for @rhysdasior
Just when Gwyn had thought he'd gotten a measure of things as they stood in the castle, it all changed. Sure, Aneirin had been doing admirably well at dodging his fellow fledgling and there were plenty of nooks and crannies Gwyn had yet to explore, but that was just leaving a few precious bits of interest for later. There was still a rhythm and central to it was checking up to make sure Roland hadn't gotten any worse since last Gwyn laid eyes on him. Bemused by Roland's heartaches as Gwyn might be, he would hardly abandon his sire to his misery. Or -- perhaps not misery, not anymore. Roland had recently ceased to be so erratic and simply retreated into himself instead, barely reacting to Gwyn's cajoling suggestions intended to pry him out of his rooms. Gwyn nearly entertained bringing a gathering to him but thought the better of it, deciding in the end that if they had anything in spades it was time, for the healing of all wounds.
But time had brought a new surprise instead: the object of Roland's affections was in absentia no longer. Barely an hour passed between the sith first hearing rumor of Rhys Dasior's recent return to Krovs and his decision that it was imperative the two of them meet. For Roland's sake, the hybrid thought cheerfully as he crept his way invisibly into the researcher's block, if nothing else. The fact that the object of his interest wasn't present yet was of no issue to Gwyn. Roland's beau was a mysterious one, for all Roland had told the sith about him and Rhys' office was an intriguing bit of stage setting for the much-spoken of man himself, furnishing old and cozy, though unmistakably fine. It was Rhys' side of things that Gwyn was more curious about anyways before he got to see him face to face, picking over whatever wasn't bolted to the ground as he made his first sweep of the room.
He had just sat himself on Rhys' heavy desk to poke through the many scattered boxes that promised to have insights within, when his keen ears picked up on the signs that the sith would not be alone for much longer. Gwyn perked up immediately, head turning with eager interest towards the door. He did not have to wait long. "Ah - it's you." Gwyn didn't move from his perch, no matter that of course it would be Rhys, his head tilted, bird-like, as he studied the witch. "You look almost just as he described you." Gwyn hummed, a small crooked smile forming on the fledgling's lips, "Almost. I would have to see a smile to know for sure, I think... Roland does love to wax poetic about your smile."
