“I speak in riddles and spout nonsensical ramblings,” a grin played on his lips as he regarded the other man and shrugged a shoulder, blanket slipping down his arm. “I look at the stars to compress myself. Sometimes it feels like my head is going to burst from all these thoughts, and the night sky reminds me just how small and insignificant I am.” Kaegan flashed the other man a smile, “but then I remember when stars die, they become us. You and I are full of solar flares and supernovas, and isn’t that beautiful?” He tilted his head in consideration, “maybe that’s what having the soul of a clown is…finding happiness in melancholy.”
He had heard whispers among the house slaves about the purchase of a half-Fae, feeling the iron-hot stirrings of anxiety in his gut—would his Mistress become less attracted to his blood?—but Kaegan had chosen to bottle and pointedly ignore his paranoia, assuming jealousy an emotion a slave was not allotted to have. Besides, he had never paid much attention to idle gossip and viewed strangers to simply be friends he hadn’t met yet; Kaegan was not one to hold someone else responsible for his own insecurities, determined to address every newcomer as if they were a long-lost friend.
“I do not envy the wise. It must be a burden,” he mused, mostly to himself. “You’re more than welcome to join me,” Kaegan added, gesturing to the spot beside him, “if I haven’t scared you off yet.” He lifted the binoculars and waggled them invitingly before crooning, “I have a blanket and binoculars.”