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Avel took a step into her apartment and stopped like he'd been slapped.
"This is..." As if in a trance, his hands drew close to a cluster of drooping flowers, hanging from the edge of her wardrobe. But his fingers stopped just a few inches shy of the petals, like he couldn't bring himself to touch them. Sadie remembered the way he'd held the flowers the first time they'd met, wary and wondrous, just like he was now.
Her eyes narrowed as she watched him. What are you afraid of?
"You alright there?" Sadie asked.
Avel jumped. "Sorry. It's just...for a moment, it was almost like I was back on Eseran." He shook his head. "How did you grow all these?"
"Trial and error, mainly," Sadie said, running a hand through a row of broad, pale red leaves. "This bird's been leaving me flowers and stuff for a while now. I thought I'd put them to good use, try and make something out of it."
Avel turned to look at her. "A bird?"
Sadie nodded. "A skylark." She met his eyes and added, "The same one you painted on Gerrard Street."
Avel considered this. A faint smile flickered over his mouth. "No wonder you were so freaked out by it."
"I still don't really understand why it's happening," Sadie said. "Does it mean something?"
He shook his head. "Probably not," he said. "Skylarks are common on Eseran, as well. Eseranians think very highly of birds, you know."
"Really? Why?"
"They say jays planted the oaks that gave rise to the great ancient forests of the past. That sparrows carry the spirits of those passed on and take them to heaven. And skylarks sing songs even as they fly, to guide lost souls back home."
Sadie stared at him. "Seriously?"
Avel nodded. "Anaphalia, the last diodyr, was particularly fond of them. When she separated Eseran and Stonebridge, she gave birds alone the ability to move freely between the two planes. This one appears to have taken quite the shine to you."
"What's it like there?" Sadie asked. "On Eseran?"
Avel leaned against the wall, gaze straying to the window. "What can I say?" He said, his voice faraway. "It's beautiful. But also..." He frowned, running a hand up his arm. "You have to watch yourself there."
He blinked. "Anyway, I've gotten off-track," he said. "I just wanted a verhel branch." He pointed up at the foliage. "May I?"
"'Course."
Avel reached up and snapped a slender, blue twig off one of the branches. "Actually, I was meaning to ask," he said. "Those rings you're wearing. Did you make them yourself as well?"
