He caught glimpses of vast landscapes of Thraina, but most were paintings of the night sky.
Maybe, maybe, this beautiful, enchanting boy wanted him.
Timothée would gladly lay his pages out to be read.
Timothée turned corner after corner, looking for any source of the voice.
He wore the broken parts of a uniform, the dark purple cloak inlaid with silver stars thrown over one shoulder, a grey shirt partly buttoned, dark navy pants rolled up above his pale ankles, and low-cut boots.
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