[ They're close. They can tell they're close, because the horses keep trying to turn back. At first he'd thought that it was Useless living up to his name (though Sypha keeps trying to convince him to answer to 'Ulysses' instead). But even the slightly more competent of the horses seems intent on turning away. Another half mile, and Trevor can feel the same charm start to affect him, as well. That knowledge, deep inside him, that they ought not be here and they should turn back.
(And it is a very odd feeling, knowing that that feeling means they're at the right place and ought to go forward. He believes both entirely, and he doesn't usually care enough about anything to feel conflicted like this.)
They first gave up on the plan of Sypha driving the horses and instead turned to the less dignified 'Trevor tries to drag the fucking beasts' option. When that also threatened to result in the two idiot horses tearing their wagon apart, they have instead turned to bribery, Trevor walking backwards with an apple in each hand, leading the stupid things forward. Which means he has his back turned to the road, and only notices something might be amiss when Sypha's jaw hangs open in wonderment.
And so he turns.
A little way away from here, the late winter stops. It just stops, the frost on the ground replaced with thick grasses and wildflowers and trees with leaves only just starting to turn from green to gold. ]
Shit. I heard that there were places where the seasons're all backward. [ Sypha had told him stories of such places, once, faraway places that saw the heaviest snows in the heights of summer. ] Didn't think they were in France.
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(And it is a very odd feeling, knowing that that feeling means they're at the right place and ought to go forward. He believes both entirely, and he doesn't usually care enough about anything to feel conflicted like this.)
They first gave up on the plan of Sypha driving the horses and instead turned to the less dignified 'Trevor tries to drag the fucking beasts' option. When that also threatened to result in the two idiot horses tearing their wagon apart, they have instead turned to bribery, Trevor walking backwards with an apple in each hand, leading the stupid things forward. Which means he has his back turned to the road, and only notices something might be amiss when Sypha's jaw hangs open in wonderment.
And so he turns.
A little way away from here, the late winter stops. It just stops, the frost on the ground replaced with thick grasses and wildflowers and trees with leaves only just starting to turn from green to gold. ]
Shit. I heard that there were places where the seasons're all backward. [ Sypha had told him stories of such places, once, faraway places that saw the heaviest snows in the heights of summer. ] Didn't think they were in France.