in sunshine and in shadow
There is a part of him that wants to ask his friend to stay, a part of him greedy for more time, for more of the steadying presence of the grey.
But both of them are needed, he knows, and Asterion buries his selfishness down with his uncertainty and his doubt and his strange breed of loneliness.
He is surprised, at first, by the sudden embrace Eik gives him; it is such an unexpected gift. But before the other pulls away Asterion presses his cheek to the smooth plane of his shoulder, breathes a warm breath against the winter-long coat that still smells of woodsmoke.
He wonders if this is what it is like to have a brother, or a father, or the kind of friend that lasts.
“Yes,” he answers when Eik steps away, as though the time of their next meeting is already decided. Oh, how fiercely glad he is of this friendship, how grateful. Maybe it is strange (maybe he is wrong), but it feels as steady as anything he has. “Travel well,” he tells the pale man, “and may you find shade when you need it.”
He watches his friend go until he can see him no more, and the sun echoes the warmth of Eik’s embrace.
And then, at last, he turns back toward the palace, wide doors yawning wide and dark as a mouth, and goes to learn what help he might give this home of his.
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