Need to fancy it up

“That’s adorable” Mercury said, a light grin lifting his muzzle as he looked at the strips she was working on. “Are the wreaths usually multicoloured or uniform?” He asked. If Anthea was going to be sticking around, then it would be good to know in which ways he could honour her customs. He watched her work for a moment, admiring the assured motions of her paws as she worked in the feathers and flowers. It would take him more than a few tries to get it right, but he could get an idea of the method by watching her.

“My…” He started to say, distracted enough in the watching that the question had caught him unawares. He cleared his throat, and wondered how to proceed. He had traversed so carefully around the subject anytime someone brought it up. He often found himself warring with the pain, and the desire to keep their memory alive. And perhaps in Anthea, he would have someone who understood without tripping over her regrets in the asking.

“I suppose I have a story to tell that is similar to the one we are unravelling with you.” He said. Turning his attention back to the frame of his wind chime. It was easier to speak if he kept his hands and mind busy. He turned it in his paws a few times, checking the strength of its shape before typing the tassels that would hold the swaying gems. “The youngest of four, I set my sights on other ways to distinguish myself from my siblings.” he began, the images of those siblings flashing through his mind. So often he was at war with them, but all he felt for them now was sorrow and love. “I learned trading and diplomacy, and spent much of my time going from shore to shore. It’s for this reason that I survived when they did not.” another pause, longer this time. “There was an eruption from the volcano seated directly behind my pack. I was at sea, and the ash and molten rock that fell damaged my ship. By the time we found land, I was the last of my crew.” he brushed his forpaws along his hind legs, as if to clear them of dust. “So, all I have left of them are our traditions. I wonder if Artorias will come to regret giving me space to hang so many windchimes?” He gave her a lopsided smile, realising as he did so that his eyes were blurry. He found himself watching her wearily, afraid he had said too much.


"Speech"