The light dwindles and splutters as he still stands there, as rooted in the leaf-strewn ground as the trees that surround him. Neither head nor eye has been pointed in his direction in all this time and it is certainly his fault, though not for the reason he thinks.
He always fails to remember his first year, when he was boisterous and outgoing, when he made friends with hardly any difficulty. He always believes that he has become an unlikeable person, that no one would entertain the idea of enduring the volatility of his moods. That is why he thinks no one approaches him now.
But his powers of introspection are flawed.
His aura alienates others by its immersion in grief and he does not remember that he was always the one to approach another, to offer a warm invitation to those of the standoffish ranks he has now joined. He has become content to let opportunities pass him by and has victimized himself now that his distant personality has quelled so many bids for his attention.
He has acquiesced to marinating in the flavor of his own sorrow instead of sampling the fresh, new seasonings that others have to offer.
So he is disappointed to be ignored, yet it is a self-fulfilling prophecy that further entrenches him in his delusions. He grumbles unintelligibly under his breath and spins to seek his fortune elsewhere, but Beqanna has other plans for him this day.
When she suddenly appears, he rocks his weight into a halfhearted rear of surprise and ends up taking several steps backward. He inadvertently bumps into a tree, which throws his balance off, but he recovers quickly enough and returns clumsily to all four feet with a heavy grunt.
“Oof, sorry!”
He studies her for a moment, the shock not quite overpowering the complex emotions behind his eyes. When she asks if he is alright, it is enough to add a warble of nervousness to the tone of his voice.
“No, but I’ll figure it out one of these days.”
It’s a simple enough answer, but rife with the implication that he wants her to delve deeper into the murky waters of his melancholy. And yet, he is not sure if he wants to discuss this with her, with a complete stranger. A sigh of reprimand echoes through his mind and dredges up a reminder of the task that has been set before him.
The crooked smile that is his trademark appears faintly on his lips and he tilts his own head as he speaks again, quietly but with a touch more confidence.
“I’m Eddie. Are you from Beqanna?”
@stevie