She finds him in the small courtyard on the side of the estate, where the pine trees create a quiet alcove. Aeneas kneels before the small statue of Vespera at the center of the courtyard, where the sunlight streaks him in the slender shadows of pine needles. In his mind he repeats the virtues of Terrastella, a sort of mantra: Modesty. Empathy. Caution. They are words one of the priests told him to recite, again and again, to encourage control of his magic. However, Aeneas finds the task difficult this morning—his attention keeps straying to other thoughts. He thinks of Elliana, and how he would like to take her to the tulip festival—and he thinks of his mother, and how he cannot stand how sad she has been. Her sadness feels more unbearable than his own. Aeneas thinks, also, of how loud the birds are in the courtyard, and how if the priests truly want him to meditate, they should let him go elsewhere, where its quiet—
Aeneas!
He jumps, surprised. Aeneas is often the early riser of the two, and did not expect to see her until breakfast—but he turns around, grateful for a reprieve from the chore. He smiles. “Hilde!” It does not take much encouragement for Aeneas to abandon his position of prayer and trot to where she stands at the opening of the estate. “You’re up awful early,” he teases, and snaps the tip of his wing playfully at her haunch. “Where you looking for me?”
Aeneas casts a glance over his shoulder, distastefully, to the courtyard he spends far too much time in. "Please," he whispers, in the voice of a conspirator. "Save me, Hilde. Let's go do something fun."
Aeneas!
He jumps, surprised. Aeneas is often the early riser of the two, and did not expect to see her until breakfast—but he turns around, grateful for a reprieve from the chore. He smiles. “Hilde!” It does not take much encouragement for Aeneas to abandon his position of prayer and trot to where she stands at the opening of the estate. “You’re up awful early,” he teases, and snaps the tip of his wing playfully at her haunch. “Where you looking for me?”
Aeneas casts a glance over his shoulder, distastefully, to the courtyard he spends far too much time in. "Please," he whispers, in the voice of a conspirator. "Save me, Hilde. Let's go do something fun."
i am throwing my anchor back into the seas of history, men who give birth to their children in the middle of a cold night, women who go to war with daggers in their belts
