Moonspear fireflies downright

It had never occurred to him that someone could have such a vastly different life. To Altair, all children were loved and cared for. They were guided and taught the things that they needed to know as far as he could know, all of that was being done for him and his siblings. While Mira’s disappearance was certainly a thing that darkened his thoughts and actions in spurts, he still held onto the hope and confidence that she would be all right. She had to be—they were all descendants of great things, or so his mother had told him. They were not easily swayed or taken away because of their ignorance; they were headstrong and individual, sharp in ways that would show as they grew.

As her voice drifted off on the wind, his ears slicked back in a silent apology as though he had been reprimanded. Desdemona had given him something to think about and in spite of his own streaks of arrogance, he felt certain he had brushed a topic that was sensitive even if she didn’t openly display it. Just a few lines to simply put him in his place and remind him that perhaps yes, he did in fact have a life that was more solid and better than others. They all did, his cousins included. He decided not to investigate the topic further.

When the silence however became too much, he found that his tongue would not be stilled.

“Can you teach me how to be a guardian? I mean, I know my mom’s been showing me some stuff but she and my dad also say there’s much we can learn from others too. And you don’t have to,” he said, cutting off. Would she feel ordered by him, because of who his parents were? “I’ll be good, I promise. Maybe then we can find Mira.” Maybe that would bolster her a bit, maybe as much as it would him.