In Which Octavius Makes Note of the Only Thought

January 28, 1173

"Good morning."

"Likewise." Not even a nod of the head or a backward glance accompanied Severin's reply. His eyes seemed to be fixated on an open book in front of him, his right hand to his chin and his left grasping a quill, scribbling a note between the lines of the page. A stack of books sat on the other side of the table; Severin opened the topmost one to a dog-eared leaf, scanned it, then jotted down something else.

Octavius closed the door, then strode forward to skim the spines of the tomes. Most were written in Hebrew or Greek--nothing that Roderick might have wanted reviewed, and probably nothing that Severin would have picked up for the sheer pleasure of it either. And yet, whatever it was he was busying himself with, he was engrossed. Curious, Octavius stepped around Severin and glanced down at the open book, recognizing it immediately. "What are you doing with that?"

Severin set down the quill and sighed. "Taking notes."

Octavius's brow twitched. His own reverence, he had realized one night as he lay tormented by the toxic sounds of Holladrin's cough, tended to depend on his wife's health--cycling in spiritual peaks and near-atheistic valleys. Presently, he was somewhere in the middle: not pious enough to find any blasphemous comment of Severin's too scandalous, but not quite so skeptical as to play along. "In a Bible?"

"Just for my own personal reference." Severin gave one of the passages a last look-over before pushing the Bible to the back of the desk. "It's a changing world. I used to think that all these books and chapters contradicted each other in some divine ploy to test our collective idiocy, but I see now that what might have been applicable to one time won't necessarily be applicable to all the times that follow--our own included. That, and some of the translations aren't exactly accurate; certain Hebrew words don't have any counterparts in our language, vice versa, that sort of thing.

"But enough about my personal projects." His hand latched onto Octavius's arm and turned him away from the open Bible before any of his smudged left-handed scrawls could be untangled into proper text; perhaps the revisions were more 'personal' than Severin cared to admit. "I take it you didn't come all the way out here unannounced to read my heretical footnotes. What can I do for you?"

It was true. Inquiring though he may have felt, he did have his own business to attend to--his own personal business, at that. "It's my daughter, Thallie. You're, err... aware that she seems to have taken to worshiping your Riona, are you not?"

Severin's mouth curled into a frown, his eyes darting to the ceiling and back in their exasperation. The man had more than his fair share of children to keep track of, but such a reaction was a blinding testament to just how well he knew each and every one of them. "What did she do this time?"

"Oh, nothing I'd recommend any harsh punishment for," Octavius did his best to reassure him. He didn't think that Riona was a bad kid. On the contrary--and especially considering Holladrin's inconsistent health, Jeda's sham of a marriage, and whatever the hell was happening with Sparron--he was quite grateful to her for taking his younger daughters under her wing. But all of Severin's children had an impish streak in them, and Riona was... well, no exception, to say the very least. "It's just that my little girl has something of a runaway imagination, and some of the bedtime stories Riona has been telling her--"

"--have her begging to spend the night with you and Holladrin." His hand flew to his forehead and pushed back his hair in frustration; Octavius caught sight of the occasional fleck of gray amidst the black. "We've had similar incidents with the twins. I'll have a talk with her, but it probably won't do much; you might have to just start sending her home earlier."

"I shall." The idea wouldn't sit well with Thallie and Pandora, but the nightmares were getting rather out-of-hand. Besides, surely Riona would grow out of it soon? "But I wouldn't worry about it too much. It's probably just a phase."

"That's what I keep telling myself, at any rate." Severin's brow furrowed, his hands clasping together like the jaws of some monstrous beast. It was as if he was trying to decide whether to be angry or disappointed, or perhaps to prevent himself from being either. "But if it is a phase, then it's beginning to grow to a troubling length. I'm sorry for what she's been doing to Thallie, and I'll try to think of a suitable punishment, but nothing ever works with her."

Not really sure how to respond, Octavius scuffed his boot against the floorboard. "She's just spirited."

"Her siblings are spirited. You'd need to come up with a whole new word for Riona."

"Perhaps, but it isn't as if she's malicious." He hoped he knew what he was talking about. To his great fortune, Octavius's own children had always been among the most well-behaved in the kingdom, and he could only imagine what it might be like to be a parent to girl such as Riona. At the same time, however, he liked to think that no child was ever a lost cause; some days, if he walked into a room to find his son moping on the couch, it was the only thought that kept him going. "She's a little wild, but she does have a kind heart. I know that you and Nora and your children all realize that, but I just want to let you know that the rest of us can see that too. She's a good kid, Severin."

"She is, deep down." An almost wistful look crept forth from his eyes and spread across the rest of his face. As if some great burden had been lifted, his lips twitched upward, relieved. "They all are."

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