In the wake of his awkward blunder, which he will be painstakingly reliving over and over again for weeks to come, the air is heavy with both finality and uncertainty. Neither of these are comfortable for the boy, as he was often referred to-- so often that he came to think of himself by that title as well. It felt... safe, to have a nickname like that. A boy was always the product of someone else's choices. A boy could get himself into trouble and right back out with the innocent widening of the eyes.
And a boy could very easily lead the life he lived. See, life had always been simple for Mateo. In part because of his buoyant nature, but mostly due to circumstance. It was not that he shirked his duties so much as he never had major responsibilities to begin with. Most days he was up before the sun to partake in morning devotionals, either in the temple with the monks or (more and more often) in the sky by himself. Then throughout the day he was typically at the library scribing. He loved writing, although not as much as he loved singing (he was always very generous with the word love, and thought everyone ought to be) and so the work was deeply satisfying to him. Evenings were his to spend freely, and that was a very sacred time which was mainly devoted to music, mischief, and socializing.
So.
Beneath the heavy weight of that expectant air, Mateo's mind is racing. What does it really mean to be the regent's eyes and ears? He decides that he must send letters, regularly, and probably frequent the tavern more often... for professional reasons, of course, it being the most lucrative place for those with information to sell. But what about the bigger issues? What if Somnus falls ill, or the murderer attacks again, or Solterra turns their violent sights to Dawn, for some cockeyed reason?
What if I fail? He wonders. It feels as though there is a great weight on his shoulders-- and it is not comfortable. He was built for lightness and speed and flight.
"When will you be back?" He asks finally, sensing that their conversation is closing, knowing that the many other questions he has will go unanswered. (why are you going, when are you going, does Somnus know, of course he knows does anyone else know, are you going alone) And even as he asks the question, he thinks he knows the answer-- I don't know
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@Ipomoea <3 <3 Po is so sweet and sad ;_;
