[ It stands out to him before the letters can even hit his desk.
It's been a while since the last batch he sent along, and for that, Wriothesley thinks Lyney should be full to the brim with bright hopeful energy for further communication with his siblings. He looks up from the last of his work, trains his eyes on the boy, searches for the grin in waiting or the cocky remark tucked just behind his tongue. What he finds instead is stony. Guarded.
Even in the evening, even cut off from the skies overhead entirely, it's...too early for this. Lyney is off. That much is apparent. He sets aside his feather pen, leans back in his seat to size him up again. He's not imagining things. That much he can say. ]
I'll be meeting with an associate in the overworld tommorrow, so these will come along with me. Rest assured.
[ But he gets the sense that Lyney won't. Wriothesley would like to think life in the Fortress has been a healthy thing for Lyney, a world where fair is fair and his efforts are rewarded in kind. A world where he can make his way on his own terms. But something has brought him backward, has paled the glow of his recent happiness. And that bothers Wriothesley more than he'd like to admit. A trend he's realizing is only too common with Lyney, and not getting any better with time.
For a moment, he hesitates. Now would be a good time to distance himself a little--to draw lines where they should already have been boldly painted--but what should be with Lyney seldom seems to be what is, and now is no exception. ]
no subject
It's been a while since the last batch he sent along, and for that, Wriothesley thinks Lyney should be full to the brim with bright hopeful energy for further communication with his siblings. He looks up from the last of his work, trains his eyes on the boy, searches for the grin in waiting or the cocky remark tucked just behind his tongue. What he finds instead is stony. Guarded.
Even in the evening, even cut off from the skies overhead entirely, it's...too early for this. Lyney is off. That much is apparent. He sets aside his feather pen, leans back in his seat to size him up again. He's not imagining things. That much he can say. ]
I'll be meeting with an associate in the overworld tommorrow, so these will come along with me. Rest assured.
[ But he gets the sense that Lyney won't. Wriothesley would like to think life in the Fortress has been a healthy thing for Lyney, a world where fair is fair and his efforts are rewarded in kind. A world where he can make his way on his own terms. But something has brought him backward, has paled the glow of his recent happiness. And that bothers Wriothesley more than he'd like to admit. A trend he's realizing is only too common with Lyney, and not getting any better with time.
For a moment, he hesitates. Now would be a good time to distance himself a little--to draw lines where they should already have been boldly painted--but what should be with Lyney seldom seems to be what is, and now is no exception. ]
...Everything alright?