The trial was warm; warmer than usual, in fact. Teddy strolled through the street, whistling some tune he’d heard and could only vaguely remember. Even his whistling had a lilting quality to it, sounding like windchimes blowing in a gentle breeze. With nowhere to be, Teddy could just find his way about Andaris at a leisurely pace. His time was his own, and he didn’t get much of his own time. Being the youngest son had its perks, for sure, but there was always a constant eye on him to ensure that he was following the path that everyone had set before him. Marching in lockstep to the expectations of society. He thought bitterly, his mouth pursing. He chuckled at himself, the morbidity oddly out of character for him. It reminded him of someone, someone that he hadn’t seen in more than a few trials.
Teddy always got along with Tristan, though not necessarily because they shared any common interests. Teddy’s moodiness and intense interest in music sometimes separated the brothers, but they always found that they could rely on each other in times of personal crisis. But it was seldom when they just visited one another in their spare time, so Teddy veered down a side street in the labyrinthine setup of the Andaris streets. Tristan would be so surprised to see him, he hoped. A small smile found its way to his face as he thought about it.
As he walked and whistled, Teddy thought about their childhood together. Tristan was the adored, the doted on, and though Teddy got his fair share of attention, it was nothing like Tristan. Sure, there was some resentment in Teddy for that, but he adored his brother too. He’d always looked up to him, hoping to one day emulate his brother’s affinity for learning. Instead, watching Tristan had taught him to be himself, no matter what was expected, and rather than take up a manual skill, he learned to use his voice to please. Tristan was good with his hands; his sculptures would stand the tests of time and people would admire them for arcs to come. But Teddy’s music, the arias Teddy wanted to leave in his wake… They would move people for arcs to come. That was the legacy the youngest Venora would leave.
Before he knew it, he was standing in front of Tristan’s house. He stared at the door for a long while, debating now whether to knock or leave. He and Tristan got along, sure, but were they really close enough for him to arrive unannounced? He bit his lip gently, something he did when nervous, but ultimately decided to knock. The worst that could happen would be for him to be turned away. And he seriously doubted Tristan would do that. So he stepped to the wooden door, rapping three short times with his knuckles. After a moment, when he heard nothing, he knocked again.
He heard a hiss from behind the door, and he took a step back and glared. Mistral. His brother’s cat was insufferable. If the Venora were graceful and beautiful, Mistral was the opposite of a Venora. Teddy hated the cat, personally, but Tristan wouldn’t get rid of it. He wondered if he could let the cat out. Perhaps it would run away and never come back. Teddy smiled again, this time broadly. That would be ideal, wouldn’t it? The thought brightened his mood, and he knocked again. However, rather than waiting for a response, he just tried the handle to the house, and found that the door swung open.
He stared into the sunlit house, and his eyes fell on the cat immediately. Shining eyes stared back at him, and a low growl escaped Mistral’s mouth. Teddy glared at the cat, issuing a low hiss back at it in a childish display. Immediately after he did so, Teddy looked around sheepishly, ensuring that nobody saw him hiss at the cat. Thankfully, he saw nobody. Instead, he stepped into the house, which was eerily quiet. It was obvious that Tristan wasn’t in, but Teddy was already there. Might as well make sure.
”Brother?” He called out softly, though he didn’t quite know why. If Tristan was not there, he would disturb nobody. But if he was there, he would not have heard the call. ”Brother?!” More emphatic, the call would echo through the house. Though he didn’t expect to hear anything in return, a shuffling from the far end of the small house caught his attention, and he stopped dead in his tracks. He was unarmed, and quite unqualified to defend himself in any case. If there was some assailant, the Graceful House of Venora would be one son short at the end of the trial, for sure. He could feel his body tense up, fight or flight response kicking in immediately. He could still feel the eyes of the cat on his back, and it did nothing to assuage his high anxiety. He crouched slightly and waited for the shuffling to approach him.
Teddy always got along with Tristan, though not necessarily because they shared any common interests. Teddy’s moodiness and intense interest in music sometimes separated the brothers, but they always found that they could rely on each other in times of personal crisis. But it was seldom when they just visited one another in their spare time, so Teddy veered down a side street in the labyrinthine setup of the Andaris streets. Tristan would be so surprised to see him, he hoped. A small smile found its way to his face as he thought about it.
As he walked and whistled, Teddy thought about their childhood together. Tristan was the adored, the doted on, and though Teddy got his fair share of attention, it was nothing like Tristan. Sure, there was some resentment in Teddy for that, but he adored his brother too. He’d always looked up to him, hoping to one day emulate his brother’s affinity for learning. Instead, watching Tristan had taught him to be himself, no matter what was expected, and rather than take up a manual skill, he learned to use his voice to please. Tristan was good with his hands; his sculptures would stand the tests of time and people would admire them for arcs to come. But Teddy’s music, the arias Teddy wanted to leave in his wake… They would move people for arcs to come. That was the legacy the youngest Venora would leave.
Before he knew it, he was standing in front of Tristan’s house. He stared at the door for a long while, debating now whether to knock or leave. He and Tristan got along, sure, but were they really close enough for him to arrive unannounced? He bit his lip gently, something he did when nervous, but ultimately decided to knock. The worst that could happen would be for him to be turned away. And he seriously doubted Tristan would do that. So he stepped to the wooden door, rapping three short times with his knuckles. After a moment, when he heard nothing, he knocked again.
He heard a hiss from behind the door, and he took a step back and glared. Mistral. His brother’s cat was insufferable. If the Venora were graceful and beautiful, Mistral was the opposite of a Venora. Teddy hated the cat, personally, but Tristan wouldn’t get rid of it. He wondered if he could let the cat out. Perhaps it would run away and never come back. Teddy smiled again, this time broadly. That would be ideal, wouldn’t it? The thought brightened his mood, and he knocked again. However, rather than waiting for a response, he just tried the handle to the house, and found that the door swung open.
He stared into the sunlit house, and his eyes fell on the cat immediately. Shining eyes stared back at him, and a low growl escaped Mistral’s mouth. Teddy glared at the cat, issuing a low hiss back at it in a childish display. Immediately after he did so, Teddy looked around sheepishly, ensuring that nobody saw him hiss at the cat. Thankfully, he saw nobody. Instead, he stepped into the house, which was eerily quiet. It was obvious that Tristan wasn’t in, but Teddy was already there. Might as well make sure.
”Brother?” He called out softly, though he didn’t quite know why. If Tristan was not there, he would disturb nobody. But if he was there, he would not have heard the call. ”Brother?!” More emphatic, the call would echo through the house. Though he didn’t expect to hear anything in return, a shuffling from the far end of the small house caught his attention, and he stopped dead in his tracks. He was unarmed, and quite unqualified to defend himself in any case. If there was some assailant, the Graceful House of Venora would be one son short at the end of the trial, for sure. He could feel his body tense up, fight or flight response kicking in immediately. He could still feel the eyes of the cat on his back, and it did nothing to assuage his high anxiety. He crouched slightly and waited for the shuffling to approach him.
