#vinummagicae

"i was thinking about what you told me the other day,” amadeo leans in after finishing his water. he moves his hand up to ender’s lips, tracing his bottom lip before placing his index and middle finger flatly against the man’s face. “i don’t think it’s always the ideal choice. i mean, some people getting shut up by such proclivities is probably exactly what they want. you have to get them to start begging first, using the words you want to, before doing anything else.” the last part is whispered before he pushes himself back away from the man. 

It had been days since the too-personal return from Costa Rica and Viorel wasn’t sure how he felt. Ender was adamant he wasn’t leaving anytime soon; he took care of Sorin while he was away without so much as a complaint. He waited for him to get back per each mission, then the latest? It was almost too much. The man sat by the lake’s edge, watching as Sorin walked along the shore in the moonlight. He heard Ender nearby, but he didn’t say anything yet.

He wasn’t surprised if Ender wanted something, maybe to talk again.

“It’s late. Shouldn’t you be back in Voithos?” He said over his shoulder while lowering the sleeves of his shirt. 

“What do you mean, ‘but you do it, too’?!” Hudson’s voice was heard first, seemingly bickering with something unseen and unheard. “I---okay, okay, but my mom hasn’t come up to my father and told him I’m being lent out to him! Okay, but she hasn’t so it’s not the---” Hudson breaks through the bushes---alone---coming upon the hot springs and a familiar face. “Oh, hi.” A small, awkward wave. He wasn’t expecting anyone to come up here while it was still so damn cold out. “Uh...Kinnnnder?” he cringes at his own terrible guess. “That’s not right, that doesn’t sound right. “But, uh sorry if we’re interrupting.”

a part of him doesn’t know if it’s because he’s ordained or a son of hera. it could be the empathy. something is different and he’s too nosy to let it go by. that’s why he’s taken ender out yet again to another vineyard. this time he brought the wine with them to the patio instead of picking it out. 

If he didn’t have Sorin, Vio imagined this ‘adjustment’ period would be far worse.

He was coming back from the general store with his arms full of camping gear--tent, tarp, sleeping bag, and so on--likewise the intent to camp out. Where? It was in the works, but the other side of the lake sounded promising. Or close towards the memorial, from what he noticed. Vio stood near the center of camp with Sorin sitting beside him. His eyes surveyed the area, still deciding on a spot. How long will this take...?

The letter itself was simple: 

“Ender,

I know. I’m in the garden.

-Viorel”

He hated leaving camp for one reason: leaving Sorin. There were only so few people in his life--past and present--he dared let Sorin be with for more than a millisecond. Slowly but surely, Ender became one of those. The demigod returned to Voithos with little Galen perched on his shoulder, looking more like a Michael’s Styrofoam replica than a living, breathing thing. He adjusted his bag over his shoulder while walking down the dirt, nature-laden hall. “Ender, where is he?” He called, giving a sharp whistle for Sorin to come forward.