Mozus 1
Summary: Being in Noble Bell College brings out the nostalgia in Mozus. You want him to continue. You like hearing him talk about his wife.
(I was going to write about Rollo since it seemed appropriate, but Mozus took place in my brain instead.)
“And while she never witnessed the bell, she was always enchanted by its sound,” Mozus’s voice was soft in the way one cups a flower blooming in the soft frost of winter: delicately, yet still filled with the strength of love.
“Oh? Tell me more,” you couldn’t help but lean into his view with an exaggerated stretch of your spine, arms gripped behind your back. “Remember, you promised me more stories about her, Mozus.”
Mozus didn’t twitch nor lose any gram of composure. His back was still straight, but it seemed as though gravity added weight to his shoulders. “I remember well. Though I must ask, why are you so interested about such a subject?”
“Because you practically grow twenty years younger whenever you talk about your wife,” it wasn’t a radiant glow so much as it was a gentle light that bloomed from within Mozus’s heart, blanketing his shoulders in a shroud of dancing spring air, “it’s very sweet, seeing how much you love her so. Of course I want to hear you talk about your fond memories all day.”
It was a rare thing to witness from Mozus, so of course you want him to continue speaking of those years, so as long as it doesn’t hurt him. He may be an older gentlemen, and while you don’t have a clue as to what age he became a widower, to lose his wife before the age of sixty seemed far too young to lose a loved one. When you hear of stories of old couples dying, you imagine their backs curved, hands knobby and skin slack with laugh lines so deep in their faces their eyes practically vanish, and yet the twinkle in them is still there.
You don’t know the amount of years that have past after Mozus’s wife’s death, but it seems to have been enough for him to have come to terms with his grief, to speak of her memory, both good and bad.
Perhaps it was too casual an action, lightly tapping your elbow on his arm to goad him into talking more stories, but there’s something about Mozus that you just can’t help but want to be a bother him a bit. And you’re happy when you heard that tired gruff of a sigh come out of him, like you’re an insistent kid from the playground that wanted to listen to stories instead of being on the monkey bars.
“Be patient,” Mozus shook his head but it wasn’t a verbal ‘no,’ “I’ll make do on my promise, but right now we’re on Noble Bell College’s campus, and we’d do well to listen to the years of history embedded within the walls and minds of the students here.”
“Gotcha gotcha,” you straightened yourself out, disappointed but not surprised, “I’ll be sure to remind you if you do forget. You lost that game of cards after all.”
He won’t, you’re sure of it, but you may as well give him a warning in advance that you’re going to be a bother until you get those stories.
Perhaps it was dirty of you to do that, coaxing Mozus into an old card game that just so happened to be relevant to the era he was teaching to Ace, Deuce and Grim, but you had gotten the cards as a gift from one of your faerie buddies and you couldn't pass up the opportunity that was presented to you.
Oh well, what can Mozus do besides complete his promise? Besides, he didn't say no to your request. You bet he does want to talk about her as much as you want to hear about it. Otherwise, why would he indulge you?
See, this is why Mozus is probably your favorite out of all your co-workers, barring his strict conduct.
