Tara didn’t talk very often—not to people she didn’t know well, at least. Something about it just…scared her, like if she spoke to the wrong person then suddenly she wouldn’t be Adelinde and Rene’s daughter. Both women told her that she didn’t say any kind of full word until she was three—wouldn’t form even a two- or three-word sentence until she was five. Instead of verbally communicating, she drew or wrote.
She assumed that was Matteo’s reason for not speaking with her very often; he was a lot more outgoing and, in general, preferred talking. As far as she could tell, he didn’t like the longer pauses whenever it became her turn to say anything. Matteo did try, sometimes—usually if Adelinde or Rene asked him to—but they didn’t share common interests; he enjoyed music and traveling, while she liked to create physical things and would much rather stay at home. Supposedly they got along better when they were younger, but Tara couldn’t remember it.
She half-wondered if she looked unwilling, trailing behind Matteo, holding a sketchbook and a small bag of pencils and pens like it could somehow save her life. Matteo glanced back every now and then just to confirm Tara still followed him—not necessarily because he didn’t trust her, but more because she could very well get lost. Their home was one of the few not in the housing district, so she only went this way once or twice when she was with Adelinde or Rene and they needed to confirm if Matteo was at the Qrian house or not.
The house itself fascinated her whenever she saw it—small and, for the most part, unassuming. She assumed Aurik Qrian bought the house whenever he decided to stay in San Asari, or else his family suddenly came upon their wealth instead of having it for generations like most of San Asari’s nobles; it wasn’t a topic she was comfortable bringing up in order to confirm, however.
Reaching the door, Matteo unlocked it and pushed it open, looking at Tara.
“I’ll be in the library,” he said. “You can sit in there with me or go somewhere else.”
“Okay.”
He went inside, then entered one room to the side and kept the door open for her. She hesitated before following after him, scanning the room for a good place to sit down and draw. Matteo helpfully gestured to the desk; Tara nodded and took her spot there while Matteo went through the bookshelves and pulled out a few things of interest. He mostly came here to read old journals or books on other nations’ cultures—and if he wasn’t here to read, she knew he brought friends here every now and then. That was made clear by the house’s decorations—pictures and quotes that meant nothing to anyone outside the group. One or two must’ve been put up as a prank or joke and Matteo never cared enough to remove them.
Tara took out a few of her pencils, opened her sketchbook to a blank page, and started her work; hidden in the pages were a few pictures she needed to use as reference. After a while, Matteo let out a quiet sigh; the silence despite being with someone else must have started to bother him.
“Is that a personal drawing, or a commission?” Matteo asked, clearly attempting to be kind.
“Commission,” Tara replied quietly, still focusing on her drawing.
“So it’s a drawing?”
“Yes. Someone wanted a picture of their parents for their anniversary.” She paused for a moment, then added, “It might’ve been one of your friends, actually.”
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“Could’ve been. March and April has the best weather for standing outside for a few hours, whether or not anyone cares for the flowers or sakura.”
Matteo frowned, fully looking at her. “Aaaand I have once again just remembered Mom and Rene’s anniversary is coming up, too. Do you want to plan something for them together, or..?”
“We’re already traveling,” Tara pointed out, setting down her pencil. She slightly glanced at him, albeit barely. “Do they need anything else than that?”
Their earliest traditions for the day was for Adelinde and Rene to wander around together without the children; Matteo and Tara went to Mark, who encouraged them to do something nice for their parents. For Matteo, that meant working on a song he lacked the talent to actually play; for Tara, it meant drawing something of significance. That changed when a scenic train started to run around that week; although intended to be a one-time difference, it became their new celebration since it fit everyone’s interests.
Matteo waited another few seconds before carrying on.
“Maybe you could draw something for them?” he suggested. “Then I can hunt down something to play on the piano.”
Tara completely focused back on her drawing. “I can’t. I need example pictures—all of which are proudly displayed at home. I can’t take them down and I can’t sit there drawing without being noticed.”
“You could just work on it while Rene’s at work and Mom’s in the music district?”
“That’s too long of a break for me; I’d never finish. That, and if we’re traveling I won’t have the pictures or privacy.”
Matteo sighed, looking back at his book as well. “…All right, it’ll just be basic congratulations and giving them the day itself alone, then. It’s hard to do something for them, anyway. We can do something more on their fifteen anniversary, maybe.”
Tara murmured some kind of agreement and the conversation ended. She resumed working on her drawing, getting through the entire sketching portion in about ten minutes. The whole thing would only take her an hour or so—she drew quickly and drew well, albeit the latter was something she could never fully decide for herself. That speed helped when she would draw to communicate, so she learned to make it quick and recognizable so others wouldn’t wait too long for her contribution to a conversation.
“Huh. That’s interesting.”
Tara gave Matteo a curious look, and he must not have realized he said anything until then. He held the book up and pointed to a specific line, woefully overestimating how well she could read since he was halfway across the room.
“This mentions one of the towns we stop at on the scenic train route,” Matteo explained. “Said it started out as a town for first island immigrants, and it popularized one of Dakari’s most well-known legends. I just think it’s neat that some of the fairytales most kids here grow up with aren’t by the native people.”
“Which legend is it?” Tara asked, not because she found it interesting per se but because she felt his interest—and if she could avoid falling asleep, she would.
“The one where the founding god tells a girl that she’ll lead a nation,” Matteo replied. Although he continued murmuring, it wasn’t to her. “Might’ve found my next research project. Wonder if we can stop there instead.”
Tara fell silent, the specific area being mostly lost to her. Neither one had been told a lot of fairytales growing up—only Rene would tell them, and she only did if they were essentially pointless or didn’t have any particular moral. Tara—nor Matteo, as far as she knew—ever asked why. As a result, Tara didn’t quite care for them and Matteo slowly gained an appreciation of them as a reference to the cultural significance of certain things. Possibly helping her indifference was how much Itzun wanted her to share Matteo’s thoughts on the matter.
She continued working, leaving when Matteo did and going to the conservatory rather than home.