Tales from the Former Universe

41. Stories for the Horizon

Arlaion was finishing his last piece of apple on his tray, while Royyega lay down, enjoying her very soothing afternoon without one in Arlaion's shoulders, until she let go, and looked at Arlaion as he ate. Arlaion glanced back at Royyega after, noticing that face she was making to him.

"Hmm, what exactly are you doing—" Arlaion wondered.

Royyega immediately leaned and gave a deep peck of Arlaion's lips and teeth out of his attention. "Amazing, you look, not gonna lie."

"Of course, when are we not be," Arlaion humored.

They walked on the corridors to return the tray, Royyega, arms close to Arlaion, and Arlaion, still toeing around her hands like a solemn waltz.

"Arlaion, teach me, someday you must," Royyega wished.

"Hmm, of what?" Arlaion wondered.

"You know," Royyega winked.

"It comes naturally, Royyega," Arlaion said. "Or am I stealing your attention?"

"You always try," Royyega giggled.

Then they stopped at the bulletin board, finally seeing the poster yet again. Royyega stared a long glimpse, eyes full on every content of the poster, while Arlaion observed.

"Royyega... your choice, the plausible and the prospect, I will be ready, and I will always be by you," Arlaion pro,ised her. "Well... those snobs, I hopefully believe won't conceive my father into beating me again."

"Thank you," Royyega took the poster for herself. "It's a chance," she held on, "if we do it together."

"Then together, we shall and ought thou," Arlaion promised.

For almost a year, Hwillfyrd had gone on a long hiatus from ever returning on the pursuit of careers and entrepreneurship, spending and settling most of it with his stepmother, giving him some solace. For the occasion, he prepared à l'Orange with her, with the finest winery, with the perfect duck he could buy in the market.

"Just simmer it as little—citrus smell, we wouldn't want too strong for the family," Lepille taught.

"Sincerely, I never knew, cooking exquisite food is about knowing flavors, not technique," Hwillfyrd spoke.

"There's much to know to craft 'fine dining,' " Lepille shared.

"The spoken, the only finery the world has," Hwillfyrd said. "We are accustomed to unity, we are accustomed to class, and we are accustomed to a most spoken colonial language millennia ago."

"Alternative, what could be, had it been le français?" Lepille wondered.

"We wouldn't be struggling on how to pronounce hors d'oeuvres when I was 12," Hwillfyrd amused.

Lepille wiped off the tints of cookery in his face.

"I appreciate your time with me," Lepille said. "Don't you... wish to come back?"

"Uncertain, as simple as thou," Hwillfyrd said. "A break, I could really make of use... for all the stupidity I made."

"Don't take mistakes with full regret, take it with acceptance, and move forward," Lepille said.

"I'll try with my arduous soul," Hwillfyrd said. "And mother..." he said, "I am trying... know that, do you not?"

"I already have," Lepille said. "There's nothing more, nothing less."

Hwillfyrd plated the à l'Orange to the plate.

"There's... too much fracture, now that both are not here," Hwillfyrd said. "It's hard sometimes."