To take leave with as much dignity as possible and return to the tree-house.
To regain the intimacy of his apartment.
Hesitating between dancing and collapsing on the moss green floor.
Finally Copal went to immerse himself in the contemplation of his apartment rotoa.
Unfortunately this did not bring him the usual appeasement.
He stared at it without seeing it. His mind kept returning to the events of the day. Oscillated between exaltation and despair.
He had seen her again! They had spent the evening digging together at the Grove.
It wasn't his favorite activity, but it didn't matter. He had been by her side. And she had explained to him a bit of the theory of nodes. He hadn't understood it all, but that wasn't the point.
He remembered every word. Every inflection of her voice. Every gesture that reinforced an explanation. Every smile. Ah, her smile...
Copal sank into the memory.
But he quickly became gloomy. Of course they hadn't been alone.
Was it because she was afraid he would misbehave? Yet he hadn't done anything improper. At least not that he could remember.
But indeed she had stayed back several times when they had changed sources. And it seemed to him that she had jumped when he had called her.
And she had quickly withdrawn her hand when his had brushed against it too.
Yet it was completely accidental! He had not wanted to!
Or rather, he hadn't dared. It could happen when you were caring the same source. But she had still removed her hand.
On the other hand, she had agreed to let him walk her back to the tree-house. It was even the second time they had made the trip together since the teleporter. A delightful walk under the trees of Avalae.
They lived in the same tree. She in her guild. He in his apartment.
Would he dare to invite her there one day?
Nec, nec, nec. No way.
Copal looked at his few pieces of furniture. The almost complete lack of decoration.
What would she think when she saw all his scribe’s tools? The stacked files? The archives he had borrowed?
It was his work. Necessary for the Kingdom of course. And it had allowed him to attend the Court of the Karae Court.
But he was a little ashamed of it now. He was only a servant after all. While she...
Besides, she had not given his title when she had introduced him to the little Tryker at the teleporter.
He had felt a little offended at the time.
But maybe it was for the best. Maybe she hadn't wanted to remind him that he wasn't a minstrel, an artist. Nor a Noble. Like the other Matis present.
Yes. She was always delicate and thoughtful.
Or maybe she had taken pity on him.
Copal fell back into his dark ruminations.
Yet she had seemed a little concerned for him when they had talked about his training. She had hoped he was careful.
Then he had been bold. He'd dared to suggest that she come back and help him when he was practicing fencing on the cratchas of the Knoll of Dissent. As she had done before.
And she had refused.
She had been polite.
She had explained that she wanted to perfect the art of healing. That healing was her life.
Her whole life.
Copal sighed.
She was of a much higher level than he was. There was no way she would come back to heal him under these conditions.
Except out of pity. Out of the goodness of her heart.
That wasn't what he wanted.
There was only one way.
He would return to the Knoll the next day after his shift at the archives. He had to make enough progress so that they could train together. So that it wouldn't be unbalanced. So that he could help her in turn to progress.
That she became the great caretaker she dreamed of being.
And pray to Jena with all his heart that she wouldn’t meet anyone else before then.
Copal stood up resolutely.
He could do nothing against the crowd of elegant and distinguished Matis that populated the Court.
But he could sleep to be in good shape the next day.
His hand slid over the small parchment in his pocket. The one that had started it all. The few words that said she was at the Grove.
The message was not signed. But it had to be in her hand. Elegant, light, witty.
Copal took a deep breath. But the scroll smelled only of the earth they had turned over together.
It had to be her who had written it. Who had told him where to find her. Who had wished for his presence.
Maybe he had a chance. Maybe. Maybe. Maybe.
One last thought crossed his mind as he drifted off to sleep.
There was no way he was going to tell his mother about this at the next family dinner.
To regain the intimacy of his apartment.
Hesitating between dancing and collapsing on the moss green floor.
Finally Copal went to immerse himself in the contemplation of his apartment rotoa.
Unfortunately this did not bring him the usual appeasement.
He stared at it without seeing it. His mind kept returning to the events of the day. Oscillated between exaltation and despair.
He had seen her again! They had spent the evening digging together at the Grove.
It wasn't his favorite activity, but it didn't matter. He had been by her side. And she had explained to him a bit of the theory of nodes. He hadn't understood it all, but that wasn't the point.
He remembered every word. Every inflection of her voice. Every gesture that reinforced an explanation. Every smile. Ah, her smile...
Copal sank into the memory.
But he quickly became gloomy. Of course they hadn't been alone.
Was it because she was afraid he would misbehave? Yet he hadn't done anything improper. At least not that he could remember.
But indeed she had stayed back several times when they had changed sources. And it seemed to him that she had jumped when he had called her.
And she had quickly withdrawn her hand when his had brushed against it too.
Yet it was completely accidental! He had not wanted to!
Or rather, he hadn't dared. It could happen when you were caring the same source. But she had still removed her hand.
On the other hand, she had agreed to let him walk her back to the tree-house. It was even the second time they had made the trip together since the teleporter. A delightful walk under the trees of Avalae.
They lived in the same tree. She in her guild. He in his apartment.
Would he dare to invite her there one day?
Nec, nec, nec. No way.
Copal looked at his few pieces of furniture. The almost complete lack of decoration.
What would she think when she saw all his scribe’s tools? The stacked files? The archives he had borrowed?
It was his work. Necessary for the Kingdom of course. And it had allowed him to attend the Court of the Karae Court.
But he was a little ashamed of it now. He was only a servant after all. While she...
Besides, she had not given his title when she had introduced him to the little Tryker at the teleporter.
He had felt a little offended at the time.
But maybe it was for the best. Maybe she hadn't wanted to remind him that he wasn't a minstrel, an artist. Nor a Noble. Like the other Matis present.
Yes. She was always delicate and thoughtful.
Or maybe she had taken pity on him.
Copal fell back into his dark ruminations.
Yet she had seemed a little concerned for him when they had talked about his training. She had hoped he was careful.
Then he had been bold. He'd dared to suggest that she come back and help him when he was practicing fencing on the cratchas of the Knoll of Dissent. As she had done before.
And she had refused.
She had been polite.
She had explained that she wanted to perfect the art of healing. That healing was her life.
Her whole life.
Copal sighed.
She was of a much higher level than he was. There was no way she would come back to heal him under these conditions.
Except out of pity. Out of the goodness of her heart.
That wasn't what he wanted.
There was only one way.
He would return to the Knoll the next day after his shift at the archives. He had to make enough progress so that they could train together. So that it wouldn't be unbalanced. So that he could help her in turn to progress.
That she became the great caretaker she dreamed of being.
And pray to Jena with all his heart that she wouldn’t meet anyone else before then.
Copal stood up resolutely.
He could do nothing against the crowd of elegant and distinguished Matis that populated the Court.
But he could sleep to be in good shape the next day.
His hand slid over the small parchment in his pocket. The one that had started it all. The few words that said she was at the Grove.
The message was not signed. But it had to be in her hand. Elegant, light, witty.
Copal took a deep breath. But the scroll smelled only of the earth they had turned over together.
It had to be her who had written it. Who had told him where to find her. Who had wished for his presence.
Maybe he had a chance. Maybe. Maybe. Maybe.
One last thought crossed his mind as he drifted off to sleep.
There was no way he was going to tell his mother about this at the next family dinner.