MATEO
"What do you suppose we are meant to do on a date?" Mateo asks, hopping from one plank to another as they head onto the Brittlebone Bridge. "My dads always make a big deal out of them, but then again I guess they don't get to go on dates all too often. But they usually go out, so I don't really know what they get up to." (Which is a good thing, Mateo - you absolutely don't want to).
Reaching out, the boy lets his fingers whisper down the curtain of vines closest to him, his touch feather light as he examines the petals of the nearest flower. "I wonder where all of these come from," he murmurs, already distracted by the beauty of the flora, tipping his head back as if he might see the origin of the vines.
It makes him dizzy, though, and he trips over one of the planks and nearly goes pinwheeling off the side of the bridge. "Ooof, don't do that."
Reaching out, the boy lets his fingers whisper down the curtain of vines closest to him, his touch feather light as he examines the petals of the nearest flower. "I wonder where all of these come from," he murmurs, already distracted by the beauty of the flora, tipping his head back as if he might see the origin of the vines.
It makes him dizzy, though, and he trips over one of the planks and nearly goes pinwheeling off the side of the bridge. "Ooof, don't do that."
the earth has music for those who listen
