22 Ymiden 713
Something about it felt wrong to Thys, but then again - this was a last resort. It was a rotation of power they had done before. An agreement had been reached, as well as an understanding, and that was what lead to the mortal born standing in front of the tavern on that cool evening. But for once, it wasn’t Bae or Thys in control. They’d traded off with the last one they’d - well, more of it was Thys - wanted to.
Adora stared up at the chipped wood of the door. It was not apprehension that held her back, but anticipation. It had not been long since the mortal born had been given a newfound freedom. (Or maybe it had, and she was a lot worse at documenting time with her long sleeping cycles.) Whatever the case, she was savoring thhe moment. And maybe plan things out a little more. But she felt it from the crown of her head to the tips of her toes; something would be gained from all this.
It was with that thought in mind that she pushed the door open.
Their searching had brought them here on a hunch. There was a man who knew the mortal born’s mother and maybe he would have the answers. Adora simply had to find him, like she’d promised. Maybe, if she was lucky, the man would lead her right to their father and all would be well. Then, they would have only to hear an explanation.
It wasn’t so much a hush that greeted her when she entered than a momentary quiet that didn’t even last a trill. The interior didn’t afford much room to sit, and the fireplace made it far too warm. Or was it nervous? She offered a tentative smile to those that met her gaze, but they didn’t return it. They turned away to resume their talks and her smile deflated. Her stomach churned as she considered the possibility of not making good on her promise. Her fingers tingled and her chest burneed - but there was one gaze that had not left her.
If she had not panicked, she would have missed it. The quick turn of his face as he attempted to look away in time. But he hadn’t been fast enough. And her smile was back, crooked and toothy as she approached with only one target in mind. The man had hair as curly as a lamb’s, but a face marred by age. Or experience. Or mourning. In the deepest part of her mind, she wondered if he’d always been so forlorn.
“You knew my mother.”
She dropped down into the chair opposite him. Drinking alone; did that prove he was sad, or did he just not like people? Didn’t matter to her, though. That was irrelevant to what she wanted to know. He didn’t respond at first, just stared at her. Then, “Yes.”
Her smile widened. Now this was a start.
Adora stared up at the chipped wood of the door. It was not apprehension that held her back, but anticipation. It had not been long since the mortal born had been given a newfound freedom. (Or maybe it had, and she was a lot worse at documenting time with her long sleeping cycles.) Whatever the case, she was savoring thhe moment. And maybe plan things out a little more. But she felt it from the crown of her head to the tips of her toes; something would be gained from all this.
It was with that thought in mind that she pushed the door open.
Their searching had brought them here on a hunch. There was a man who knew the mortal born’s mother and maybe he would have the answers. Adora simply had to find him, like she’d promised. Maybe, if she was lucky, the man would lead her right to their father and all would be well. Then, they would have only to hear an explanation.
It wasn’t so much a hush that greeted her when she entered than a momentary quiet that didn’t even last a trill. The interior didn’t afford much room to sit, and the fireplace made it far too warm. Or was it nervous? She offered a tentative smile to those that met her gaze, but they didn’t return it. They turned away to resume their talks and her smile deflated. Her stomach churned as she considered the possibility of not making good on her promise. Her fingers tingled and her chest burneed - but there was one gaze that had not left her.
If she had not panicked, she would have missed it. The quick turn of his face as he attempted to look away in time. But he hadn’t been fast enough. And her smile was back, crooked and toothy as she approached with only one target in mind. The man had hair as curly as a lamb’s, but a face marred by age. Or experience. Or mourning. In the deepest part of her mind, she wondered if he’d always been so forlorn.
“You knew my mother.”
She dropped down into the chair opposite him. Drinking alone; did that prove he was sad, or did he just not like people? Didn’t matter to her, though. That was irrelevant to what she wanted to know. He didn’t respond at first, just stared at her. Then, “Yes.”
Her smile widened. Now this was a start.