It will occur to Octavius, in a minute or two, that Byerly could be lying to him. It's the sort of ploy his mother would have expected him to prepare himself for, and indeed something he would have expected in another life, in another city full of asps. But Octavius is, regrettably, not enough like either of his parents to play every role that is expected of him, particularly not after the last six months. And so there is not a shred of artifice in the nearly incandescent smile that lights up his face at this news, brightening his eyes and infusing him with renewed joie de vivre, or something. This news has made his day.
Then the other shoe drops, because of course it does, and his smile withers, wilts, and then falls away. Anxiety twists his lips into a grimace, and the wary fear returns to his eyes. "That's none of--" he starts to snap back, before stopping himself. Really, at this point, what does he have to lose? He's already a prisoner, and his years spent in Nevarra clearly haven't rendered him capable of passing as Nevarran in public anyway.
He looks down at his fingers, which have been fidgeting without his permission. "I'm looking for my father," he admits. "He was a prisoner here, some years ago."
byerly deserves not only some small measure of joy, but also love. and jewelry
It will occur to Octavius, in a minute or two, that Byerly could be lying to him. It's the sort of ploy his mother would have expected him to prepare himself for, and indeed something he would have expected in another life, in another city full of asps. But Octavius is, regrettably, not enough like either of his parents to play every role that is expected of him, particularly not after the last six months. And so there is not a shred of artifice in the nearly incandescent smile that lights up his face at this news, brightening his eyes and infusing him with renewed joie de vivre, or something. This news has made his day.
Then the other shoe drops, because of course it does, and his smile withers, wilts, and then falls away. Anxiety twists his lips into a grimace, and the wary fear returns to his eyes. "That's none of--" he starts to snap back, before stopping himself. Really, at this point, what does he have to lose? He's already a prisoner, and his years spent in Nevarra clearly haven't rendered him capable of passing as Nevarran in public anyway.
He looks down at his fingers, which have been fidgeting without his permission. "I'm looking for my father," he admits. "He was a prisoner here, some years ago."