//------------------------------// // Chapter 14: Terms Of Address // Story: Millennial Heartstrings // by The Apologetic Pony //------------------------------// And I did so, perching on her outstretched leg. ‘Eavesdropping has she?’ ‘Only because I told her.’ I got a closer look at Nile, and quickly I noticed the colour of his feathers: a very dark brown; some patches verged on black. It made his bright yellow beak stand out peculiarly on his face, sharpening the edges somehow. His collar was hardly distinguishable, made up of an even darker shade. Inquisitive,brown eyes, naturally more muscly than her, though I’d guess a little less than her, ratio wise. ‘And fights aren’t the best welcoming parties?’ ‘Something like that.’ Lealla sighed and started to stare at the stars again, much like how she was when I first met her. ‘Beautiful.’ ‘Huh, wha- oh! She is!’ The griffin, who herself was quite exquisite (though not delicate) fumbled with her words, trying to determine if the complement was meant for her or for me, which was adorable, honestly. Apparently not aimed at the stars, as Nile was most definitely looking in her direction when he uttered it. But it was clear that at the very least it had been, in part, for he recoiled a little at her answer. Maybe Nile was clever enough to have left it deliberately ambiguous, not forcing her one way or another, even if there was a secretly preferred response. It was impressive enough that he’d continue such (in appearence at least) thoughtful line of conversation, after the seemingly sophisticated humour before and stopping a fight just minutes before that. I saw then, that I’d gotten a pseudo impression that my talks with Charlie had reached a certain depth, but never was I in a position of such insight as I had been with the griffins. With all their minute signals that took much less interpretation than I was used to compared to the brief time I’d been involved in Equestrian society. Perhaps it wasn’t even my relative familiarity with griffins, just a general improvement at reading people. And it was incredible, to see how much they implied through the nonverbal as well as, I suppose, explaining why at times they could afford to be -- less than eloquent. ‘What’s her name?’ ‘One beginning with P.’ ‘You don’t know? There aren’t all that many names that start like that.’ ‘Polly was the only one I could think of; it’s not that she says.’ Because Polly sounds that much cooler than Philomena. He went on to have his own try at it, but saw it more of as a matter of necessity than actual fun. ‘Phobe?’ I shook my head as slowly as I could manage, hoping he’d get the gist he was extremely close. ‘So, we’re in PH are we?’ This time I nodded furiously. Lealla got infuriatingly near, to the point where I almost said, for the sake of convinience it was indeed the name. ‘Philomela!’ They’d never get it now, with a difference of a noun. ‘Really? I thought I had it there.’ ‘Isn’t that close enough?’ ‘No, of course not! How would you like to be called Nick?’ ‘Living for as long as her, I don’t think I’d mind. Not for the likes of us at least.’ ‘Oh yeah? Well I would! And we’re not going to stop until we find her proper name... Bob.’ ‘Maybe it’s Pheonix.’ Lealla shot an overly stern glare at him. ‘What- it’s a name y’know! Just trying to-’ ‘Be quiet: Bob.’ ‘The toad does not approve of his new, forced name change.’ ‘The toad, called Bob, can’t speak.’ ‘Yes he can, he can say plenty of stuff! Like ribbit!’ It dissolved into a competition of who would laugh last, though I was the one who lost, more amused by at the rate at which a fairly sensible conversation would turn into something very silly between these two. It lasted until Nile finally called for an end to it and both of them were now collapsed in sort of cuddly heap of mirth, while I felt my joints being warped in strange ways being stuck between them. Pressed up against the two of them, they smelled faintly of the streets they played in. ‘Enough, Lealla, you’ve had a long day.’ She only shifted a little on top of him. ‘I think our newcomer may be a bit uncomfortable.’ At that she immediately leapt off him (and me). ‘Shoot, you okay there pheonix whose name should be Polly,’ she asked with a little urgency, but added a giggle at the end as she spun round. Well, it was a unique term of address at least. After Nile checked me, he insisted that she should go home and eventually, Lealla reluctantly agreed to, with all the trouble of the day washed away. And I was pleasantly invited in, no door-slamming included. The entire way, Lealla mentioned nothing of the fight, nor of the Gliders, only gushing about how nice Nile was. I wished that I could be as happy as she was, it was so soon... I don’t think he even knew. Then again, he wouldn’t dare touch her if he did. I was still ecstatic for her though, she needed something to think about other than a self-imposed responsibility to her group and I was a failure in those terms. I didn’t expect to find a role as a matchmaker, of all things. Lealla lived in small apartment, though it was difficult to determine much more than that in the near pitch black. After climbing up an awkwardly small set of stairs we got to her flat, which was equally unsuited for a griffin, though the furniture was appropriately scaled by itself, far bigger in proportion to the sizes of the rooms. Things were neatly set out, only an occasional pile of books, or an apparently random assortment of objects cluttered the space. That wasn’t surprising in consideration of the little cramped space that remained as a result of the oversized wardrobe, tables, chairs and bed. The white walls were bare with the exception of a single poster in the bedroom: a map of the Griffin Kingdom. ‘Sorry for this place being made for equines and me not being one. A little cramped, but I don’t spend all that much time here in all honesty. Only thing that’s changed is the furniture, I wouldn’t be able to stand for trying to sleep with my limbs lolling over the side of the bed. And it does keep me alive.’ Torture keeps one alive too, Lealla. ‘If you don’t want to be here feel free to sleep outside, I can appreciate you might prefer it to this stuffy place.’ I was confident enough I’d survive one night. ‘You going to give it a go? I’ll leave the window here a bit open then, go out whenever you want. Wake me up if you must.’ She dramatised the last sentence with an exaggerated groan, but grinned afterwards, making it clear it was all in good spirit. It ended up not being all that unbearable, if a little warmer than I was accustomed to.