Anxiety

[Artemidoros Etherium]

Once the others were gone and he ascertained there were no left behind portions of them, Artemidoros turned into the wind and allowed the blowing snow to beat upon his face. Individually, the snowflakes were only minor things. The accumulated impact of them over time, however, was much greater. He loosed his cloak to allow it free reign in the wind; almost, he felt as if he were flying. He could not change shape, sadly, but magic did allow some amusement.

"I am in love," He howled into the wind, no longer mindful that some might be sleeping nearby. "She loves me as well." Artemidoros felt as if the world was ready to explode around him. He was brought back to reality by the sound of a copper pot hitting the cobblestones near him with an obscenity and a less than polite anatomical comment on remaining quiet so others could sleep.

Taking that as his cue, he gathered his wand and his will. He might not have wings, but magic could cover that lack. Casting a spell, he vaulted from the ground and soared off into the night. It did not matter if those around here saw him. All he cared about at the moment was the call of the night wind and the exuberance of having met Eleora. Home was that way, and so he went.