Noctisardor Bypass proverbs 22:6

amadeo had done his best to stay away from heda over the passing days, wishing to grant her space and time that was likely necessary in order to rid herself of the blood-sucking leper that was anselm. but this brought him to an important realization — if he was to marry heda, should he not familiarize himself with her sons?
surely they knew his face the same way that he knew their names, with him having only truly interacted with them in passing in order to avoid the wrath of their quack of a father. now was as good a time as any to get to know them. soon, they would have the choice of bearing his name.
the rendezvous shimmers with the glow of fireflies as he drags the hind limb of a pronghorn at his side, still warm and glistening with scarlet. if heda had raised them to have any taste, surely they would appreciate the meal.
hey, @Ezra! @Gideon! he sounds their names with a charming sing-song note, settling down on his haunches a safe distance from the prize. i brought you boys something!

ezra is unsure what to make of the dark pelaged man that has been hanging around his mother more and more. having gotten quite comfortable with @Anselm's presence. a lot was changing and ezra, who is becoming more and more aware of concepts more complex, feels the weight of them differently.

druid is gone. his den-mates are reclusive.

he sticks close to @Gideon's side as much as he can.

though he does not entirely understand it, he recognizes at least that dynamics are shifting.

so, when the man calls for him and his brother, ezra lets out a low snort, golden gaze wary as he approaches; drawn out by curiosity more than anything else.

vhat vant? demands ezra, mimicking anselm's accent, trying to imitate the only man he really likes besides etienne ( but he hasn't seen him in quite some time ).

gideon is still welcome! <3

out comes the boy who looked most like heda, plodding along with a rather grumpy, uncertain manner about him. this one was ezra, if amadeo remembered correctly; the one who was — normal, except for the fact that he seems to have picked up anselm's beer-battered accent.
amadeo smiles curtly down at the boy, gesturing with a raised forelimb to the fresh meat. i just wanted to say hello, he purrs. and i brought you lunch, if you'd like. take as much as you want. i've already eaten.
he peels his gaze away as if to give ezra some semblance of space; he was here to earn the trust of his future stepsons, not force them into calling him father. there was no success in that unless he wished for them to turn away from him the moment they hit nine months of age.
he idly watches a pair of songbirds mingling in the brush as he asks, so, how have you been? do you like being at the rendezvous?

there is something in amadeo's smile that sits in ezra's stomach like curled milk. perhaps it is his own bias and uncertainly 'round the older man but either way, ezra is old enough to recognize his own intuition now: right or wrong.

for a brief moment, there is a stir of something that feels older than the sky and bones within ezra. there and gone before he could even truly realize it happened. it leaves him with a small shiver that travels down his spine, but nothing more.

golden gaze studies the meat and then amadeo's face unabashedly. intently as the older man asks him questions that felt more adult than they did kid oriented. like discussing the weather.

you vant to talk about the den? asks ezra, summoning an incredulity that spoke of a maturity beyond his age despite that it was a mere mimic. he was still, very much a child. it was his not-so-subtle way of communicating that he didn't find small talk interesting. vho are you? he demands then, not sure that he's ever actually met the man ( and if he did, he did not remember ).

this one took after anselm way too much for amadeo's liking.
i'm amadeo, he answers matter-of-factly, biting back the urge to strike the boy, maintaining his smile; though it becomes visibly strained. i'm friends with your mother. which was true. heda would've likely told them something similar. but now he began to wonder — had she not told her boys about him yet? even warned them of the fact that he existed?
you know, you've got quite a bit of resolve, he quirks a brow, shifting so that he may take the pressure off of his aging joints. perhaps he could pique the boy's interest in another way — anything to get him to stop glaring at him like that incredulous queer. i bet you will make a mighty general one day. perhaps a guardian, or a tactician. that's what i used to be, before i came to rivenwood.

amadeo, friend of his mother's.

ezra's golden gaze is steady, scrutinizing as he is told that he has a lot of resolve. ezra isn't sure what exactly that is, and his brow furrows as he tries to puzzle it out.

and admittedly, being told that he ( might ) make a mighty general one day does stroke ezra's ego ... even if he has yet to consider what path he desires to pursue. soon, he would as the chrysalis of childhood cracked and fell away.

already, he was speeding towards it, he just didn't realize it.

vhy did you stop being a general? asks ezra, his interest successfully piqued.