tindómë is real now. and delight thinks the energy of the forest has changed - there's been a thrumming under his paws for days, the air sharper, and the eclipse and all its tidings brought it all to the surface. even the elk-king knows it. 

so it's time to get serious, the androgyne thinks. he's not seen mato - well, momentary meetings aside- since his fumbled joining of their ranks. he needs to speak to his pri-- his alpha, and make his ambitions known - or else he'll better see himself out. delight gathers his nervous energy and calls out for the silver prince.

for some reason the androgyne had not quite anticipated the silvery prince to actually arrive, and he blushes before he can help himself. he's used to many feelings - namely unresolved angst and sullen woe, but shyness is somewhat novel. it must be because of - how official it is now. mato's just not his will-be leader, he's truly his morwinyon now. 

delight takes a moment to recover, a little visibly flustered, then dips his head. right, he did call the prince for a reason. "i wanted to tell you i've - chosen my trade," he says, tripping over the sentence just a little in an attempt to sound more formal than usual. "i would - like to become our chronicler. if that pleases you," he adds, then makes a face at himself and corrects: "i mean, i figure it makes sense anyway and i talked to seabreeze and trajan about it and they agreed, so," and now the núro is rambling, and he comes to an abrupt stop with a big gulp of air, eyes watching his leader's face for a sign of reaction nervously.

relief and something akin to thrill flood him at the starlit morwinyon's approval. mato repeats what he's been thinking, and what seabreeze and trajan have echoed as well, and the núro dips his head, pleased and not quite able to hide his grin. "that's what i was thinking too," he agrees.

mato offers to help - delight has been planning on speaking to him, anyway, and so he looks back up and nods slowly. "i thought it would be good to - to collect the founding members stories. um, how they came together, that sort of thing. and you, obviously, since you started everything, you're the center of it. seabreeze too," he adds, thinking of their first meeting. though he isn't actually sure when seabreeze joined with mato, the androgyne is holding onto his theories about the nature of their relationship. delight pauses. "and - well, so, i wanted to ask how you decided to make tindómë, where you came from, that sort of thing, and also - about.. about the king elk," and here his voice drops low, hushed excitement crossing his features, "is he why you wanted to pick this forest? i've met him," the wisp finally bursts out, remembering the fading eclipse - met is perhaps generous but delight saw him and spoke to him and he looked at the boy and that meant something. nevermind he wasn't alone (because uka hardly counted), it was still - it meant something.

the androgyne hangs onto every word that falls from his prince's lips like precious silk, expression aglow. lacking the archival tools of a conventional historian delight will have to rely on his memory for his self-given task and he intends to do exactly that. he will imprint the shape of mato's words into the fabric of his being, that he may carry them with him for the totality of his existence.

he bows his head slightly with the morwinyon's words, recalling the visage of the god-creature as it has judged him. it does give him a chill of a sort, having met a god named the wolf-killer and survived (and the elk had plenty of chances to attack at that venture, when both he and uka were reduced to trembling submissives in the face of greatness!) but he lifts his nose and tentatively adds, "i think..i believe that, um, the king elk has accepted us." his own survival adds credence to that particular theory and he says accepts as if he means chosen. mato probably already knows this, though, and he can't help but feel a small flare of embarrassment at his own childish wonder. something about being around the silvery prince makes him want to be - more. 

there is little time to dwell on this though as mato continues into his own story and delight listens intently, committing every word to his memory. it is a flawed logic on his part but of all the stories he feels that mato's must be the most important, not simply because mato is their leader but because mato is the flicker of spirit that drew them together, that took delight in on the heels of tragedy and let him reshape himself into something that can be good, and if his own feelings are in the way of a historian's objectivity he is young and has time to learn better.

 the details are easy to grasp and he has never worried about the shape of such things - broken antler fen, the vale, these will become key elements to the tale that weaves to their founding. there is a part of his natural curiousity that latches onto this new figure, rannoch, thinking of - interviewing him too, but he feels sheepish at that and thinks its best to stick with his own pack's members to start. he does not comment on any part of mato's story, aside from a quirk of the eyebrow at his nickname for seabreeze (and the subsequent roll of his stomach which he staunchly chooses to ignore). he does not revise his earlier thought but makes a mental note - seabreeze is a good friend and he is pleased his vague assumptions on her role in tindómë's founding had been fairly on track, and so she will become a second priority. 

"thank you," the androgyne says after a few moments of silence spent gathering his own thoughts. "that's - good. important." truthfully mato has given him so much information that he is a little caught up on trying to sort through it. he feels a little big for his skin right now. "andum, i think it's brilliant. breaking out of tradition like this," he adds unnecessarily and has to duck to hide the blush that comes immediately on its heels. delight wants to flee a little bit. "...that's a good start, i think," he says instead, unable to come up with any proper follow up questions until he's spoken to his pack-mates (a silly part of him wants to ask about mato's childhood, but that definitely veers out of the professionalism of the trade and into delight's own burgeoning interests and he has embarrassed himself quite enough for one day).

"ainima?" he repeats, tasting the foreign word for himself. he knows - there is a language, at the least, but he has not learned of it yet. (still so hearing it from the morwinyon's lips is a blessing and delight vows to become a touch more studious at the least).

mato's acceptance of his compliment embarrasses the androgyne yet again, though the prince has seemingly not noticed any discomfort on his part, thank the god-creature himself that he might be able to live out his affections quietly and in peace. "i think so," delight says to answer mato's query. he pauses and then adds, "uh, who do you think would be good to talk to? i mean i'll talk to everyone eventually, but i'd like.. to know your opinion." there are, after all, those he does not know, and the morwinyon knows them all.

he listens to mato's explanation intently, curiously. it is a subtle but important distinction - funny, because he's been secretly calling the king elk a god-creature for want of a better word, though delight doesn't know if he believes in gods or not. he does not quite catch mato's sheepish grin, thinking what a beautiful word, then, though his gaze does snap up as mato elaborates on the potential stories within their packmates. he collects the names, mouthing brienne? before making the connection to seabreeze - how many names did this woman carry with herself, delight wondered? 

nova, burke, malice: he commits them to memory, of course eager to speak with the morwinyon's own family. mato comments on trajan as well and the singing-sunlight recalls their first conversation: 'i'm always prepared for the worst', the solider had told him. trajan, at least, is easy enough to find (though he will have strong words for his choice in companionship, should the yearling catch wind of it). the simplest solution is to start with brienne and work his way through their number - of course this is not how things will exactly work out but delight is not to know, yet.

he hums. "thank you," he says seriously, then lifts his head slightly. "oh - also - that language, uh, your language, i mean. what is it called?" it only follows that if tindómë has a language the chronicler must know it intimately (and yes, perhaps it gives him some small excuse to stay in mato's company a moment longer, who can say for sure).