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After leaving the park, Leo gets back into his conveniently tinted-windowed car. (Functional, but not conspicuously nice; this is Chicago.)
"Well," he says wryly, "that was fun."
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needle-in-echo-groove
doing-the-right-thing
"I prefer Meat Lovers'. It is for those who love meat. If you love meat less than myself, you may be disappointed."
doing-the-right-thing
"It's a fruit. Really sweet, kind of sour, burns your mouth a little bit. All well and good in its place. Its place, in my opinion, is not on pizza. There are those who disagree."
doing-the-right-thing
After much prodding, Harry induces the phone to call a decent pizza place. "I'd like a large meat lovers' pizza, and a small cheese. Huh? Oh, for- pepperoni and sausage. Fascists. Actually- actually, could I get pineapple on the small? Yeah. Okay, thank you. 15 Elm. Yes. Thanks." He hangs up.
"I hate phones. Phones are terrible."
"I hate phones. Phones are terrible."
first-and-final
"They seem pretty convenient to me, but maybe it's more annoying to actually use them."
doing-the-right-thing
"Talking on phones sucks. Especially when you're a wizard, and every third word is replaced by static. But even besides that, it's like- half of talking to people. It feels all wrong."
first-and-final
Given that Harry is sitting down, it's now actually feasible to look him in the face, or at least much more feasible than it is when they're both standing up. Milo makes use of this novel circumstance to smile at him.
doing-the-right-thing
Harry may have forgotten to break eye contact. His eyes are so pretty-
shit.
Harry needs to work on those reflexes.
first-and-final
His eyes are grey, pure grey, with considerable depth and texture but nearly no colour at all.
The landscape behind them starts out similarly, silvered in the light of a huge full moon. A lively river tumbles over water-smoothed rocks between round grassy hills and curves past a beautiful fairy-tale castle; nighttime breezes ruffle the calmer sections of the river and bat at the pennants streaming from the castle's towers.
Milo is a prince. It's right there in his soul. Duty, integrity, honour, responsibility, as firm as stone; charisma, leadership, the power to command and uplift and inspire, as strong as the clear moonlight that illuminates every detail of this cozy valley. Perception, intelligence, strategy, insight: as free and quick as the wind, as relentless and adaptable as the water.
But the vision isn't finished yet.
Over the hills, the sky lightens to azure and the sun begins to rise, casting a warm golden light over the valley that paints blazing colour across its every surface. The grass is a living green, the pennants brilliant blue, the stone walls a richly textured grey and the clay roofs orange-red. And this is the core of Milo's soul, the most fundamental part. Courage, determination, faith, will: as fierce as sunfire, as inevitable as the dawn. He has not yet been tested to the full extent of this deep strength, but when he is, he will not fail.
The landscape behind them starts out similarly, silvered in the light of a huge full moon. A lively river tumbles over water-smoothed rocks between round grassy hills and curves past a beautiful fairy-tale castle; nighttime breezes ruffle the calmer sections of the river and bat at the pennants streaming from the castle's towers.
Milo is a prince. It's right there in his soul. Duty, integrity, honour, responsibility, as firm as stone; charisma, leadership, the power to command and uplift and inspire, as strong as the clear moonlight that illuminates every detail of this cozy valley. Perception, intelligence, strategy, insight: as free and quick as the wind, as relentless and adaptable as the water.
But the vision isn't finished yet.
Over the hills, the sky lightens to azure and the sun begins to rise, casting a warm golden light over the valley that paints blazing colour across its every surface. The grass is a living green, the pennants brilliant blue, the stone walls a richly textured grey and the clay roofs orange-red. And this is the core of Milo's soul, the most fundamental part. Courage, determination, faith, will: as fierce as sunfire, as inevitable as the dawn. He has not yet been tested to the full extent of this deep strength, but when he is, he will not fail.
doing-the-right-thing
Harry's eyes are brown. Dark brown, almost black. They deepen and deepen, sucking Milo through a tunnel into-
ash. His soul is covered in it. Ash and char and still-strong stone. He's a fortress, one that's been blasted and besieged but not enough to bring it down. (A flash of knowledge - it will. It will fall and rise and fall and rise until there is more ash than stone, until spar litters the ground so thickly that no foundation could take root - and then it will be cleared away to make room to rise anew. He will come back. He will rise again. He was born to the stars and to the mother of kings for a purpose far too great to fall.)
There's a man, sitting on a parapet, who notes Milo's approach. He's like Harry, if Harry was better-dressed and better-groomed and dripping with ego. He leaps down from the wall, touches the ground as light as a feather, looks Milo up and down. "This one's decent," he mutters to himself. "I could live with that."
The ground falls away beneath them and Milo is deposited abruptly back into his seat.
ash. His soul is covered in it. Ash and char and still-strong stone. He's a fortress, one that's been blasted and besieged but not enough to bring it down. (A flash of knowledge - it will. It will fall and rise and fall and rise until there is more ash than stone, until spar litters the ground so thickly that no foundation could take root - and then it will be cleared away to make room to rise anew. He will come back. He will rise again. He was born to the stars and to the mother of kings for a purpose far too great to fall.)
There's a man, sitting on a parapet, who notes Milo's approach. He's like Harry, if Harry was better-dressed and better-groomed and dripping with ego. He leaps down from the wall, touches the ground as light as a feather, looks Milo up and down. "This one's decent," he mutters to himself. "I could live with that."
The ground falls away beneath them and Milo is deposited abruptly back into his seat.
doing-the-right-thing
"Hell's fucking bells, that was- something. Ow. That was my fault, I should've broken eye contact, I am very very sorry. You have, um, an excellent soul. And mine didn't make you faint, good, that's happened."
first-and-final
"I have an excellent soul?" blinks Milo. "Um. Thank you? Yours is... sort of depressing, if I'm going to be perfectly honest, it makes me want to trace my route back home and bundle you off to Raxwell, except that then this world would be down both of us and that's just unacceptable, and anyway I definitely have no idea how to do that, so maybe I should just give you a hug instead."
doing-the-right-thing
"Depressing, huh. I have gotten that one before, though they usually go for 'horrible' or just straight to incomprehensible wailing. Maybe it's on an off day."