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Nithel didn’t like Sherlock. Something about him grained on his chest. The lack of deference or respect for everyone else, but himself. But he knew the Star Breather loved him, so he chose love him as well, to wonder why he was what he was, even if Nithel didn’t like him. But, does the Star Breather really love this Sherlock? Does He really love you? Does He even exist? 
Yes. Nithel’s chest thudded inside him. He made himself look around the corridor, not act like he was battling the whispers inside.

He looked to the blind man, and spoke only in his hearing, “I’m here if you have need. Only if you want.” Softly, steady.

He… had no fear of this door. He could think of nothing truly greedy or selfish he’d done. Except maybe the time he and Domnik swiped a pie, and ate it all, before the girls could get any. Or when he took his older daughter off into the mountain, leaving her mother to do the chores alone, so they could talk and watch the stars together. He cherished the memories, though on the inconsiderate side. Sweet memories there too… Their family playing in the field together, or throwing leaves when out for a jaunt. The laughter. Bethan’s squeals, as he’d tickled her, and she kicked her small legs. His wife’s love late at night, when the children had been pushed into the loft. Their deep conversations. Nay… He had no guilt here, and he didn’t think there was anything he should be guilty for.

But… what of them? Nithel glanced around again, to make sure all were present. Will it stop at shadows? How real would they become? Would there be a punishment for the greed, all of them must face individually? Or together?  They were all here, that had been in the last room.

Nithel gave the smallest nod to Nathair. But the whispers came again, Could not the beginning of your life just be a dream? Could you not have spent, wasted your entire life, for a dream? Put your trust in someone that means nothing? 

No. Nithel straightened his shoulders and his jaw tightened. Ya khaliq alnujum ‘uwmin biki. He didn’t know if the words were right, for the language was slipping furthur and farthur from his mind. But he hoped they were. He longed for the arms of a friend, which were his family. The arms of his wife. His father-in-law. But he didn’t know if he’d ever see her, his dearest friend… or any of his family, again.

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@this-is-not-an-alien @hannahrenner @ragnarok