PM to join A Bit Bookish (Davor Aveloz)

[Atticus Leslie]

27, Spring, 516

"Seeing is awful tonight..." Atticus murmured to himself, his notebook in his lap and an ink stick in his hand, but sadly the pages were desolate of thought.

Atticus had been thinking over the past few days about the cosmos, particularly that what is accepted as fact may require more investigation than he had initially thought. In particular, he had always accepted that light works and simply is, but recently he had began wondering about light. He has been wondering if objects emitted light, or if eyes sent something out to detect things rather to receiving messages in the form of light. It was truly boggling to think about, and really a difficult thing to comprehend or work with at all. He had been considering how things like Syna shown so brightly, as well. It was a given, yes, that some things were inherently brighter than others, but why? Was it something that the objects themselves emitted? Reflected? Something Atticus perceived as bright due to his own biological method of collecting light?

These questions were what lead him to Alaheas garden that evening. Often it was a good place to view the skies. On good nights, that was. Tonight? Maybe not. Cloud coverage was okay, thin enough to see the brightest stars through but not more detailed pictures. Seeing was awful. Every single star even remotely near the horizons twinkled in the sky. It was so difficult to see the small dots near them that Atticus had mostly given up on the task.

He flipped his notebook to the page that contained the star maps of the Spring season, studying the dots and lines he had drew himself and comparing it to the sky with somewhat disappointing results. Atticus sighed in contempt; he loved what he did more than anything else but it got tiresome and he sometimes wished he had more than just a single lifetime to study.

The way things have been going lately it may take more than one lifetime... he thought to himself, sighing once more and studying the twinkling spots, his ink stick resting lightly on his lip.

He squinted his eyes at them. What caused the twinkling? Why on some days rather to others? His eyes, glued to the horizon, strained to see past the enigma. Maybe he couldn't, he thought. Maybe it was something with Mizahar that was causing the strange occurrence.

Atticus' brow furrowed. If this were true it could mean a plethora of things are true. Including that light must travel through something to disorient it and cause the twinkling effect he saw. And since all the stars above were suns, just like Syna, they would have to be very far away for such a big thing to appear so small in the sky... Too far away for information to be collected by sending something out.

Atticus gasped in delight and slammed his journal, moving around the area to get a better view of the horizon over the ocean.

"Yes!" he exclaimed, throwing his arms slightly outwards and accidentally dropping his ink stick. Having very few and only one with him, he considered them a somewhat precious resource.

As he shuffled over to retrieve it, he accidentally kicked it even farther away into darker territory. Atticus rolled his eyes as he kneeled to his hands and his knees and began scrambling to retrieve his utensil.

[Davor Aveloz]

Lhavit was an interesting city.

No, that's not exactly what sprang to mind when Davor thought of his first month within the gem of Kalea. Yes, it was interesting, but it was also something more. Lively? Yes, but again not quite. Magical? From the way his brain was buzzing after drinking from that strange fountain the other day, Davor could confirm that firsthand. However, the blanket term wasn't accurate enough for the Symenestran's tastes.

Noisy?

Yes, absolutely. Whatever time of day, wherever one was, Davor felt that the sound of Lhavit was an all-consuming one. Coming from Kalinor, the sleepy city which hung underneath a mountain of stone, Davor was unused to the hustle-and-bustle that the shining metropolis offered. Its sound was hungry, it vied for your attention at every turn with an insatiable drive. At times, it paralyzed the youth with just its weight and volume of presence. Other days, he was mystified by its range of sound, the chilling lows coupled beautifully with heart-pounding highs. Honestly, it was overwhelming.

Which is what brought Davor to the Alheas Park in the dead of night. Here, where the colors of the grove flirted with each other and melded into surprising and strange hues, the boy had found the quiet he had sought for. Like an old friend, the steady silence washed over him; filled him with its empty embrace. A sigh of sharp relief escaped his his lips, and Davor breathed deep the noiseless air about him. Davor had always found it refreshing to be bathed in the absence of sound. It proved a respite, an oasis which gave his sense reprieve from the strangeness of the crystal land he found himself in.

