[ As happy as he is to see Csevet, his presence shatters the feeling, that Maia had sunk into without realizing it after the first few days, that this place is some kind of dream, unconnected to his real life. Csevet is a part of that real life, and brings its concerns rushing back. For a moment, Maia is all business, asking Csevet the exact date when he was last in court and then sighing with relief when Csevet tells him, shoulders relaxing.
Of course, he does not doubt Csevet, and his words alone are all that could have reassured Maia on this point. Even before the question in Csevet's voice becomes a spoken inquiry, Maia explains: ]
You were no doubt told, as we were, that after a period of some time, we might be returned to our homes, an we request it? That this- this portal, which brought us here, might return us even at the precise moment of our departure? We did not know if we should believe, yet it must be true, for our last day at the court was ten days before yours. Therefore we must return, and so will you.
[ And then Maia's eyes light up, realizing a connection he had not thought of before: ]
It is like in the wonder tale, about Iviru in the land of the fairies. She is brought there on a white horse with a blindfold fixed tight, and dances in the fairy court for a hundred nights without sleeping, and at the strike of midnight on her hundredth night, the horse reappears and she puts the blindfold on once more and is returned to the instant she left. But when her sister Neleis goes to the fairyland after her, and dances a hundred nights, she disobey's the fox's advice and removes the blindfold on the journey home. When she sees herself on that same horse, being brought away even as she is being brought back, her heart turns to stone and she dies. We- we are like Iviru.
[ He stumbled at the end, his enthusiasm at the beginning of the story stuttering away into embarrassment and uncertainty at the enthusiasm of his retelling. Such stories are, after all, childish things. Maia had always begged his mother to tell them to him. She was too sickly, many days, to walk out with him or play, but she could always speak, and knew all the best tales.
As if to compound things, a waiter with a fanged and surprisingly charming smile stops by their table and asks if they are ready to order. Maia, face hot, merely says: ]
no subject
Of course, he does not doubt Csevet, and his words alone are all that could have reassured Maia on this point. Even before the question in Csevet's voice becomes a spoken inquiry, Maia explains: ]
You were no doubt told, as we were, that after a period of some time, we might be returned to our homes, an we request it? That this- this portal, which brought us here, might return us even at the precise moment of our departure? We did not know if we should believe, yet it must be true, for our last day at the court was ten days before yours. Therefore we must return, and so will you.
[ And then Maia's eyes light up, realizing a connection he had not thought of before: ]
It is like in the wonder tale, about Iviru in the land of the fairies. She is brought there on a white horse with a blindfold fixed tight, and dances in the fairy court for a hundred nights without sleeping, and at the strike of midnight on her hundredth night, the horse reappears and she puts the blindfold on once more and is returned to the instant she left. But when her sister Neleis goes to the fairyland after her, and dances a hundred nights, she disobey's the fox's advice and removes the blindfold on the journey home. When she sees herself on that same horse, being brought away even as she is being brought back, her heart turns to stone and she dies. We- we are like Iviru.
[ He stumbled at the end, his enthusiasm at the beginning of the story stuttering away into embarrassment and uncertainty at the enthusiasm of his retelling. Such stories are, after all, childish things. Maia had always begged his mother to tell them to him. She was too sickly, many days, to walk out with him or play, but she could always speak, and knew all the best tales.
As if to compound things, a waiter with a fanged and surprisingly charming smile stops by their table and asks if they are ready to order. Maia, face hot, merely says: ]
We do not- any dish will please us, thank you.