[@Adeline] [@Eviledd1984]

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	[color=39b54a]“She’s quite an amazing muse,”[/color] Loke began. [color=39b54a]“I would know from personal experience. You have a very keen eye.”[/color]

	[i]I couldn’t agree more[/i], Caelum thought.

	Loke had lived several centuries longer. The older Caelum got, the more he found he understood his elder. He did his best to gradually be more and more carefree.

	Caelum continued his sketch, his head lowered—hiding a soft smile—over his charcoal sketches, his eyes occasionally glancing up across the lagoon.

	A moment later, Loke sprung up, swapped his pipe for his violin in an instant, and began to play and dance. Jarring, perhaps, but not when one was familiar with this particular sparrowman.

	Caelum raised his head and lowered his paper, his smile widening at the Lagoon’s sudden bloom of jovial levity. As he watched, he noted Loke’s face beckoning across the way. Caelum’s own darted in that direction as well. Suddenly… [i]something[/i] was pulling him across the Lagoon.

	The Lagoon Fairy had faltered briefly as Loke began his jig; and with her so did that new feeling. It shuttered within his chest, like the flame of a lantern desperately clinging to life in a strong gust. 

	The feeling grew once more as the little frog burst forth from her arms and happily hopped its way over with its unusual, determined gait. He watched her sigh with resigned exasperation, and felt the moment settle. Caelum’s flame recovered, that unknown feeling growing anew.

	[i]Thanks, little one[/i], Caelum thought, his gaze softening toward the frogling who had carried the moment across.

	Caelum became aware of the sketches in his hand once again. He glanced down at the paper, suddenly aware of how visible it was. The sketch—half-formed, honest—caught in the open air like a secret whispered too loud.

	His hand twitched, the instinct to shield it rising like a blush. But he didn’t. Not fully. The paper tilted. His fingers lingered. The image remained half-shown.

	Because… [i]why?[/i] He dared to be more like Loke, even if only a little. After all, he sketched what the Hollow gave him; and today, it had given him [i]her[/i].

	Caelum’s face didn’t betray his gently fluttering heart. That was until she had arrived in all her shimmering, soaking glory and barely uttered the word: 

	[b]“Hello.”[/b]

	It was as if his sketches had finally spokem back. His typical mask only faltered slightly, and only for the tiniest moment. Her voice—so close now—and the scent of the Lagoon clung to her, carried on the subtle breeze stirred by her vibrant wings. Caelum’s face betrayed the joy they brought, if only for a flicker.

	Almost inaudible over the joyous din of Loke’s fiddle, Caelum had instinctively leaned in, unwilling to miss the hushed sound of her voice—one he’d only ever heard in fragments, carried across the water to his home like drifting notes of a half-remembered song. Had he not seen her mouth move, he might have missed it entirely.

	[color=D86B3E]“Welcome,”[/color] Caelum replied, mirroring her simple greeting in a low tone. His natural timbre—deeper than hers—and a deliberate, slight over-enunciation helped carry his word a little better over the song.

	[color=D86B3E]“It’s,”[/color] he began slowly, [color=D86B3E]“nice to finally meet you.”[/color]

	He had been searching for the right words—hoping not to scorch the moment with too hot a flame now that it had finally arrived. His usual demeanor had remained intact, though his words were flecked with just a touch more warmth than he had anticipated. Unintentional... [i]but not regrettable[/i]. His sincerity had flickered through, steady and warm.


	He now simply watched and listened, with the slightest smile peacefully resting on his face.

	[i]Hope.[/i]

	That was the nameless thing he was feeling. Not new. Just forgotten. Like an abandoned campfire rekindled after a long, quiet dusk.