"The pleasure is mine." He returned easily, the smile that was upon his lips and cheeks, easily finding its way to his eyes. Thèo listened with a genuine curiosity as the primal, but beautiful filly, answered his question. At her mention of Sohalia, the boy made a small O with his lips, which gradually moved to more of an ah shape. Of course she was Sohalia's daughter. He might have assumed as much if given the time to think about it. Who else on these sands would have created a child that was both graceful without appearing as though she would break?
Thèo tried to make his reaction to Vinati's next sentence as masked as possible, but he was still just a boy, for all of his charm and curiousity. His cheeks remained where they were, holding the smile on his face, but the light in his eyes had gone out entirely, drowned by a sort of meloncholy that made his youthful green eyes look entirely too old.
"Ah-" He tried to begin, groping for any sound to try and articulate what it was he was feeling. "No, you are quite correct. I do not know the Wildfire. He died shortly before my birth." He said, trying to get a hold of the sudden uprising of sadness that pressed down on his shoulders. Despite this, the light around him actually seemed to intensify. Unlike his talk with Iskra where the boys simply left their sadness behind and dove right into the playfulness that brought them together, this sadness almost seemed comfortable in Vinati's presence.
Perhaps that was because he know knew her to be his sister. But even that realized had a hard time finding its way onto the smile that was still on his lips. "But what you say is good news-' He continued, swallowing and raising his eyes to find hers once again. "For although I did not know the Wildfire, he was my Father too." Unlike the gruff articulations of many of Gaucho's children, Thèo's pronunciation was soft, befitting the strange accent he bore. "Which makes you not just a wonderful interruption to my day, but my sister as well."
Sunlight glittered down upon the boy, drenching him a warm light, that finally did manage to reach his eyes once again.
mathèo
The flames are getting higher - in effigy.
Burning down the bridges of my memory
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