But at first, his mind processed it as something quite different; The Serpent for the Sliver Tongs, to be precise. He shook his head to clear it of the fuzz of mead, knowing that this couldn't be the correct reading, and studied the page intently for a moment before the letters clicked into place. The Serpent of the Silver Tongue, yes, that made a bit more sense. But there was no way he would be able to struggle through the rest of the page in a timely manner.

"Seoc," he admitted, somewhat apologetically. "I suppose that this would be an appropriate time to inform you that I'm dyslexic."

"Oh," Seoc mumbled, awkwardly adjusting the book back into the middle of his lap. "Sorry, I did no' know."

Seymour shrugged. "Normally, I can work around it, with some effort, but I think I may have had a bit too much to drink."

He pulled a face, and Seoc laughed. The uncomfortable spell was broken.

"No problem," Seoc assured him. "I can read it ta you."


Seoc smiled, blushing slightly, and moved closer to him, leaning against his side. He propped up the book on his thighs, but he didn't look at it for a long while; instead, his eyes remained on Seymour, contemplating his face.



"Are you going to read, or are you too absorbed in my handsome features?"

"Weel," Seoc replied slowly, still transfixed. "I could try, but I dinna know if I can concentrate."

"Are you sure?" Seymour asked, a bit flirtatiously.

"You are no' helpin'," Seoc informed him.

Seymour grinned, feeling the mead doing its work on his brain. "Yeah. I know."

Seoc elevated himself enough to kiss Seymour on the cheek. "Behave, will you?"

"Your wish is my command, m'dear."

Seoc cleared his throat and directed his gaze down to the page. "Right, then. 'The Serpent of the Silver Tongue,'" he read. "'Or How the Winds Won the War.'"

Seymour closed his eyes and listened to the rise and fall of Seoc's voice.

The End

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