Chapter Text
Summary chapter1: Thorn meets the sufficient, but not necessary Animist.
The zeppelin had a delay of 56 minutes and 29 seconds, which was within the anticipated variance. Thorn stowed away his pocket watch, took his suitcase and went to the exit lock. The omnipresent humming of the engines was steadily decreasing, until it fell silent. A sudden jolt indicated the exact moment of their landing. 57 minutes and 46 seconds. The crew crowded in front of the exit, clogging it in a quite effective manner. Thorn passed between sacks and crates while trying to filter out the hustle, the shouting, the smells of wet leather and bodily odours. Finally, he reached the rectangle of grey sky and fresh air. He drew in a deep breath.
Anima was decidedly too warm. He had hoped for icy winds, to blow away the dull headache he was developing. It was autumn, nearly winter, after all. Instead, it was raining. Thorn began to sweat under his travel fur. He should have taken the time to investigate a little more closely what "winter" actually meant on this ark. He gripped his suitcase harder and strode down the gangway in a quick pace. Hangar workers mixed with the zeppelin crew. Their shouts mixed with the squealing of children. Children? Thorn frowned.
A welcoming committee awaited him. Rosy faces surveyed him from behind a wall of umbrellas, the chattering from pink-lipped mouths generating a cacophony of excitement. Beads of sweat were slowly dripping down Thorn's back. An expansive figure in a sweeping dress pushed through the coats and umbrellas and started to prate, addressing him in an inappropriately intimate tone. That had to be the mother. The whole family was here. Thorn kept up an impenetrable expression, while his headache was getting worse. He let his gaze wander over the cluster of civilists and spotted the Doyenne, who acknowledged him with a nod that was barely noticeable under her black veil.
Suddenly, a mop of dark locks appeared right in front of him. Thorn was temporarily taken by surprise but immediately brought his claws under control. These people had absolutely no sense for keeping a proper distance. He felt his hair getting slick from sweat under the polar bear. From the sudden air of anticipation, he deduced that the slight, silent Something under the rain-slick hair, the square glasses and the broad scarf was his future wife. She was small. He scrutinized the red-tipped nose that was just reaching up to his chest. He could rarely discern any more features of this wrapped up and sodden figure. No umbrella? That was a sufficiently irrational choice to question her intelligence, Thorn thought.
All eyes were fixed on them. Thorn focussed the wet hair again, swallowed and uttered a "Good evening".
His betrothed did not look up, did not answer. She stayed silent, stiff like prey in the face of a predator.
And Thorn felt a red-hot anger starting to rise inside of him.