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I return his halcyon expression with a smile of my own, though my sooty, charcoal lips never fully disunite. Instead the corners bend upward to form a near-perfect tilt of concavity, a small sliver of my stained, ivory teeth barely visible. "This way," I say as I make an ushering gesture with my head and contentedly angle my gangly form in the direction of where I'd last seen our Sultana. I wonder idly what counsel Midas seeks from her, but I refrain from asking. After all, it really isn't much of my business what matters are to be discussed between a General and his leader. I suppose father taught me that, sort of.
I notice that Midas' expression mirrors my own when I mention that Cirrus has also noticed my mother's absence. His following words give me a bit of hope. "Thanks--" I aver genuinely. "for everything, Midas. You've always been good to my sister and me, mother, too." The tone of my voice may be filled with the lightness of youth, but my words are sincere and mature. "My father always spoke highly of you," I add, beaming with loving pride as I mention that noble stallion whose blood courses through my veins. My heritage is truly something to be proud of. Azulee
they want rain without thunder and lightning |
table by whit
