Mateo
His father paints a picture of bliss that's hard to rival, and Mateo's dreamy smile gives as much away; oppressive heat or not, the cool spray of a waterfall and freestanding ivy is as enviable as it is fantastical, and as they head up towards the Falling, the botanist can easily imagine reptilian silhouettes soaring overhead. "What could be worth stealing all the way up in the Cordillera?" he wonders with a bark of laughter. Granted, as alike as he and Remi are, there is no small part of Mateo that takes after the Huntsman, as well. (Just look at his social life as evidence).
"It sounds peaceful," he murmurs - and while the addition of literal dragons might make it a strange descriptor, Mateo knows his parents well enough to know that this is still preferable to war and leadership.
It doesn't take them long to step out onto the Falling, the sleepy, docked skyships creating the illusion of quiet and empty space, but of course come sunrise all of that will change quite quickly. Mateo leads them to an outcrop from the skyport that appears rarely used - as it should, given that Mateo's ship doesn't get much action in the sky, per say.
The little schooner is mostly obscured on one side by an outpouring of foliage; a curtain of lavender, carefully cultivated over the seasons. In the dark the vessel doesn't look like much, but despite having very little working knowledge of skyships - and an attention span of a gnat - the botanist has taken care of it well. "Here she is," he murmurs, almost bashfully.
"It sounds peaceful," he murmurs - and while the addition of literal dragons might make it a strange descriptor, Mateo knows his parents well enough to know that this is still preferable to war and leadership.
It doesn't take them long to step out onto the Falling, the sleepy, docked skyships creating the illusion of quiet and empty space, but of course come sunrise all of that will change quite quickly. Mateo leads them to an outcrop from the skyport that appears rarely used - as it should, given that Mateo's ship doesn't get much action in the sky, per say.
The little schooner is mostly obscured on one side by an outpouring of foliage; a curtain of lavender, carefully cultivated over the seasons. In the dark the vessel doesn't look like much, but despite having very little working knowledge of skyships - and an attention span of a gnat - the botanist has taken care of it well. "Here she is," he murmurs, almost bashfully.
i've told you time and time again
i'm not as think as you drunk i am
i'm not as think as you drunk i am
