The boy was no more than twelve years old, perhaps older, but short standing at four feet and about a half. He ran with a big gray Quacian Bloodhound, teasing it with a short stick, waving the stick in Botany’s face and then throwing it. He ran after the dog as it bounded to fetch the stick through the garden, winding around the fences and footpaths around the brambles that made up the place. The first shoots of spring were starting to come through by then, so it wasn’t as cold as the day Perdita had first arrived at his house. In fact, it was getting warmer everyday.
Woe had soothed his sparks, deigning to wear a ring of paradigm, and give his sparks a rest. They had been acting up of late, and he wished to see how well he could function, longer and longer without them. With the sparks’ rest, so too went the thirst, and he felt himself quite safe to be around. He wouldn’t tolerate anything less for the young girl that was working on his art. It’d been a bit reckless to allow her inside the house, with his sparks still active albeit soothed. But one that he learned from in retrospect.
Iago, the aforementioned boy playing with Botany, was beginning a new game with the dog, and raced around the newly budding brambles with him. Then, the Quacian bloodhound alerted, breathing a bark into the air as it sensed a newcomer in their midst. It sensed Perdita’s arrival before she made herself seen or known.
Before Iago could stop him, he began bounding toward the girl, his big clumsy legs twisting and pumping against the ground as he rushed to meet this new person. Woe was seated just outside of the fence that led into the garden, it was a simple precaution to show her where he was, so she wouldn’t have the nervous adventure of knocking on the door, wondering when he would answer, where he was, if he was in the middle of something, and so on. Woe was careful to consider what might make the girl nervous, and try to mitigate that, as he had no magic at the moment to settle her if her anxiety began acting up again.
”Botany! Iago, please don’t work him up!” Woe sighed in dismay as the dog began bounding off on the road into the rest of Egilrun, looking for that foreign scent. The paradigmed mortalborn got up from his seat, and began running after the dog, trying to keep pace so he wouldn’t tackle the poor artist.
Breen, come and help me with Botany will you? The telepathic message sent to his diri, and Breen appeared at his side, coming with him and rushing to intercept Botany if he got too rough with their visitor.
