The Arrival Under the Sun
A quiet moment passed. Victor's expression shifted, just slightly, like a thought had landed. He did not speak. His gaze moved to the fountain instead. Light jumped across waves there. Water shimmered under the sun's reach. That made him smile - softly, to himself.
A stillness took hold, brief but clear. Light split apart then stitched itself back together on the glass, slow like breath. He noticed how that quiet shift softened his chest, weight lifting before he knew to let go. The air around him seemed less sharp, somehow.
The air hung quiet, though not empty - petals dipped sideways, cloth fluttered low - while the Lionheart kin gathered under daylight's reach. Not hush exactly, more like waiting shaped by unspoken agreement, each person rooted before speech could start. Stone soaked in hours of sun stayed firm below them, known and constant, even as distant chatter and silverware sounds slipped through edges of time.
