His own smile's easy. Mostly, it reaches his eyes.
"Cedric," Take it in: Young guy, tall guy — and something stretched from place. Mimicking an unfamiliar shape. Last year he must've looked the same (most days, he still feels it). "What's the trouble, Messere?"
Absent habit finds a taper, tipped from one to another to the dark row of candles. Been a long time since he'd teach the kids how to trim wicks, to keep wax from spilling to hand. All seemed so tedious back then, young and itching for the sword. Too small a world to settle for.
Been a long time. He offers the candle over, there's one more to light.
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"Cedric," Take it in: Young guy, tall guy — and something stretched from place. Mimicking an unfamiliar shape. Last year he must've looked the same (most days, he still feels it). "What's the trouble, Messere?"
Absent habit finds a taper, tipped from one to another to the dark row of candles. Been a long time since he'd teach the kids how to trim wicks, to keep wax from spilling to hand. All seemed so tedious back then, young and itching for the sword. Too small a world to settle for.
Been a long time. He offers the candle over, there's one more to light.