MATEO
"Oh... well, they might," Mateo says, furrowing his brow. "I could have other butterfly weed around the place, though, and I could transfer my butterflies to it when I need to get things done!" he decides, looking to his father as if to ask if that would work as a fix. He seems unsure, however, about whether or not he'd prefer to be a goat or a lion, still stroking away at his imaginary beard. Only drawn out by the musicality of the travelling tongue, Mateo lets his musings fade in lieu of the here and now.
Or the not so distant future, in the case of Ever visiting. "I will ask him what they said when I get back," he decides, before scrambling to his feet and fetching the pestle and mortar as well. "Can I go and work on the pittura now?" he asks. "I don't want to miss seeing the starwhales."
Or the not so distant future, in the case of Ever visiting. "I will ask him what they said when I get back," he decides, before scrambling to his feet and fetching the pestle and mortar as well. "Can I go and work on the pittura now?" he asks. "I don't want to miss seeing the starwhales."
the earth has music for those who listen
