TO TRAVEL ON AND TRAVEL LIGHT
to travel deep into the night
There is something like concern in his stare, when their eyes meet again – or perhaps curiosity. (More likely that particular in-between that comes from being curious about something that may well be dangerous, and far more dangerous than you.) Interesting, the man says, and Septimus is not sure if he means it or not. He has no idea how to read his tone. He barely knows how to read his expression, or his posture, beyond that it strikes him as distinctly irritated.
Let’s go find it, then, he says, then, and Septimus’s head swivels around to stare at him intently, his surprise evident. After a moment, a smile pulls at his dark lips; they tick upwards just far enough to reveal the canine points of his teeth.
“What-“
There is a gleam in his green eyes that borders on childlike glee. “Really?” he asks, as though he cannot quite believe what he’s hearing; Septimus is so very unaccustomed to anyone else expressing any kind of enthusiasm in his work. (They are always trying to tell him that the habits of beetles are boring, or that there is no point to studying moss or sharks. He supposes that a possibly-intelligent thing would be more interesting to a passing stranger than a the habits of a ladybug or the growth of an oak tree, but it doesn’t quell his surprise entirely.) Even if his enthusiasm comes across as more begrudging than anything, he won’t turn down the offer of help.
(Least of all now – least of all when he is so terribly, terribly desperate to find those creatures that are so like-him.)
He doesn’t actually give him much time to answer; his Really? is more rhetorical than genuine question. “Thank you,” he says, sincerely, and immediately strides forward into the woods, barely sparing a glance over his shoulder to see if the other man follows. He doesn’t know where the faerie-creature has gone, now that it disappeared, but it seems most logical to assume that it went in the direction it was going before it flickered out of existence. It was the only idea he had to go off of, for the moment.
And for a moment, he is, like a proper field researcher, silent. A clever naturalist knew better than to make too much noise, and Septimus had never been anything short of clever. It is certainly not his fae curiosity that inspires him to speak, and it is certainly not anything scientific.
But he has always been a social creature. He will take it as a sign of that - and not his growing mortality, his growing need for intimacy – that the silence between them quickly grows frustrating. He debates. He is sure that he has seen this stranger before, and, surely, it must be rude to go adventuring without introducing himself properly. If he has seen him before, and he is from Delumine, as he thinks that he is, all the better.
“I think I’ve seen you,” he decides, finally, “in Delumine. I’m Septimus – and you are?”
@Andras || <3
"Speech!"
to travel deep into the night
There is something like concern in his stare, when their eyes meet again – or perhaps curiosity. (More likely that particular in-between that comes from being curious about something that may well be dangerous, and far more dangerous than you.) Interesting, the man says, and Septimus is not sure if he means it or not. He has no idea how to read his tone. He barely knows how to read his expression, or his posture, beyond that it strikes him as distinctly irritated.
Let’s go find it, then, he says, then, and Septimus’s head swivels around to stare at him intently, his surprise evident. After a moment, a smile pulls at his dark lips; they tick upwards just far enough to reveal the canine points of his teeth.
“What-“
There is a gleam in his green eyes that borders on childlike glee. “Really?” he asks, as though he cannot quite believe what he’s hearing; Septimus is so very unaccustomed to anyone else expressing any kind of enthusiasm in his work. (They are always trying to tell him that the habits of beetles are boring, or that there is no point to studying moss or sharks. He supposes that a possibly-intelligent thing would be more interesting to a passing stranger than a the habits of a ladybug or the growth of an oak tree, but it doesn’t quell his surprise entirely.) Even if his enthusiasm comes across as more begrudging than anything, he won’t turn down the offer of help.
(Least of all now – least of all when he is so terribly, terribly desperate to find those creatures that are so like-him.)
He doesn’t actually give him much time to answer; his Really? is more rhetorical than genuine question. “Thank you,” he says, sincerely, and immediately strides forward into the woods, barely sparing a glance over his shoulder to see if the other man follows. He doesn’t know where the faerie-creature has gone, now that it disappeared, but it seems most logical to assume that it went in the direction it was going before it flickered out of existence. It was the only idea he had to go off of, for the moment.
And for a moment, he is, like a proper field researcher, silent. A clever naturalist knew better than to make too much noise, and Septimus had never been anything short of clever. It is certainly not his fae curiosity that inspires him to speak, and it is certainly not anything scientific.
But he has always been a social creature. He will take it as a sign of that - and not his growing mortality, his growing need for intimacy – that the silence between them quickly grows frustrating. He debates. He is sure that he has seen this stranger before, and, surely, it must be rude to go adventuring without introducing himself properly. If he has seen him before, and he is from Delumine, as he thinks that he is, all the better.
“I think I’ve seen you,” he decides, finally, “in Delumine. I’m Septimus – and you are?”
@
"Speech!"
AND RARELY, IF THE WOOD ACCEPTS THE BLADE WITHOUT CONDITIONSthe two pieces keep their balance in spite of the blow❃please tag Septimus! contact is encouraged, short of violence
