Sinric the Wanderer (
thewidewideworld) wrote in
milliways_bar2015-10-05 08:53 pm
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Sinric is out in the garden this morning, walking in the soft grass.
Or pacing.
Possibility practicing some complex dance.
He mutters to himself as he moves from spot to spot, tracing some unseen pattern. He stops here and there to raise his eyes before turning and moving again, still seemingly talking to himself.
{ooc: open and always botherable but slowtime make kick in unexpected.}
Or pacing.
Possibility practicing some complex dance.
He mutters to himself as he moves from spot to spot, tracing some unseen pattern. He stops here and there to raise his eyes before turning and moving again, still seemingly talking to himself.
{ooc: open and always botherable but slowtime make kick in unexpected.}

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That's all right. Athelstan would hate to interrupt him before he's finished, and it's something worth watching.
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Stops.
With a stomp of his foot he storms over to where a small book is laying on top of his cloak. He opens to a page, his lips moving as he corrects himself. Only then does he notice Athelstan.
He smiles and gestures for permission to join him.
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"Of course", he says with a smile. "And you can tell me what you're practising."
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"Is it long?" Athelstan asks. "Or is the problem the language?"
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"It likely does." He reads down the Greek side, his Arabic being poor at best. "Would it help if I read it out to you, so you can learn the timing?"
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Athelstan lifts the book and starts to read in fluent Greek.
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Athelstan glances up from time to time at natural breaks in the poem, watching Sinric move.
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They get to the end together and Sinric sweeps a deep bow, going down the one knee in the deep grass.
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Athelstan sets the book down in his lap to applaud, smiling slightly.
...what, there should be applause.
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He rests his head on Athelstan's shoulder. "I will get this right!"
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"You will", Athelstan says with confidence, leaning his cheek against the top of Sinric's head. "And you can take as much time as you like here to perfect it."
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He grins.
"They'll think it was all natural talent."
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Athelstan strokes his hair.
"Well, with the help of Milliways, you can."
If there is a next time, he doesn't say, before Bulgaria.
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He turns to his his face in Athelstan's tunic, trying to focus on the warm sun and the feeling of Athelstan's hand in his hair. "I hope I will always have Milliways. I might be lost without it."
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"You're strong, my Sinric", Athelstan says softly. "No less because you needed people in your darkest hour."
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"Because", is the quiet answer, "in that week, you knew he was somewhere waiting for your return. But over your lifetime, he'll never leave you."
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