certified sad boy hours

It's the squeaky little bark that alerts the godling to his nieces presence, in all truth. So wrapped up in his own thoughts, he hadn't heard the commotion of awkward stumbling paws trailing behind. Otherwise he may have slowed, even stopped, to allow her to catch up. Willowy limb extends, parts the overhanging curtain of willow boughs to allow the sightless child to step within the safe embrace of the ancient tree. She greets him oh so formally, reminding him very little of her mother and very much of himself, always with the pleasantries and formalities. It brings a soft smile to his features, visible in the subtle upward curve of dark lips and crinkling around the corner of one eye. Not that Pythia can see it, but that hardly stops such a reflexive expression. He sighs quietly, more to himself than anything, when she asks if there is something plaguing him. Poor girl, so insightful despite her age. Like him, and that is a burden he wouldn't wish on another so readily.

He makes a point to emphasize the motion of patting the ground at his side with one pale paw, letting the rough pads brush against the frost-laden grasses to create crisp susurrations that would help her find that spot. The violet dappled priest tries to cast his thoughts to happier things, to lighten his mood for the sake of the little one. And yet.. there's that urge to use this as a teaching moment. He truly is his mother's son. "You needn't concern yourself with such adult matters, dear Thia." he croons gently, folding his forelimbs closer to his chest as he settles more comfortably in the shade of the willow tree. It's true, children shouldn't have to face the troubles of adults- it's how he and Modesty wound up so troubled as they grew, no doubt. Politics and religion and family drama. "In truth, I am quite troubled this morning. Many mornings before it, as well, but most notably on these dreary and cold days." he begins to explain, and if the pale child is comfortably situated he would seek to nuzzle the top of her head. "It is quite common, but it is especially common among those of us who God has deemed to be seers and planners. When the months grow cold and the sun is often hidden, our minds often seek to mirror the gloom. To make trouble with the possibilities of the future, or simply to leave a lingering malaise- that is, a sensation of sadness or anxiety that persists for a long period." though the concepts might be overly complex for such a small child, Pontifex sought to simplify what he could for his niece.

"If you find yourself feeling this way, inexplicably gripped by an ever-present gloom or perhaps despair, do not fret." he said, and the words were more to reassure himself than they might have been for Pythia's sake. Yes, he needed to speak these words aloud and thusly speak them into existence. Long, silken tresses of fur slipped smoothly over the ground as he tucked his elongated tail close to his thigh. The chains that decorated his body made a gentle tinkling sound as they slid across his fur, the tiny interconnected links of silver colliding and separating as they sought a new arrangement against the svelte musculature of his form. "I have found that it is best to seek out some company in these dark hours. No matter how silly it may feel to ask for someone to sit by the fireside and drink some tea, or to go for a walk through a territory you have not visited in a little while and soak up the sunshine. Sometimes you need only feel the sensations of warm sunlight on your coat, and hear the laughter of loved ones, to banish these feelings of sadness that often find us in the winter." his tone was gentle, whisper soft. That was how Pontifex spoke, like a ghost of a wolf who carried few qualms over whether or not he would be heard. Again, he found himself smiling just a little, the tension in his shoulders easing somewhat. The company worked wonders, just as he had told her.

"I apologise for letting this turn into a lecture, sweet one. Did you come here with questions of another sort?" there was a flicker of embarrassment in his chest, earrings jingling as one aud tipped back for a moment. There he was, realizing that he had rambled quite extensively, when little Pythia certainly did not need to hear of his seasonal mood swings. Ah, but it was too late now. He may as well move forwards, and answer whatever queries his niece had brought with her on this surprise visit.

"Pontifex" || "Hallux" || "Pollux"