However, Davor had no intention of spending the night reminiscing with his oldest friend. Smiling, soft and bright, the Symenestra patted the solid case which hung steadily by his side. Inside contained the boy's most prized possession, an elegantly crafted violin. He had not had much chance to play in recent days and he was worried that his skills might get rusty. Getting acclimatized to Lhavit had proved more difficult than imagined for the boy, especially with the less than favorable way some residents treated him.

Anger against his race aside, Davor had been yearning to play his mother's instrument for awhile now, but lacked the space and inspiration to do so. The confines of his apartment proved too restraining to play in, not to mention that there was little to play about besides the books and papers which littered the his living space. Here, however, in the midst of the resplendent colors which shimmered merrily through the air of the clearing he walked into, there proved plenty of both. Davor wandered a little further through the park, wanting to find somewhere a bit more secluded before he began playing. He stumbled onto a clearing which gave open viewing to the night sky, a living painting of astounding proportions which hung overhead. Davor's breath caught a little as he stared upward, taking in the sea of black speckled with sparkling islands of white. The Symenestran had grown up in the caved city of Kalinor, so even as the lights above were obscured by wayfaring clouds, to Davor it appeared like miracle hidden among the mundane. Here, separated from the bluster of the city, the stars shone like jewels hung in a smokey portrait. Here, there was inspiration a plenty.

Davor set down his violin case, preparing to unpack the instrument from its case, when something else caught his wandering eye. A book, simple enough in appearance, sat idly on a stump nearby. His curiosity piqued, Davor picked his case back up and moved closer to the entreating object. Having grown up in a library, an open book was like an invitation to the youth, and this one proved no different. His black nails flipped idly through the filled pages, the boy trying to piece together what subject was being discussed.

It appeared to be filled with maps of some kind, but none that Davor had ever seen in the Cribellum. There was no compass rose, nor any identifying landmass, only dots and lines which formed strange, deformed pictures. Perhaps some terms on the page would help? The word constellation jumped out at him, but its meaning escaped the youth. His face screwed up in concentration, puzzling out what the words and pictures in the literature truly meant.

Star Chart?

Black eyebrows furrowing together, Davor rolled the words over in his mind. A map for the stars? Why would anyone need that? What purpose did it serve? Did that mean constellations had something to do with the stars?

Questions abounded in the youth's mind as he poured over the book in his small hands. He sat down to get more comfortable reading it, completely forgetting his original purpose for being in the park as curiosity consumed his waking thoughts.

[Atticus Leslie]

"Petch..." Atticus whispered quietly. For someone so accustiomed to using his sight, his eyes weren't as useful as he may wish they were in the dark. He scrambled around in the dark, searching for the ink stick under the brush.

Light travels, okay I know that he thought as he searched on the ground for his instrument. And it is not emitted by eyes... If it were maybe I could find my ink stick... he cursed.

He began to run over his thoughts as he searched, keeping himself occupied with a mental list of facts he had acquired over the evening. He knew that stars' light had to travel to reach us, and that something inherent with the planet that shifted their light. He wondered if the light Syna emitted did the same thing? If it were based on distance rather to the fact light may fluctuate as it is moving, that would mean a lot. How big is light? How fast does it go? How far away exactly is the source?

Atticus' thoughts were interrupted with the discovery of his ink stick. He picked it up, stood straight, and rested it on his lip as he pondered further the physics of the whole situation. Potentially, this could be groundbreaking information. Manipulation of light would be one step closer with a little bit of work. Science could quickly be approaching the capabilities of magic... Atticus couldn't decide if that would be really cool or incredibly dangerous.

Probably really cool.

Atticus mumbled his ideas quietly to himself as he shuffled, eyes on his feet and his ink stick lightly rested upon his lip, towards his seat to resume his studies. He sat down absentmindedly, focused intently on the discoveries he could possibly make. He knew he had to write it down before he forgot. He began writing it on the stone portion of the bench directly next to him, grasping blindly for the journal on the other side.

