Ah-- were yours the non-magical type that you spoke of?
[Brows lifted a bit.]
Are and were, I'm afraid. My mother was a very gentle soul, and my memories of her; though few; are all bathed in her kindness, I fancy. My father is a bit more stern, a solider with a very neat view on how a young man's life ought to proceed. It's a very common story, I daresay. But I was raised in principle by my Uncle and Grandmother; very good people.
My father is a wizard; my mother is a non-magical sort, yes. But that's quite lovely to hear. I suppose I can't really blame stern parents, especially if it sounds as if they're coming from a place of kindness.
Was she thrilled or alarmed by your talents? Forgive me if I cut too close. [A soft smile.] I should like to be sure that it came from a place of kindness; I cannot think of many fathers who would not be exasperated by a son turning to poetry, of all things; with all seven senses, at that.
Thrilled, I hope. Although exasperated, at times; it isn't particularly easy, I imagine, when your son has magic and you don't. I remember once she wanted to take me to the doctor and I, ah, sealed the door and wouldn't come out.
[He pushes a hand through his hair, vaguely embarrassed.]
In any case. Would you mind showing me some of your poetry at some point? I didn't know you were a poet, to be frank; I'd love to hear some. Read some. Whichever.
Oh! [He chuckles, at that.] Well, I'm not sure if that's really such a magical reaction... you sound like a very typical child to me, just rather more... wieldly.
[He smiled at him, thinking that story incredibly sweet, in fact. His parents must be proud indeed.
Granted, he colours directly after.]
A-ah. Yes, a poet by study and trade, though-- though I can't promise I am really very good. Are you sure you'd want to read that?
Absolutely! I'm sure you're better than you think-- and anyway, I can't write any at all, so whatever you create is better than anything I could come up with. Please? I understand if it's-- if you don't want to, I mean it's deeply personal, but I'd love to read it if you're so inclined.
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Parents have a way of being very galled by it, don't they? I am gald to have convinced you.
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[Brows lifted a bit.]
Are and were, I'm afraid. My mother was a very gentle soul, and my memories of her; though few; are all bathed in her kindness, I fancy. My father is a bit more stern, a solider with a very neat view on how a young man's life ought to proceed. It's a very common story, I daresay. But I was raised in principle by my Uncle and Grandmother; very good people.
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[He pushes a hand through his hair, vaguely embarrassed.]
In any case. Would you mind showing me some of your poetry at some point? I didn't know you were a poet, to be frank; I'd love to hear some. Read some. Whichever.
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[He smiled at him, thinking that story incredibly sweet, in fact. His parents must be proud indeed.
Granted, he colours directly after.]
A-ah. Yes, a poet by study and trade, though-- though I can't promise I am really very good. Are you sure you'd want to read that?
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[He smiled still, despite some obvious embarrassment, and nodded his ascent.]
I will try to fit it to English meter, though I am talentless at it. You are from Britain, are you not?
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