So enamored by what he has found, his mind twisting and whirling with ideas and thoughts and ideals, the child hardly notices his friend approaching on the horizon. Instead, his bi-hued eyes focus intently on the needle that bobs in the air. Go left, he commands and the syringe obliges. The movement is jerky, unpracticed, unsteady. Right, he thinks then, and the syringe again obliges, swaying right while it’s suture tail dangles and sways in the wind. Curious, he thinks, with brow furrowed in thought and contemplation. Can it make more complicated movements? Can it dance and swirl if he thinks in motions, instead of words? Can it dance intricately through the air, instead of jerkily? And what happens if it touches flesh? Will it dance so easily, or will he have to think harder and more thoroughly? Will he feel pressure in his mind if he tries? So many questions, and no answers to be had yet. He imagines it will hurt, to have the needle pressed through flesh, so he will not try on himself or Tobias. Another willing (or perhaps unwilling) participant will have to be found.

Nevertheless, his thoughts and considerations are put on hold when a familiar voice calls out. Tobias, too, withdraws his gaze from the needle and turns his gaze to Erebos. A happy, but reserved, bleat passes his lips in greeting. He has always enjoyed the macabre prince, a friend who was there right from the moment of his birth. Silently, the half-child accepts the words of the prince, bi-hued gaze glancing back to the needle as Erebos offers his query. “I think it’s for sewing flesh,” he answers plainly. Scientific, straight-forward, he does not dance or skirt around the issues. “I found it here in the bush. I dreamed of one, once.” Pursing his lips and screwing them to the side, he wonders if he should place any value in dreams, or if it is only coincidence that he has done so. Another question to be pondered, perhaps. But not now.

“What were you going to tell me?” he urges then, mind whirling with ideas on how he should use this gift he has found, but not willing to ignore his friends excitement. For any other, he surely would have just turned and walked away, or perhaps offered them a visual demo on their own flesh of what the object did. But Erebos? Never the prince- not the only friend he has in this world. The cervid, on the other hand, scans the horizon for sight of the filly Aithniel. He knows that the half-child does not particularly enjoy her company, if only for the reminder that the half-child has had to forsake his mother and his history but Aithniel can walk freely with wings through the land. What if he sees her? The cerndyr does not know, but he watches anyways, ever-faithful to the child that has accompanied him through life and given him so much.

Adelric

We only have what we give.