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Nithel’s eyes softened to the gentle reassuring light that dissipated so much anxiety Alessio could’ve died. A small, hopeful smile flickered across his face. He had so much he wanted to say so much he wanted to ask but he was just so happy his friend was here. Which was probably a selfish thought…
“You’re – Nithel. Yes?” Mayra wasn’t looking at Nithel, and Alessio wondered why she was trying to talk to him, she’d seemed to keep her distance from pretty much everybody el…She wants to help me. But that…he still could hardly believe…He looked up at her gratefully, almost disbelievingly.
Nithel nodded slowly, but he was watching them both like he was just as confused but he didn’t want to hurt them. He doesn’t remember…That hit like someone had rammed a stake through his chest.
“I am Nithel,” He said, it was agony to look at him, Alessio knew he felt just awful being unable to remember them. “I–”
Retreating a step, Nithel took them both in again. More wary than he remembered his frie…
“What is your name, fatat eaziza?” Something about him reverting to some odd language was so comforting that he still had that quirk. He jumped back when Lupa changed, complaining. In answer to “which way is not here?” Alessio almost said “only any place we can’t find.” but he couldn’t pay attention enough to actually say anything.
“May-ra. Camacho.” Alessio looked up when she spoke and froze, catching her looking at him. What should he do, should he say something, wh–? Almost immediately Mayra glared down, frustrated. Wait, she’d been trying to comfort him, hadn’t she? Alessio bit his lip, irritated with himself for not noticing sooner, trying to figure out how to respond. He made a motion to touch her shoulder but instead dropped his hand, wincing. Maybe he should say something?
“You – look well.”
“Mayra…” Alessio couldn’t bear to look at him, he couldn’t think at all. “Your name is lovely.”
Alessio rubbed his arms, staring at the floor and trying not to look completely shattered.
“And I’m sorry.” Alessio darted a glance at Nithel, almost hoping he remembered. He was…Alessio’s eyes widened as his eyes fell on the leather strap around his friend’s neck. There was no mistaking it, Alessio knew every niche and scratch in the leather like his own mind. It was his, since he was a child, the mark of a warrior.
Nithel kept it.