august
He takes the other man’s study of him as open invitation to do the same, especially when the stranger replies with a grin present in both his tone and on his lips. “I’m afraid not,” August answers, and makes his shrug wistful as he turns away from those glinting green eyes and the jewels that match them, making music like wind-chimes against the bay’s antlers. “Mine isn’t due until tomorrow.” The golden boy can’t keep his gaze away for long, though; he’s already looking slant-ways through silver lashes, and he shakes his head with a soft laugh when the man continues.
So soon after running, August isn’t quite ready to be still; he shifts where he stands, turning back toward the pegasus, the lake spread silent and silver as a mirror beyond them. “Enlightened? There’s your first mistake. Such a look is never useful for your own insight - only to prompt in the watcher a burning desire to know what you’re thinking, with such a musing and faraway stare.” His eyes, not so far off from the current color of the water, glint as he raises a brow and turns his voice to something almost sly. “And on that point, I must say, you need no further guidance from me.”
Indeed, he thinks, he wouldn’t be surprised if this man were meeting a lover. His height is impressive enough, made moreso by the kingly arch of antlers that crown him, decorated with trinkets not unlike Minya’s. Then there is the spring-green of his eyes, striking as the first green leaves against the last of the season’s snow, and the rich russet of his coat.
August has seen him before, he is sure of it now, but he has not noticed him. Now he does, and he will not forget a thing about him.
But it’s the name that makes his chin turn sharply and his ears prick forward. “Ah,” he says, and his smile shifts bright and malleable as gold. “A colleague mentioned meeting you.” Minya, a short time ago - though stories beginning with I met a man were no rarity for her. He wonders now if he prickly mood that evening had been because Septimus had jewels and antlers as grand as her own, though the dancer’s vanity is such that she likely hadn’t even bothered to compare.
He is likewise surprised to be recognized, though his smile doesn’t falter and he is quick to dip his head in a nod. “I’m August, and you are correct. Though if you’ve placed me so easily, our offerings aren’t as distracting as they ought to be.”
we drink the poison our minds pour for us
and wonder why we feel so sick
and wonder why we feel so sick
@
