The half-child, his question asked, prepares himself for beratement or worse. It is in his nature to assume that nobody likes him until he changes their mind; certainly he has done nothing to change her mind with his questions and nervous demeanor. But in contrast to the long time it took him to decide on his words and then voice them, the pretty white mare has an answer for him right away. The Sun God is never forgotten, but Adelric pays devout attention to Ophelia as she speaks, ears fixated only on her. It seems to him, for some reason, that her words are the most important thing he has ever heard. He must know what they are, drink them in, remember them... He does not even know her, but knowing that they share something in common makes him believe that she must be trustworthy. Perhaps the cruel world will change this about him someday, but for now he is still young of heart and mind.

Her lesson on genetics wanders into his thoughtful mind and he begins to wonder sees the images in his head as she speaks. Her father, with either crimson or blue eyes (he does not know)- her sister with a complete set of only one color. Her nephew and daughter, also with same colored eyes. But then she speaks of dual blood and he is almost shocked. Her, so perfect and whole as she seems on the outside, is as broken as he is on the inside? Or at least he thinks so. Young as he is, he knows nothing of shattered hearts and shattered souls but he thinks he does because he feels so alone. Her statement that they are simply different just makes him frown. He does not want to be different. He wants to be liked, to be accepted... to be different is to be outcast and pushed aside. This is one thing he has learned already in his young life.

But then she asks him a question in return and he shifts uncomfortably. To speak of his failures, his shortcomings, would shatter whatever image she has in her head of him that makes her think he is whole and brave- he is neither. Nor does he know what implications having an egg has- he knows not what he carries. Still, he cannot help but answer her. He is only a child and he has been asked a question- he must respond. “My father, I think it was my father, was at birth but I have never seen him again. One of my mothers left me and took one of my sisters. My other mother is sad all of the time. My sister tolerates me, but I do not think she actually likes me and my mother brought home a new sister that she found somewhere in a field.” He has always considered Delinne one of his mothers- she was there at his birth after all. “It must be me that makes these things happen, so I need to fix myself.” he concludes gravely. He is too young to have started shouldering the troubles of the world, but his age has not stopped him.

There are many more troubles he has shouldered as well and does not speak of. Even her sigh, as she continues to speak, makes him feel like he has done something wrong. She is sad because she has had to explain something to him, though he is very interested in her words. Truth be told he walks as many lines as Ophelia does, between two mutually exclusive ideas, but he is too young to have learned to be comfortable in the gray area that she soon assures him exists. And though he has a thoughtful mind, predisposed to wander in thought and categorization, everything she has said has bigger implications than he can imagine at this moment. He has no worthy or thought-provoking response, so instead he says what comes to mind- “My mother has no horn.”

He does not know if it is relevant, or necessary, but maybe it will make her like him some more as he is still convinced she does not care for him as more than an inconvenience in her life. “Thank you,” he says then, but he is distracted now, trying to ponder and consider, wavering back and forth between ideas and wondering what it would be like to stand in this gray area she speaks of instead of either side. It is much to consider for a child his age, but he has all the time in the world and is willing to entertain the ideas. With a final nod to the alabaster queen and the Sun God over her shoulder, he gathers his egg back up in the mossy sling and begins to totter off. He does not want to waste more of her time nor upset her any more with her presence, so he retreats to whence he came, prepared to lie in the shadows and consider what he has heard.

Adelric