When Iree, Dorothea and Rhys had gone into the council meeting, Shark had been left with two people whose company they weren’t entirely sure how to feel about. They liked to imagine that Ariana was a tiny bit less grumpy towards them now. Admittedly, Shark had had a good time fighting alongside her. Her tenacity and the way their magics had worked together… The unique poetry of warfare. Her open animosity in regards to Dorothea and Cerid, though, wasn’t so easily swayed.

Yes, on to Cerid. He was more confusing to Shark than ever. Cerid was always squinting at people, looking confused for some reason, and he was so slow on the uptake. His reactions seemed staged and odd. Shark couldn’t think of anyone who liked a person who was fake, but they had an especially short fuse with that brand of dishonesty, so they didn’t know what to think. It had happened at breakfast that morning, for instance.

Dorothea had been explaining to Shark in what was meant to be whispering but had morphed into loud, frantic squeaking how her night out had gone, as Shark had been worried and wondering what had kept her out so late. “My soul feels like it’s halfway out of my body and I don’t know how to cram it back in, Sharkie!” she whined, hands over her face, and Shark couldn’t help but laugh, though they got the sense she was concealing a lot of details. Admittedly, though, the fact that she had accidentally bumped into him in the hallway that morning right after he’d exited the shower wearing nothing but a towel was first and foremost now on Shark’s list of things to tease her about.

They had quieted their amusement and were about to reply until a grating cackle sounded across the table in three patterned bursts. “Ha ha, HAH! Ha ha, HAH!” Cerid’s laughter continued once Shark and Dorothea were looking at him, and he resumed frowning and squinting at them when he was done.

“Uh,” Shark said, turning away pointedly to face Dorothea. “Anyways.” They had gone on gently making fun of her, but Cerid’s reaction stuck in their mind. What in the world had that been about? If he’d wanted someone to pay attention to him, he could have entered the conversation more gracefully. Shark would have been happy to include him.

Now, with Iree, Rhys and Dorothea having rushed into the council meeting mere moments before, Shark had a mission. Trying to figure Cerid out and give him the benefit of the doubt, they looked at him, grinned, and said the first thing that came to mind.

“So, can I see your room, Captain?”

Cerid’s mouth hung open, and he glanced at Ariana only to have her sigh and walk away from them. “Very well!” he barked, marching back up to his house.

Shark caught up to him in a few long bounds. “Why does she hate you so much?”

“To whom are you referring? There are many to choose from.”

“Ariana, obviously.”

Cerid didn’t look at them. “Because we occupy different places. I think.” He gripped a silver knocker sculpted to have vines and leaves swirling around it before heaving the massive front door open.

The entrance hallway was a maze of sliding doors. Shark could see thin corridors between them, wooden partitions to make dozens of rooms. Each was a bedroom for the seemingly countless members of the Creed domain. Additions had been made to the mansion since Shark had left, they thought. More births were to be expected from a noble family, after all.

Cerid cast fervent glances about to be sure the coast was clear and glided down a corridor to the left. His room was in a row closer to the middle; without a sound, he eased the door open and gestured for Shark to enter ahead. Their mind was jumping with anticipation and fantasy all the while. What kind of decorations would he have in his room? You could tell a lot about a person from that. Dorothea, for example, had a giant stuffed bear with a periwinkle bow tie keeping watch from the back corner of her bedroom facing the door to protect her while she slept. Cerid’s personal space…

Was bland. Dull and bland! Zilch, emptiness, not even a fun pattern on his bedspread. It was all utility with wooden practice swords tucked in a corner, a thin cot, and a small dresser. Shark turned an incredulous look to him, and Cerid blushed.

“I grew out of most of my things, and they went to the children. There never seemed a point, much less a need, to get more. This is sufficient, and I am content. Besides, I read once that having few worldly possessions helps to build character.” He knelt delicately on the matted floor, and Shark sat across from him, pressing their hands to its rumpled, woven texture.

“Weren’t you talking about music though? I was literally right behind you.”

“I…” Cerid hesitated, then crawled over to his bed and reached beneath the pillow. “There is this.” He’d withdrawn a smooth black case with silver latches.

“Uh-huh? What’s in there? Severed fingers? Dirty pictures?”

Cerid looked agonized and confused. “Are… Are you teasing me? Please stop, if that is the case.”

Shark shimmied over some more, close but not too close. “Relax. Yeah, I’m teasing you.” Had he genuinely not been able to tell?

Cerid unpacked the case, gathering three segments of a flute and sealing them together with a tender gentleness. “Well. There you have it.” He held it out for Shark to take.

“How long have you played?” Shark grasped it carefully, and Cerid smiled. The gleaming buttons seemed overly complicated to Shark, and all they were capable of doing was admiring their smooth coolness. How was it even supposed to be played? It just seemed like a disaster waiting to happen, all spit flying everywhere and wheezy notes.

“Since I was…” Cerid pursed his lips. “Seven.” His face turned red. “I stole this from the market,” he admitted with shame and shyness in a whisper.

Shark put a hand over their heart and leaned back dramatically. “Cerid! Why, you utter delinquent! How could you?”

“I am sorry!” He put his hands together in supplication. “I do not want you to think less of me. I am sorry, truly.”

Was he genuinely afraid of that? It was obvious Shark had been joking, right? “Teasing. I’m teasing again, Cerid,” ze assured. “I wouldn’t care if you stole all the statues from the chapel and threw them into the lake for fun.”

Cerid blanched. “I would never do something so sacrilegious.”

Shark sighed and handed the flute back over. “I’m not saying you would. That was just an example.”

“Oh.”

Enough was enough; this needed to be addressed. “Cerid, I’ve gotta ask. Why does it always feel like there’s like a…” Shark raised a hand and moved it back and forth between them. “Disconnect, between you and other people.” They grew alarmed as an immensely disappointed and tired gloom stole over Cerid’s face. “It’s not like I’m saying I hate you or something, I just feel like, I dunno, you don’t always get what I’m saying.”

Cerid tucked hair behind his ear, and Shark noticed a freckle in its shell. Cute. Did he have more? Where? “I have always been this way. I have difficulty understanding…nuances.” He turned the flute over and stared down at it as he worked to put words together, fingers fluttering over buttons in time with no doubt rapid thoughts. “When people speak and act, there is the surface and there is what lies beneath.” When he lifted his gaze, the fear and hope mixing in his expression struck Shark as haunting. “Those hidden things terrify me. I cannot comprehend them, and it seems intolerable that I cannot. I do not want to be hated.” He offered a strained smile. “I am working to improve, as always.”

For a moment, Shark couldn’t speak. They couldn’t fathom what it must be like to not be able to take for granted knowing how things worked in things as basic as daily interactions. Cerid was telling them that he had to analyze every little thing, wonder if he was correct or if he was only making things worse for himself. It sounded maddening!

“Cerid…” Shark leaned closer to him, eyes wide and transfixed. “You’re absolutely, positively amazing.”