"Travels - One direction from one point? Originated from object - most likely" he scribbled down. As he finished his thought he made contact with a stranger's arm.

Slowly, Atticus lifted himself from the half-crouched position he was in to turn and look at the boy with a furrowed brow. Not taking his hand off the boy's arm, he pointed at the book in his lap - which looked suspiciously like Atticus' own journal that had just so happened to disappear - with an inquisitive look on his face.

[Davor Aveloz]

Eyeshine reflected off the ambient starlight as Davor hungrily flipped through the pages before him. His molten gold gaze ate its fill of words he didn't quite understand, of pictures that held no meaning to him. The boy yearned to solve the riddle of the journal which lay in his pale white hands, and the wonders of the world around him faded as he sank deeper and deeper into the depths of the words scratched onto the paper.

A single, obsidian fingernail traced the connection of one dot on the paper to another. Davor thought it strange, this practice of connecting points on a paper to create a greater whole. Why not just draw out what one wanted to, instead of forcing a picture on the chart? What purpose did that serve?

Smiling, soft and small, realization like fire burned bright in his mind. Ahh, the dots are different stars, and the connection is some sort of memory trick, he thought to himself as he peered at the images springing to life on the star chart. That must be what constellations are, collections of stars that are made into a picture to better remember them. I wonder if they have stories behind them? What tales could these pictures tell?

Davor would have laughed if he was able to. He so loved the feeling of discovering knowledge, of solving a puzzle or learning something interesting. It was part of the reason he left Kalinor a year earlier than most of his kin usually did. With his disability, the youth would never be able to aid his race in a Harvest, but at least he could gather knowledge that his race so desperately sought. Yes, the Symenestran boy was much more suited for the academic trials that came with a Gleaning, as opposed to the social intricacies required for his race's more notorious activity.

The youth pushed away such thoughts and dove back into the open pages of the book. Whomever the author was, they certainly had a passion for the topic, one that bled through the words on the page. Many of the concepts soared over Davor's head with the brief time he spent on the subject and the lack of background the boy had in the subject. While Kalinor did emphasize education and academia, astronomy was a topic that proved unnecessary to teach when the majority of one's population lived in a cave. Funny that, how one's environment shapes education.

However, Davor's train-of-thought proved derailed as a strange weight settled on the boy's arm. He attempted to shake whatever was on him off, but found that whatever had decided to land on him was unwilling to depart. With an annoyed sigh, the Symenestran youth closed the book on his lap and moved to brush off the intruding object, only to find his fingers brushing against another's. With startled urgency, Davor's luminescent eyes tore themselves from the odd sight of the stranger's hand to their owner's eyes. Molten gold orbs shot wide with surprise, and the youth spilled out of his seat due to sheer shock.

His rump now firmly placed on the rough earth which carpeted the Alhean Park, Davor felt his face darken out of embarrassment. How could he not have noticed someone else walk into the same spot he was? Sit on the very same bench he did? Maybe it had something to do with the water he drank yesterday? He had never been so absorbed in a book before, to the point where the rest of the world seemed to fade away as he walled himself in with words.

At least he doesn't seem angry, Davor consoled himself, taking in the other boy's inquisitive look. He seemed to be about the Symenestran's age, still carrying the trademark signs of youth. Hair a shaggy mixture of blonde and brown and bearing brown, near-black, eyes to match, he looked quite opposite compared to the non-human youth's dark hair and light eyes. His hand was outstretched, grasping, as if expecting something.

This is his book, the youth realized. His pale white hands were still grasping the rough brown of the journal, and as he gave the book back a slight tremor shot through his hand. Fear painted plain on his face, Davor wondered how the bigger boy would react at having his book unintentionally stolen. It was an accident! he protested internally. The Symenestran flinched preemptively as the journal left his hands. I really hope he isn't angry.

