august
—« I was happy, the sun was high. I had enough. »
"N
aturally,” he says, a generic pleasantry, though in all honesty August isn’t sure he’s ever met anyone from Terrastella. Oh, certainly they’d come through the Scarab, and doubtlessly he’s made smalltalk with horses from Dusk in the Night Markets or along the harbor, but he had never really paid much attention to their neighbors to the west. Probably he was underrating them through his disregard, but really it was a point in their favor - better than his substantially thornier thoughts regarding Solterrans. He’s a little surprised when she picks a flower, but dips his head gamely that she might place it, feeling the brush of her touch light as swallow’s wing. Before he can thank her, she continues speaking, and his silver eyes find the bright blue of hers. “I do at that.” The palomino’s smile then is slim and swift; he does, indeed, have days’ worth of stories, though not all of them fit for polite company. And even the memory of those sears something deep within him, the bits of August-who-was.
“Would you prefer to hear about the man who gambled away his family’s estate? We had to have him followed to make sure he didn’t end up in the harbor that night - whether on his own terms, or his wife’s.” He snorts, remembering how Aghavni and Minya, in rare agreement, had sided with the wife on that one.
“Ah, or there was the time a local merchant accused the last regime’s captain of the guard of cheating at a game of liar’s dice - we tried not to make a habit of interfering, but there was going to be a Denoctian bloodbath if we didn’t separate the gentlemen. ‘Course, he was cheating,” August adds in an afterthought, with a twitch of his lips.
