This was a development. Growth? Could he count this toward them marching into a friendship of sorts? Thysbae perked up further with each added-on sentence, leaning forward to catch each syllable. It was the most he’d heard from anyone of Lysanrin birth, and more still that didn’t have Monteliyet attached to their name.
But at the mention of Florian’s partner, Thysbae’s brows furrowed. He didn’t think he knew someone with that title. A commander. An airship. “This One has never met your Commander Angevin, but he will be on the lookout.” Would it be appropriate to salute? He decided against it. He would look too eager, more excitable than he already was. A minute bounce in his seat, the wood creaking with his weight. His tail, even, knocked against the chair.
“Dreyfus does! This One heard once that most mages with the Order do, so he supposed this is true now.” He nodded, as if that were a solidified fact. To him i certainly was. His own questions bubbled up on his tongue, but he supposed he’d used his turn up in asking about the horn. He would need to be patient, wait for it to be his moment to slew inquiries the other’s way.
No, Thysbae didn’t live around here. He was sure that maybe, at one time, he might have, but his memories were confined to a singular house — nay, hovel — and not much else. The Order had taken from those four walls of limb and placed him in one of brick. At least the wood one had been warm. He sniffed, took another sip of his almost forgotten glass of water.
“The Monteliyets took This One in when he was assigned to Lord Dreyfus.” The day had been...memorable, to say the least. “The family is kind; good to This One.” It was almost a giggle, just shy of a chuckle. An aborted sound that seemed more schooled than it ought to be. A short hiccup and then he continued. “Although, This One thinks they sometimes still mistake him for a child. Or maybe that’s how they’re supposed to care for this one.”
Maybe this was some trudge toward friendship. No, a gallop, perhaps. “You should come visit. This One can make the arrangements.”
But at the mention of Florian’s partner, Thysbae’s brows furrowed. He didn’t think he knew someone with that title. A commander. An airship. “This One has never met your Commander Angevin, but he will be on the lookout.” Would it be appropriate to salute? He decided against it. He would look too eager, more excitable than he already was. A minute bounce in his seat, the wood creaking with his weight. His tail, even, knocked against the chair.
“Dreyfus does! This One heard once that most mages with the Order do, so he supposed this is true now.” He nodded, as if that were a solidified fact. To him i certainly was. His own questions bubbled up on his tongue, but he supposed he’d used his turn up in asking about the horn. He would need to be patient, wait for it to be his moment to slew inquiries the other’s way.
No, Thysbae didn’t live around here. He was sure that maybe, at one time, he might have, but his memories were confined to a singular house — nay, hovel — and not much else. The Order had taken from those four walls of limb and placed him in one of brick. At least the wood one had been warm. He sniffed, took another sip of his almost forgotten glass of water.
“The Monteliyets took This One in when he was assigned to Lord Dreyfus.” The day had been...memorable, to say the least. “The family is kind; good to This One.” It was almost a giggle, just shy of a chuckle. An aborted sound that seemed more schooled than it ought to be. A short hiccup and then he continued. “Although, This One thinks they sometimes still mistake him for a child. Or maybe that’s how they’re supposed to care for this one.”
Maybe this was some trudge toward friendship. No, a gallop, perhaps. “You should come visit. This One can make the arrangements.”