[Atticus Leslie]

Atticus, looking calmly at the boy from above, studied quietly his appearances. He seemed ghostly, and even in the dark it was easy to tell he was a bit peculiar in the physical sense. He seemed fairly average in height and stature for his age - which was approximately similar to that of Atticus' - but that was not what made the boy peculiar. WHat made him peculiar was the strikingness of his appearance otherwise. Save his stature and his height, almost nothing else about him was average. From the inky black hair to the what appeared to be golden eyes, this boy was a case for the ages.

Atticus had been trying to dissect the knowledge of things taken for granted, the things people didn't give second thought to, and yet directly in front of him sat the strangest little creature he had ever seen. Of course this was no indicator of how the boy actually was, but it certainly warranted curiosity from the young stargazer. Not only had he seemed to appear out of no where in so little time, but had somehow found one of the most important pages in Atticus' journal. He doubted the boy would do anything to it other than look, but regardless, Atticus fretted for his work.

Atticus took his journal back from the somewhat unconventional child with a slight courteous nod. Quickly, he scanned the page for any discrepancies, and upon finding none he flipped to a new page in the appropriate section of the journal. Glancing at the stone bench once every few ticks to refresh his memory on specific diction, he copied down his theories. Without taking his eyes off of his pages, he addressed the child first by patting the seat next to him, inviting him to pick himself off of the ground.

"So you uh... Interested? In, y'know," He said, gesturing towards the sky. He was sure the child had something to say on the matter, seeing as he seemed pretty entranced by Atticus' observations.

"You're not going to find much on that page, unfortunately." Atticus finished his writing and flipped back to the page of the child's intrigue. "These particular stars are Winter stars. They only come up around Winter time. We wouldn't see many of them now unless we were looking towards north. Straight up."

Atticus closed the journal and shoved his ink stick into his pocket. "Those are the stars that stay put. Mostly."

[Davor Aveloz]

After the boy had taken his journal back, a strained silence overtook the grove they sat in. He flipped through the pages with a focused look on his face, seeming to investigate every page for any sign of alteration. Davor kept his body tensed for escape and he felt the fearful shudders rocket down his spine again. He knew how many citizens in Lhavit felt about his race, and though the other boy had made no move to harm the Symenestra, Davor could not deny he still felt terrified at what action the youth might take.

This anxiety was nothing new Davor. Whether as a result of his disability or the constant taunting perpetrated by his peers during his childhood, he had always been an distressed kid in social situations. His foster father had always found that strange, how he kid bare his soul before a crowd of strangers when he was on stage, but put him one-on-one with those same strangers, and suddenly Davor was a bundle of nerves. Add in the latent racial tension inherent in the Crystal City, one that, from the stories at least, Davor was not sure was undeserved, and suddenly the Symenestran youth was jumping at shadows.

In an unexpected turn of events, the boy turned to Davor again, but instead of addressing him with anger he patted the seat next to him, a silent invitation to sit with the youth. Davor's eyebrows furrowed as he slowly picked himself off the ground. Confusion played itself apparent across the Symenestran boy's face before it was swiftly replaced by a small smile. Maybe he wants to be friends?

Davor pondered the boy's question briefly in his mind. Did he find the stars interesting? They were certainly beautiful, stunning even, and when he dove into the pages but a few moments ago he was held rapt in a world filled with classifications of the cosmos. It was rare for Davor to be so thoroughly entranced in a subject, but the youth couldn't decide whether it was because he found the subject interesting or if had something to do with the buzzing in his brain that he had felt ever since he drank out of that fountain a day prior. After a brief moments pause, Davor decided that, whatever the reason, he did enjoy studying the stars. He turned to the other boy, smiled broadly, and nodded his agreement.

The Symenestran peered over the boy's shoulder and looked with interest at the page he pointed at. So the stars change depending on the season? he noted to himself with surprise. He had no idea that the twinkling lights above them were such fickle creatures. Davor pulled at his journal and a charcoal pencil. and turning to the section he kept for Gleaning information. He made an immediate effort to record what he had learned so far about the heavens, absolutely sure that his city would be interested in hearing about a subject they rarely covered.

