Interlude II (Estonia)

[Thalia]

It took her a moment of wondering what he meant before belated comprehension drew a smile, and by that time he had already begun to walk away. She made no great pretension to the possession of wisdom, though she might have teased him about where he came about the name in the first place. As it was she only fell into an easy step beside him, buoyed by that simple act of acceptance welcoming her company for a time longer. 

She spoke about everything and nothing as they walked, unconcerned by his quietness -- or at least unconcerned that she was the cause, even when he appeared not to be listening. She told him more of the city’s river market and the people she had met there; the folklore she had learned from locals, personal stories as much as the things to be found in books; the sorts of insights he would never be privy to on the pedestal of his station. Though perhaps he did not care to know such things. In any case, her mind flooded out in strange ways, pulling up the oddest treasures from ordinary life. There was an earnest simplicity to the way she approached life, though not a shallow one.

It was clear Thalia did not much care for labels. Fate or kismet or faith; such mysteries did not need an explanation, at least not for her. She felt things deeply, and found wonder as often in the small places as the important ones. Neither did she care much for formality, though she suspected he would not appreciate anything less from her. She sensed a frigid awkwardness when they finally stopped, as though the oddity of their match made a discomfort of ritual that he felt keenly. It warmed her in a strange way, the peek at that fragile uncertainty.

“We have an audience,” she observed quietly. Though her flippancy would have found no hesitation had they been alone, she had no wish to embarrass him either. His brows rose a question for the clueless way she looked at him. “Am I supposed to kiss that like you’re a king?” she whispered, the puzzlement genuinely meant. With the vibrancy of his scarlet cassock it was not like she could forget the shell of who he was, yet it was clearly not what she saw. She reached out to squeeze the hand he offered in warm friendship, despite suspecting it may be considered scandalous. His teeth were sharp, but she discovered she was not much afraid of them. Should appearances require the deference, she would acquiesce, but clearly she did not understand the necessity.