We all look up at the same sun

Swentzle Byström · 12-13-2011, 12:01 AM

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Word Count → 442

Irinei yelped slightly as he was hit, and then lunged over the side of the cart after Leon as he leapt away, leaning back quickly before Swentzle saw him "attempting to re-injure himself" but mumbling angry death-threats under his breath as he did. Luckily, Leon spoke at that moment, so Swentzle didn't hear a thing.

Swentzle's lips twitched slightly as Leon ratted Irinei out, shaking his head and trying not to get caught in the middle of it. He was not Leon's father, and he was not old enough to be Irinei's; but their childish ways seemed to enroll him in a more parental role than he'd ever expected. He could only feel remorse for the fact that raising Shevon had not taught him to expect this; but then, she'd been only of the age three months when he last saw her, and female, at that. He could hope this was a 'guy' thing--and that he would have only daughters for the rest of his life.

In answer to Leon's complaint, Swentzle adopted a dry tone and told him, "It comes with youth, I'm afraid. He'll grow out of it, I'm sure." And gave a look to the gray male that said clearly, "As I hope you will." Irinei, listening to their conversation and missing the look completely, huffed and crossed his arms, then winced as he elbowed himself in the ribs, attempting to relax again and stop causing himself pain. At Leon's "jealous" comment, Irinei gave a harsh laugh, muttering something along the lines of, "As if," under his breath, and turned his face away. Swentzle sighed, running his fingers over his eyes and murmuring condolences to himself about having to deal with two children who really should have been old enough to know better, before turning his attention back to Leon. "Ah, I cannot think of anything that I need at this moment." He said thoughtfully, but as this was the second--or was it third?--time Leon had come to him seeking to aide, he paused a moment to think about it. As he did so, the hand that had been guiding Hamza came up to rub at his throat, and after a moment he could think of nothing but the sorting he still needed done in the bags in the wagon. "I don't suppose you know the differences between herbs? Or perhaps that you are any good at grinding things into powder?" He needed more of his cinnamon-Chile incense slash spice, but seeing as the Chile was still in its whole form and the cinnamon in sticks, they'd need to be ground up first.

Table by Aly, code by the Mentors!

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