A question popped into his head, and Davor turned to back part of his book to scrawl it down. The youth found it helpful to separate his journal into two parts, one reserved for notes and the other sectioned off for interactions. It was a testament to the youth's shyness that the latter section had barely been used since his arrival into Lhavit.

"So stars move depending upon the season and the charts must be used to track their movements, right? But what purpose does that serve? Why track the stars at all? It's interesting, no doubt, but what effect does marking them on people's lives?" Davor scratched out onto the parchment in the back of his journal, his handwriting perhaps surprisingly neat. He began to hand the book over to the other boy, before bringing it back to himself quickly. He supposed that they should probably know each others names before their 'discussion' went any further.

"Oh, my name is Davor by the way. Nice to meet you," he hurriedly scrawled out, slightly embarrassed he had to introduce himself in such a roundabout way.

[Atticus Leslie]

After Atticus had spoken to him, careful to speak softly and gingerly to allow him comfort in a peculiar position, the child took Leslie's offer and sat on the bench next to him. He seemed rather sheepish now, for someone who moments ago had been brave enough to approach and read Atticus' personal findings journal. Now, however, it seemed as if he had trouble operating himself while around others. Atticus wondered absentmindedly if reading his journal was the more uncharacteristic action for the young one. It didn't much matter, he supposed.

Atticus, after speaking to the boy, noticed the absence of a response. Usually he wouldn't have been paying much mind, seeing as he was somewhat occupied with studies in that particular moment, so the silence rang for a fair amount of time. Atticus wasn't actually doing anything in that stretch of uninterrupted reticence, simply observing his own findings and writing additional notes in the margins about questions to be asked later, but regardless his attention was divided unfairly in favor of his work.

Peeking over the brim of his journal at the boy, he noticed the outstretched hand he had put out, offering his own journal. Softly, Atticus closed his own book and put it aside on the ground in favor of the boy's own. He took it into his lap, where Atticus' book was resting moments ago, careful of the binding and read.

"So stars move depending upon the season and the charts must be used to track their movements, right? But what purpose does that serve? Why track the stars at all? It's interesting, no doubt, but what effect does marking them on people's lives?" It read. Atticus thought for a moment before taking out his pen and writing in small font below the boy's inquiry on the sheet of paper.

"Yes, stars move depending on the season, but in relative to ground beneath us rotating. The only things that change are the stars near the horizons, our zeniths will remain the same. As far as I can tell, it's simply a byproduct of the planet rotating on its own, and doesn't actually produce a purpose other than some variation in our sky I guess. And I don't really know why I track the stars. It's kind of what I've always done. And it's the only thing I know where answers beget more and more questions. I really love it. Marking them, however, could lead to discoveries based on basic properties of them. Like knowing which ones are closest or brightest. Maybe someday what they look like." he wrote.

He dotted the last period triumphantly and started to hand the journal back to the boy before noticing the last statement.

"Hi Davor. I'm Atticus Leslie." He wrote in a delicate motion. After which, he handed the book back to Davor.

Atticus was sure the journal served a purpose. Otherwise Davor would just speak, right? Hoping not to offend, Atticus caught the child's gaze. He tapped his own throat a bit, because maybe the child couldn't hear either. It wouldn't be unheard of. OOCPun totally intended.

"Can you speak, Davor?"

[Davor Aveloz]

OOCDamn you and your puns XD

Davor nibbled on his lower lip as he pondered the other boy's written response. Hold up, the planet is rotating on its own? Even now? But, I'm on the planet, and I don't feel movement. The Symenestra huffed in frustration as he tried to puzzle out that strange sentence. The words wrapped around his waking mind as he pieced together what he knew of the world with what was scrawled on the paper. To move with such vastness suspended in the void of the night sky, it truly boggled the youth's mind. A few ticks more of intense thought, and Davor managed to get an inkling of what the boy next to him meant. Perhaps it is like a ride in a cart moving quickly on a smooth road, but on a grand scale? One moves with the cart's speed without necessarily moving themselves or falling off the cart?

