03-22-2016, 09:18 AM
Once Nick knows, it is only a matter of time before Arianna finds out, too. Not that Thane is here, no, no, this is earlier than that, but that Thane is coming. It is probably in the middle of some important and very Hermetic conversation; something regarding the tipping point of the balance of light and darkness, or the aspects of Aries as fire overtakes the fish (swish swish [goodbye Pisces] ). It is probably in the middle of a conversation they know so well and have tread so many times that the next words (waves to Wands [ wave goodbye to Water] ) are queued and readied when Pen, who is like glass, who is like lake light, who is splendid and resplendent and occasionally quite good with secrets, drops this, pebble in a pond, just to watch the ripples and ...
...
"Thane is...?" As if she hadn't quite heard. Repeated for confirmation. Repeated just because it is close to the time of April and Fools. And then, as if the pause and silence that lingers between them for only half a heartbeat is sufficient to stand as confirmation, her smile splits wide and there is revelry to her eyes, and she laughs, a little pleased and happy thing, laughs and claps her hands together, pleased. So pleased. "Thane is coming to visit!"
And then? The tumble of questions, most left unanswered, and some sort of making of half-baked and unlikely plans, and then back, of course, to the importance of thresholds even in such broad a sense as Seasons--as time is the greatest of the unmarked and measured circles, surely, is it not?--and Time waits for no man (save those with mastery of Ars Temporis ), but always with the underlying joy that Thane is coming, as Spring is coming; that he will be returned to them, on loan for a moment, just borrowed from his farms and fields and groves (both indoors and out ).
So yes. She knows. She knows that he is coming; knows enough to make ready a guest room, to keep it on notice, to have it staged to deploy at any moment. But she doesn't know he is coming now. Does not know he has landed at the airport, and weathered the ungracious security; that Thane is imminent. On this, she is still mired in darkness.
...
"Thane is...?" As if she hadn't quite heard. Repeated for confirmation. Repeated just because it is close to the time of April and Fools. And then, as if the pause and silence that lingers between them for only half a heartbeat is sufficient to stand as confirmation, her smile splits wide and there is revelry to her eyes, and she laughs, a little pleased and happy thing, laughs and claps her hands together, pleased. So pleased. "Thane is coming to visit!"
And then? The tumble of questions, most left unanswered, and some sort of making of half-baked and unlikely plans, and then back, of course, to the importance of thresholds even in such broad a sense as Seasons--as time is the greatest of the unmarked and measured circles, surely, is it not?--and Time waits for no man (save those with mastery of Ars Temporis ), but always with the underlying joy that Thane is coming, as Spring is coming; that he will be returned to them, on loan for a moment, just borrowed from his farms and fields and groves (both indoors and out ).
So yes. She knows. She knows that he is coming; knows enough to make ready a guest room, to keep it on notice, to have it staged to deploy at any moment. But she doesn't know he is coming now. Does not know he has landed at the airport, and weathered the ungracious security; that Thane is imminent. On this, she is still mired in darkness.