“No worries, friend.” He snorts. “Whoever said that sounds like a right twat.” Fighting words came so much easier when the recipient was not present.
The other man chuckles. Mateo likes the sound, deep and bubbling. “Of course, peace is a good thing,” Mateo agrees. He’s thinking of his morning routine. Every day, except the wet ones, he’s in the sky. He gets an early start, before the heavens begin the slow blushing dance of sunrise. This is how he greets the morning: carving broad, black-winged circles in the predawn indigo, often humming a tune or singing (read:hollering) to the wind. It is the peaceful foundation to days that usually (sometimes by his own mischief but more often by sheer accident) turn wild. “It’s all about balance, I think. A little bit of peace, a little bit of chaos,” he bobs his head, weighing the two. “Gotta keep things interesting, but not too out of control.”
Mateo recognized that not everyone shared his appetite for fine food, drink, and company. And sometimes his taste was admittedly not-so fine-- it was, once again, all about balance. But he respected the choices of others, and so he does not skip a beat when Sol mentions that he does not drink alcohol.
“Excellent. I know a place, just past the Olivine Temple, where they make the best cider in Novus!” Hard and not, for everyone’s taste.
As they make their way to the library and dusk thickens in the forest, the trees are full of the sound of conversation, interrupted from time to time by two types of laughter: one bright and fresh as spring, the other low and bubbling like a brook.
- - -
@Sol Bestiam Psh, no insult taken!! Gonna close this here. So so sorry for the wait and quality, I'm terrible with closers x_x Thank you for the lovely thread, I'd love to have another sometime! <3