Smiling to himself with contentment as the concept settled pleasantly within his mind, Davor's grin extended slightly as he read the boy's following message. Atticus Leslie, the youth thought to himself, feeling out the name silently to himself. It struck him as slightly strange, from what he knew of the Common language 'Leslie' was feminine rather than masculine in terms of nomenclature, but Davor figured it was another Lhavit custom that escaped his understanding.

At Atticus' inquiry, the Symenestran's smile faded slightly. He had explained his condition many times in his life, but it never proved a fun topic. After discovering he couldn't speak, people either treated him with pity or like a glass doll. He hated it when people saw him as fragile, hated the bitter-black feeling that burned at the back of his throat when he saw the sadness in their eyes. Yet, it was a necessary 'discussion' to have with people, elsewise interaction had a funny way of becoming increasingly difficut.

Davor tapped his throat and shook his head in response, but followed with tapping his ears and nodding. It proved a fairly common assumption that the youth was both deaf and mute, many people not used to separating the two afflictions. Hoping to curtail any follow up questions and change the topic, Davor hurried scribbled down any question that popped into his head.

"So, you said that 'it's just what you've always done'? How long have you been studying the stars? Is it your job? What got you into the field? Did you or do you have a mentor? Do you study it at school? You should teach it, you're a good teacher," the Symenestran finished writing, unaware of how desperate his questions became and how his scratching became rough and hurried. With an almost forceful attempt, the youth shoved the book into Atticus' hands.

His heartbeat pattered quicker and quicker, a drum following the beat of its own making, and Davor desperately hoped he wouldn't have to discuss his disability any further. If he did, the circumstance of his birth and his mother would undoubtedly be brought up, and in that topic lay the darker feelings of his person; ones he usually reserved for playing. The boy looked longingly at his violin case for comfort, before returning his attention back to youth sitting next to him.

[Atticus Leslie]

Davor seemed to have some issue understanding, he observed. Which was peculiar. Most people in the city understood some basic constructs of the realities of astronomy, it was nearly part of the culture. Either Davor hadn't gotten out much, which was understandable, or he was new to the city, which seemed likely. Or it could've been that Davor hadn't spoken to many people regardless of his time here. He was something of an... Odd bird, with his black nails and ghastly complexion. And then the actual speaking part, which would be a big issue in trying to communicate, and seemingly something the child had issue with.

Atticus studied him as he wrote. Despite appearances and outward traits, Davor seemed rather typical. Quiet, maybe, but typical. He wasn't anything even similar to violent, he wasn't attempting to take anything of Atticus' or had invaded his space just for the sake of invasion, he was just curious. Curious was something Atticus liked, respected even. It was something he could see in Davor that he could also see in himself. Maybe that could help him connect with the child.

Davor wrote with furious intent in his little book, eager to respond. Maybe he was a little more than curious. Atticus quietly pondered what could have convinced Davor to come here, on a particularly unassuming night, at a particularly unassuming spot. Atticus had chosen it for the skies and the lack of light, logical reasons that would aid his observations of the heavens. Davor... Davor just seemed to want to be here, further solidifying Atticus' suspicions that he just preferred to be alone.

Davor seemed slightly upset as he morosely looked at Atticus, tapped his throat, and shook his head no. Atticus, for a moment, forgot what that was in response to, as he had somewhat faded from the situation, but quickly recalled the subject at hand.

Davor was mute.

Davor tapped his ears, signalling that he could in fact hear. Atticus assumed Davor wasn't too keen to speak about this at length from his attitude, and Atticus wasn't about to force him into a situation he didn't want to be in, so in response the small astronomer offered a thumbs up.

