Each shade of blue is kept in our eyes

Anatole Aston · 09-25-2012, 01:11 PM

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Salsola. It sounded foreign, though not in the way their own native language was. Anatole wondered at its origin only for a moment, taking in the names and storing them away. He was good with remembering things, though sometimes slow in this matter. Often when he was traversing through memories he seemed to zone out, fall inward, and his mother had once warned him that doing so in front of others would make him look stupid. She had never been afraid to bluntly scold him on such things, and his behavior was largely influenced by her desire to make him into an idealized, native son.

Yet it was a younger boy, headstrong and fearless, that appeared on his face as a cocky smirk took place there. He had once thought himself invincible, after all. “I’ll be fine,” he reassured her, and advanced. Anatole nudged her with his nose, a wolfish sign of his understanding of her worry. “If you need us—me or Claudius, I mean,” he added, and drew back to speak to her face. Her eyes were still strange to him, mismatched and wounded as they were. They looked different now but he couldn’t say why. “Just come find us, yeah?” It would do no good to leave his kin in the cold. Even if Tayui’s path had taken her away from AniWaya, Anatole still firmly believed in the bond of blood and would honor it, were he so asked.

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