Of Clouds and Bells

XVI. Clouds

XVI. Clouds-

Fellan claimed it would take a week for Senn to ‘recover’--though he insisted he felt  fine, better than usual in fact. He tried not to complain often, however, as the lord as been as kind as to allow Amora to stay in the manor. There was no question about Senn’s housing. The former stablehand doubted the lord would let him leave considering his ‘condition’. He also doubted he could work in the circus any longer. he dread the good-byes, the very though making his gut twist at night.

Though Lord Fellan refused to tell him much in this one, calm week, Senn managed to observe many of the happenings inside the grand building--and much of the lord himself. He decided two things were constant about his behavior:

Emotions were the bane of the man’s existence. Rarely did he show any sort of feeling more intense than slight surprise or bewilderment--and even then, his face remained nearly as impassive as a mask, only an arched eyebrow and small frown betraying his thoughts. His voice maintained just enough infliction to be considered more human than a mythical automaton.

However, despite this odd quirk, he seemed fond of jesting, especially sarcasm. Often it would be randomly scattered throughout a conversation--and on occasion, jokes as well--said in his normal tone of voice so it was quite hard to detect them. And most times, they left Senn blinking in confusion.

Or recoiling in shock as Senn did that early morning when Fellan asked over breakfast:

“Why the long face?” To which Senn was forced a chuckle in reply and tried to focus on his meal rather than the urge to claw at his pale face. The lord, however, seemed unaware of the distress he caused his new ward as he spooned egg into his mouth and skimmed over a small piece of parchment. Florence--who Senn noticed often spent mornings in the Avelli manor--pursed her lips.

“Don’t be mean,” she chided, eating food from Fellan’s plate with a rather large amount of poise and grace considering her act of theft. She earned herself a glare.

“Don’t tell me you don’t find this the slightest bit amusing,” he asked, one thin eyebrow rising. “You hate the creatures too.”

Florence snorted in the most unladylike fashion. “That’s not the point.”

Senn frowned. “Such a hatred again the whole of a species is a bit irrational, won’t you agree?” he asked. Fellan had displayed nothing but contempt for horses and anything remotely connected to them since Senn had arrived. He was a very logical person, though, so he hoped questioning the lord’s reasoning would help his case.

“Phillip,” Fellan said intensely. “Every time I go near one of the things it stomps, snorts, bites and kicks. Why would I ever think very highly of one?” Senn blinked for a moment.

“Oh, right,” he said, finally putting everything together. “You’re one of... them.”

Florence frowned, making sure to respond before Fellan could managed a seething retort. “So are you, Phillip. You just aren’t quite used to it yet.”

Fellan finally looked up from his paper. “Are you insinuating that I’m doing a poor job tutoring him?”

“If I’m insinuating, then I have done a poor job,” Florence sniffed. “I meant to scream it--at the top of my lungs perhaps.” She paused as she took a seat on the table and took another bite of Fellan’s food.

“Fine,” Fellan said. “We’ll go to the charts today--how does that sound?”

“It sounds splendid,” Florence agreed. “And I have something to tell you once you get back.”