The cry of an excited child made Aethalos turn. It always astounded her, seeing children thus. The young she had known always were far more behaved, or rather, controlled, in their expressions of wild joy and untempered sorrow. She felt a strange stirring, close to rage, but far more benign - it was the longing to protect, just as it was the regret of not being able to return to those she had failed in the past. She greeted the boy with a nod, the same gesture she extended to his mother. To the former Knight-Penitent, there was no real need to treat adults and children differently, in the most important things. After all, children would soon learn the truth of the world, and there was no virtue in hiding its cruelties from them. Instead, they should be prepared, strengthened and nurtured to face it head-on.
"Great Serpent! Earth Mother has told us that you promised to show the seas to me!" exclaimed the lad, teeth bared in an enthusiastic grin. His voice rose with each word he spoke. "Can I ride on your head? I want to go see what's down there, down in the ocean!" The boy's mother then stepped forward, grasping her son and shushing him with a shake of her head.
"So sorry, Great Serpent of the Seas!" she said, her eyes wide with embarrassment and a tinge of fear. It was her first time seeing the Regalia of Leviathan in person, and the tall woman could not be more different from the far friendlier Laura. "My son only loves the waters so. Please forgive his impatience."
In response, Aethalos reached out, her warm hand touching the woman's shoulder. Its metal counterpart drew out the gesture for the serpent of the seas, an invocation of peace.
"I forgive it," she whispered, reassuring the woman, while still striving to preserve the distant, authoritative image Votara wished for her to uphold. In truth, it was not so difficult, as Aethalos had always been cold, at least in the words she used. "If your son wishes to speak to me, let him come. I have time."
At this, the lad wrenched free from his mother's grasp, surging forth and peppering Aethalos with questions unending.
"Have you seen what's at the bottom? How do you hold your breath? When you fly, how can you do it without wings? Can you tie yourself into a knot? Why did Leviathan choose you?"
The last question struck a chord within Aethalos, and she held up a hand to initiate a pause.
"First, what is your name?" she asked, eyes studying the boy with an intimidating, but open gaze. "You must introduce yourself first, if you wish to ask for knowledge or blessings."
At this, the boy blushed, sputtering for a while, before proceeding to reply with newfound determination. From behind him, his mother looked on in a mix of worry and pride.
"I am Jacob Sanford," he said, his smile muted now, though his eyes still shone with hope. "I want to know more about the ocean! And you!"
"Well met, Jacob Sanford. I am Aethalos Vephariel," she replied, keeping a stoic expression, but granting the boy a small token of acknowledgment by casting her full focus upon him. "The bottom of the ocean is vast. I have seen a point or two... but the time it would take me to survey the whole floor of the ocean would be far better used in service of the people." Aethalos nodded at the Votaran guard, as if to say look, I'm hitting all the soundbites here, cut me some slack, though she returned her attentions back to Jacob before he could question her focus. "I hold my breath the same way you do. I do not know how Leviathan grants flight, but yes, I could tie myself into a knot in that form. Theoretically - but I will never do so. And finally... I know not Leviathan's will. I only serve as its instrument, the same way a cup holds water for those who thirst and wish to drink."
She offered the boy her ceremonial flask; there were others to replace it, and it would mean far more to him and his mother to have it than for her to keep it. The item was worth a small fortune, but surely, no one would stop the Regalia from making such a gesture.
"Here. A mouth that speaks too much and asks endless questions will eventually run dry. Consider the silence that comes when you drink of life, and there, in that silence, sometimes... the answers to your questions will also be found."
Aethalos then turned away to leave, ignoring the mother's shout of thanks and the boy's jubilant cheers. It filled her with warmth, to have them feel special, but she could not allow such attachments. She was to be a distant figure, one of impartial benevolence and strength, never to indulge in the excesses of joy nor sorrow. Instead, Aethalos embraced the constancy of impermanence; as she let her dissatisfaction wash over her, she found it replaced with a small contentment. At the very least, she had made someone's day, and with luck, this small incident would push the boy and his mother closer together, making a memory that would last the inevitable storms of life.
Charley
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