Desert

His eyes mirror sunshine-gold, staring out over the desert in the spring bloom of the cacti. The flowers emphasize for him the beauty hidden in what normally would be called inhospitable territory. The heat, the dryness, the jagged rocks that turn into canyon, the salt flats, the cacti fields. None of those things seem to be in the repertoire of many, but they were his. He had extra difficulty for the sake of his color, but he was growing up stronger for it.

Harlequin had been tutoring him in those things his mother believed would be best learned by someone with experience like Harlequin. Vulcan had never shown signs of being more than powerful by sheer size. Enoch had both size and gumption - though he was admittedly an old soul sort who was almost more serious than his age should have been. He had grown past that extra talkativeness, turning into one who valued the power of words and learning the talent of using only a few to say what was needed. Even Vulcan and Berit had begun to grow quiet when he seemed ready to speak.

Him, though, he didn’t see it as evolution - he was too close to it. He only knew that more and more, listening became more important and words had become more and more important. Why waste breath on tittering on as he had seen Vulcan do on occasion. He did manage to notice how many who were growing to know him also grew more intent on listening the more he savored what words he used and when to speak.

He grew into the eclipse that he appeared to be.

His eyes look next for Harlequin, hoping to find her so that another day might be spent learning her next lesson.