Oho? Yes, I suppose that's a word I can claim nowadays.
[With a neat twist of his hand, the hat flips. A flurry of golden butterflies blast out of it, their gleam stark against the darkness of Break's favored colors. Despite not knowing exactly who -- or what -- he's speaking to here, Break is at ease. Ange would never allow anyone who might be of a mind to hurt him to get close in this place, would never let such a being enter her realm at all. Bolstered by that trust in his witch, his movements are confident, as though bringing flying things out of a hat is as common a daily task as making tea.
And oh, what a treat to have an appreciative audience! Break has been able to impress Peter so in part because he wasn't all that different as a young man. Kevin Regnard was a quiet, lurking sort of creature, anxious and brooding, preferring nothing more than remaining in the background unnoticed and very rarely granted that wish. He sinks back into those tendencies at times, and it's how he's been able to relate to half the young people in his life. But Xerxes Break -- Kevin pried open and dragged into the light -- has a showman streak a mile wide. He's been doing magic tricks of some form or other for years now, well over a decade. The kindest parts of him remember a watery smile sneaking onto the face of a grieving girl in mourning for her mother when he threw his voice into the chattering doll who used to live on his shoulder, and the wide eyes of a boy with no memory who'd just lost everything as a man with one red eye emerged from the woods to soften a deal by making a bird pop out of his hat.
The darker parts of him treasure the control. Whatever it is looking at him now through Peter's unblinking eyes, Break has it transfixed, and it's a thrill.]
And what of you? [He sets both earrings and hat aside and lets the butterflies congregate on his hands.] Have you any words?
no subject
[With a neat twist of his hand, the hat flips. A flurry of golden butterflies blast out of it, their gleam stark against the darkness of Break's favored colors. Despite not knowing exactly who -- or what -- he's speaking to here, Break is at ease. Ange would never allow anyone who might be of a mind to hurt him to get close in this place, would never let such a being enter her realm at all. Bolstered by that trust in his witch, his movements are confident, as though bringing flying things out of a hat is as common a daily task as making tea.
And oh, what a treat to have an appreciative audience! Break has been able to impress Peter so in part because he wasn't all that different as a young man. Kevin Regnard was a quiet, lurking sort of creature, anxious and brooding, preferring nothing more than remaining in the background unnoticed and very rarely granted that wish. He sinks back into those tendencies at times, and it's how he's been able to relate to half the young people in his life. But Xerxes Break -- Kevin pried open and dragged into the light -- has a showman streak a mile wide. He's been doing magic tricks of some form or other for years now, well over a decade. The kindest parts of him remember a watery smile sneaking onto the face of a grieving girl in mourning for her mother when he threw his voice into the chattering doll who used to live on his shoulder, and the wide eyes of a boy with no memory who'd just lost everything as a man with one red eye emerged from the woods to soften a deal by making a bird pop out of his hat.
The darker parts of him treasure the control. Whatever it is looking at him now through Peter's unblinking eyes, Break has it transfixed, and it's a thrill.]
And what of you? [He sets both earrings and hat aside and lets the butterflies congregate on his hands.] Have you any words?