The ghostly lad turned his head down, scribbling furiously at the pages in his journal. When he was finished, he nearly thrust the book into Atticus' arms, who took it again with ginger care.

"So you said that 'it's just what you've always done'? How long have you been studying the stars? Is it your job? What got you into the field? Did you or do you have a mentor? Do you study it at school? You should teach it, you're a good teacher."

Atticus held his head back in shock and bulged his eyes. This kid's got a lot of questions, he thought. He shrugged, and began scribbling out a reply.

"Yeah, it's just what I do I guess. Ever since I was very little. I'm not sure why. I just kind of feel attracted to the field and to how little we know on the subject. So I figure maybe I can figure something out about it no one else has yet. And, yes, I am lucky now that I can say it is my job to look at the stars. I work as an apprentice at the Iraltu Observatory. I was self taught up until then and couldn't question many people on the subject but I'm supposed to get one very soon. Maybe one day I'll teach. I want to know more before I do that."

Atticus thought a little bit. He should add something about Davor, maybe? It seemed a little rude to go on and on about himself.

"What about you? What do you do? Tell me about yourself." he wrote, carefully handing the book back to the young boy with a smile.

[Davor Aveloz]

Much to Davor's relief, Atticus didn't seem intent on pressing the issue of his muteness. Whether it was due to the other boy's ability to pick up on the Symenestran's discomfort or Davor's own attempts to sidestep the issue, he didn't know. All that he cared about was that he wouldn't have to see a pity-stained stare soil his deep brown eyes.

A flash of white fangs ever so slightly peeked out behind Davor's smile, the boy finding Atticus' answer to his questions pleasantly intriguing. From what Atticus was telling him, Davor gathered that star-gazing was something of a passion for the other boy. The way the youth spoke about the subject, had written about it in his journal, and the manner in which he described just being drawn to their saintly glowing sights; all of it pointed to something deeper than a passing appreciation for the art. Davor respected that passion, that drive to perfect one's craft, immensely. That feeling, that undeniable urge for excellence, Davor had to admit he felt all the same emotions when his violin was in his hands. It struck him as strange, that despite the vast differences in their chosen professions, each required the same base hunger for growth.

A puzzled expression painted itself clearly on the pale white of the Symenestran's face as he read Atticus' inquiry. He hadn't often been asked to talk about himself, even back in Kalinor. In all honesty, Davor was more used to keeping to himself, hiding behind the wall that silence had provided. The youth wasn't sure he had actually had 'spoken' to anyone at this length since his departure from his home. Anxiety began the slow creep from his back to his neck, sending nervous pricks all up along his spine.

What do I say? he thought frantically to himself. What if I mess it up? What if I say something he doesn't like?

Davor's mouth parted in silent paranoia, his shy tendencies beginning to get the better of him and urging him to escape confrontation rather than face embarrassment. However, at the sight of the other boy's smile, the anxiety which seized his mind slowly began to diffuse itself. Oh, um, well, maybe he really wants to know? His unfounded fears placated by the simple shine of white from the other boy, Davor relaxed slightly as his wrote his response.

"I'm a violinist. Well, I guess I'm called a 'bard' now ever since Rhaus got involved. My mother played before See, it's a bit of a family tradition I suppose, and actually part of the reason I came out here tonight. Lhavit is so big and noisy, especially compared to Kalinor, I haven't really had a chance to play since I got here. The park is quiet enough for me to focus, and its got sort of a subtle beauty to it. Most of the music I write is founded in nature, and the park has plenty of inspiration to be found."

He paused his writing for a second, looked down at the dark wood of the insturment case at the side of the bench, and the back down at the journal.

"I could play for you. I mean, not a song about you, because that would be weird and we're strangers who met at a park in the dark after you scared me and that sort stuff only happens in really bad fairy tales. Only if, you know, you want."

As he passed the journal to Atticus, Davor wondered how, despite being mute, he was still capable of putting his foot in his mouth.

OOCAnything that has a line through it is something that Davor has written but tried to scratch out with his pencil.