Everest
Ever is not confused, but rather has been paralyzed by the amount of change forced onto him.
Day 1 he'd had to deal with the cold, new surroundings, and new food. Though he'd thought about Mateo almost the entire time, his every single waking moment had been focused on not combusting.
Week 1: Having lived out of his suitcase, Ever had tried and failed to begin a new routine living in the Kraai, if only because he knew that his time there would come to an end. Not wanting to be an inconvenience or appear ignorant, the boy hadn't managed to find any paper with which to write Mateo a letter, despiting penning the words over and over in his mind.
Weeks 2-4: A new house. New noises and smells and shadows. It's overwhelming. The sheets on his bed are unfamiliar and Ever's dreams are filled with visions of Mateo shoving him out of his life, or accusing Ever of having abandoned him.
Month 2: Having concluded that Mateo hated him (he'd sent one letter and hadn't heard back; despite the likelihood of the bird simply having not made it to his friend, Ever is confident that it had, and that Mateo has simply cut ties with him), Ever has begun drowning himself in the study and research of skyships, thinking that if he can sail to Mateo, that will somehow fix this entire mess.
It's entirely unreasonable, but it gives Ever something to think about.
"Lunch isn't for another 24 minutes." Ever murmurs in response to the knock on his door, not looking up from behind his wall of books and structural drawings of skyships.
Day 1 he'd had to deal with the cold, new surroundings, and new food. Though he'd thought about Mateo almost the entire time, his every single waking moment had been focused on not combusting.
Week 1: Having lived out of his suitcase, Ever had tried and failed to begin a new routine living in the Kraai, if only because he knew that his time there would come to an end. Not wanting to be an inconvenience or appear ignorant, the boy hadn't managed to find any paper with which to write Mateo a letter, despiting penning the words over and over in his mind.
Weeks 2-4: A new house. New noises and smells and shadows. It's overwhelming. The sheets on his bed are unfamiliar and Ever's dreams are filled with visions of Mateo shoving him out of his life, or accusing Ever of having abandoned him.
Month 2: Having concluded that Mateo hated him (he'd sent one letter and hadn't heard back; despite the likelihood of the bird simply having not made it to his friend, Ever is confident that it had, and that Mateo has simply cut ties with him), Ever has begun drowning himself in the study and research of skyships, thinking that if he can sail to Mateo, that will somehow fix this entire mess.
It's entirely unreasonable, but it gives Ever something to think about.
"Lunch isn't for another 24 minutes." Ever murmurs in response to the knock on his door, not looking up from behind his wall of books and structural drawings of skyships.
the words you speak
become the house you live in
become the house you live in
