peaceful that one could barely make out the rise and fall of his chest at this angle. So he moves to place an extended finger just below their nose, awaiting a breath to pass over it. But when none came he lowered them more, his own hand barely a hair's breadth from the other's lips.

…and despite knowing full well the prince was in perfectly fine health, he can't help the subtle smile at feeling their breath against his skin. It was reassuring, warm, and….

…. inviting.

Lilac hues assessed the situation laid out before him further. The more calculating part of himself noticing the chance that presented itself, while the more reserved part reminded him of his position in all this.

--All he had to do was learn over, lean over and he'd meet with the prince the same way the flowers and grasses surrounding them did due in part to the winds bringing them together.

And he does, he does lean over, bringing himself closer and closer yet to the prince -- his prince. Close enough to share the same breath, but that's where he brings it to a stop, brings himself to a stop.

❝ .......... ❞

He straightens his back out, leaning back once again to gaze upon the sky that spread endlessly above them. Somewhere out there was their enemy; ones that would soon take away these peaceful times they shared in blissful, ignorant comfort.

When that happened, when the war was officially declared, would they be able to return to this place? He couldn't help but wonder.

…he ultimately decides that no, they would never be able to return here, not if either of them were to perish in the coming days.

It was more than enough to steel his spirit.

On that front; Zuwijo wanted to bring this war to an end, before it even had the chance to begin.

He wanted to safeguard this place, his home, his prince. So that they could return here. So that he could one day do what he lacked the resolve to do what he had wished he'd done today.

To meet him the same way the flowers and the grasses did, with the push of the wind against his back to guide him forward. To bring them together.

But they were here for now. And for now he'd allow the prince another moment or two to rest. But any longer and he fears they wouldn't make it back in time for supper…….. Well, not before his legs regained feeling, that was. -