The day, growing brighter, seems so wide open and limitless.
Varak. He wonders what it looks like. Is it a land of towering mountains and shorelines jagged as teeth? Is it green or grey, blue or gold or all of the above? How did Maerys get here and why, and why Delumine, and-- did she ever miss it, home, or was she one of those people who carried home in their heart? Delumine is all he's ever known of home, all he ever wants to know, and he isn't sure if he envies or pities her.
Neither, probably. Emotion was so much more complicated than that, wasn't it?
He has many more questions. Surely she can sense them-- maybe she can even see them, growing eagerly behind his silver-green eyes.
But before he can unload his questions, with a cleverness he found engaging, she quickly shifted topics from past to future, herself to him-- it was a little like swordplay, which he had never possessed a lick of skill or interest in, but far more fun for Mateo. He was good with his words, in a way that verged on silver-tongued, and so brightens as though she's performed a magic trick or challenged him to a dare.
Mateo does not take any time to reflect on the question. The answer is there, the answer is always there-- "I want to be a bard," like my father is something he's too old to be saying out loud, but out of habit he leaves a quiet space where those words once went. "And with just twelve notes unfurled," he sings this part, in a voice deeper, stronger, truer than his speaking voice. It is rich and full and completely lacking in hesitation. "lay bare all the truths of the world!" He shuffles his feet in a small dance, dramatically unfurling his wings at the end and spreading the tips of his feathers like fingers. Magic beyond his control picks up the jig and dances to it in its own strange way, filling the air with the scent of fresh-cracked hazelnuts.
He maintains the pose for one long, silent, dramatic moment and then he relaxes once more into the small, simple, exceedingly curious black-winged stallion, dime a dozen. When he laughs he sounds like a boy. When he speaks, further still. "But the gods have fated me to live my life as a scribe, for all the blood leaves my head and the air my chest when I stand in front of a crowd." Even singing in front of Maerys was not terribly comfortable... but he had sensed, somehow, the way she reached deep into herself to answer him true, and some pure part of himself responded in kind.
- - -
@Maerys so sorry for the wait! she is so wonderful <3
