Backdated to June 6
Tiny silver leaves had fallen into the river, only Julian couldn't find any trees overhead with foliage that matched the tiny, bolting arrows in the water.
He frowned, because he hadn't brought his net, so he couldn't clear them out and check on the progress of the eggs nestled safely (hopefully) at the bottom of the riverbed.
Cyril stood on the edge of the river, arms across his chest, with one brow raised.
He waited for Julian to catch up, and it took an embarrassing minute and a half for Julian to realize that if they were leaves, they'd have been moving downstream with the current.
They were fish.
Tiny, silver slivers, sometimes flashing with color when the sunlight caught them just right.
Julian still didn't believe it.
He crouched down by the water and stared for a minute. He stood up again, and then moved two feet to the left to do it again.
Cyril let him. He'd long since grown accustomed to silence, but Julian didn't need to speak to have a gentle presence. Really, Cyril was pleased to watch Julian try to come to terms with the fact that the eggs hatched.
All those months of worrying, and he had the indisputable proof that something good had come of it.
So fixed on the fish, Julian was oblivious to the kaleidoscope of butterflies that had taken up residence in the area. They fluttered from his side of the river to the other, pearlescent wings casting a rainbow of color overhead.
Dering was beautiful. It always had been, but for so long it had been a pale imitation of itself.
There was more color now. Cyril didn't think Julian saw it, despite how attentive and hardworking he was when it came to tending to the Wonder.
Julian was so fixed on how much work still needed to be done. He never celebrated his victories, of which Cyril had tallied many.
The only number Julian seemed to keep in mind was how many failures he'd seen, and how many things he still needed to do.
Cyril understood. He had a list like that, too.
He'd just been here for long enough that seeing Dering like this was worth noticing. Was worth appreciating.
After a minute more, Julian went to the cameras and fumbled with them to try and see the video, like he could only believe it if he could witness them hatching--and he could. Soleiyu's cameras picked it up. The eggs started wiggling more earlier this week, almost right after Julian left, and while they'd started out as tiny little things that stayed close to their eggs, they'd rapidly grown throughout the week. Even now, the largest was only half the size of Julian's pinky, but it was enormous compared to where they'd been less than a week earlier.
Julian watched the video in high speed, and even without prompting he'd angled the screen so Cyril could watch the development. It wasn't quite a nature documentary, but it was close enough, and Julian almost rewound it to watch again before he came to his senses. It all hit him at once, but he turned away before Cyril could see how overwhelmed he was. Julian splashed water on his face. He breathed. He scrubbed at his face.
And then, the questions.
Julian had so many--but this was preferable to his silence. There had been several times over the last few months that Cyril worried about Julian, who would drift into a quiet, dutiful spell. There was no light in his eyes, and his face was blank, and he worked. And worked, and worked and worked. He had to be reminded to sit down, to drink, to eat.
He listened well enough, and always obeyed. He just needed a reminder to slow down and take care of himself sometimes.
Not now, Cyril mused. When Julian pulled out his pen and a notebook, he also pulled out a small bag of pretzels and a bottle of water. He was already seated on the ground, but he stretched out his legs briefly, rolled his shoulders, and then settled cross-legged. He'd arrived stiff, so they decided not too much labor. He'd only gone out with Zac on a few contracts and the work hadn't been easy for him, but he hadn't complained. He liked having something to do. He liked learning.
He liked Zac trusting him.
He liked Zac wanting him there. Or, at least, tolerating him.
Julian wasn't the most useful assistant--Riker would have been much better--but Julian liked some of the work. He could help move things, he could clean, he could organize. Zac wouldn't let him make any mistakes that could mess things up.
Questions about the fish came and went. Julian had more questions about them, about other creatures that used to live at Dering. Cyril pointed out the butterflies once, and Julian looked at them like he'd never seen them before.
Or, maybe he was only just now realizing how many there were.
They talked about them, next. Only, Cyril called them Sylphora.
Julian had never stayed long enough to see, but apparently they glowed at night. There were other species--kinds Julian had never seen, never heard of, but Cyril made them sound beautiful.
So the questions continued, until Julian wistfully said, "I wish I could bring them up to see."
Cyril tilted his head. He didn't ask who. It didn't matter who.
He liked his peace. Sometimes, he could be moved enough to humor company. Riker hadn't been bad, even if they'd butted heads a bit.
Julian didn't ask for much. It was hard to tell him no.
Cyril did it anyway.
When Julian finally worked up the nerve to ask if he could, maybe, bring anyone up sometime, Cyril 'preferred not', which might as well have been a hard no for as quickly as Julian dropped it.
A part of Cyril expected at least a few more questions about it. Maybe even gentle pushback. They were close enough for it, weren't they?
...No, maybe not.
Or maybe Julian didn't know how to. It certainly wasn't that he didn't care enough about it. He was just so quick to bury the thought as soon as it caused any ounce of discomfort--apologized, even. Cyril hovered around the topic for a bit, giving him the chance to revisit it, but Julian didn't. He stopped asking questions for a while. Stopped talking, too. Put away his notebook. Didn't touch his food again, so he packed up the half-eaten bag of pretzels. He did have a few more sips of water, but soon that too went away.
He watched the fish for a bit, knees drawn to his chest and arms wrapped around his legs.
It looked like he could have fallen asleep like that, with his face buried in his knees and his eyes half-lidded.
Julian might have come to the same conclusion, because just before he nodded off, he shook his head and pushed himself up again.
Even when Cyril suggested that a break by the river could be good for him, Julian insisted he should get back to work. He still needed to check on the roseberries, and he wanted to figure out what his next project should be.
Cyril should have stopped him. Should have sat him down to explain his reluctance to host company.
The words were bitter in his mouth.
So he didn't.
