FINN
We will spare the preamble of the weather. It's cold outside - cold enough that when Finn arrives home in the dark, his fingers are numb even beneath his gloves. The house is warmly lit, though, and he sets down his frosty guitar by the side of the door and stamps the snow from his boots. I am home, is what he would call were it the hour for it, but he's finished his performance quite late tonight, and besides, he isn't sure whether or not Tobi is home from her rounds.
Ever is home, that must should be true anyway, but his son won't speak to him regardless unless it's in a beautifully handwritten (and therefore painfully corrected) note. His voice is breaking, or that's what Finn suspects given his own reaction to such a thing when he was growing up. And so rather than disturbing anyone, the ex-Spyglass pours himself a glass of water and pads down the hall to the room he shares with October.
Snow is still melting in his hair when he steps into the bedroom, and he hides his shivering behind acts of movement; unlacing his boots, pulling off his gloves, shrugging out of his coat and so on.
Ever is home, that must should be true anyway, but his son won't speak to him regardless unless it's in a beautifully handwritten (and therefore painfully corrected) note. His voice is breaking, or that's what Finn suspects given his own reaction to such a thing when he was growing up. And so rather than disturbing anyone, the ex-Spyglass pours himself a glass of water and pads down the hall to the room he shares with October.
Snow is still melting in his hair when he steps into the bedroom, and he hides his shivering behind acts of movement; unlacing his boots, pulling off his gloves, shrugging out of his coat and so on.
