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“I’ve never had a friend before,” Alessio said warily “how does it work?”

Nithel’s chest ached in a yawn. His jaw tightening the smallest bit. How awful.

I will not leave you. But before he could say it, and so much more, Alessio’s gaze was focused behind him.

Nithel turned his head, neck stretching and following. It was a man. Virtue. Nithel straightened some, and pushed the square back onto the shelf. The man had caused Alessio to tense.

Nithel’s chest tightened. But Virtue wouldn’t be a foe. With just a bit, he could be a friend.

We are to make friends, remember? Nithel glanced over to Alessio.

The youth’s eyes begged Nithel to take the first step. So he did, sighing in his mouth, and looking back to Virtue.

Nithel nodded and lifted his hand in greeting, where one would lift it before saying an oath. “Virtus, Virtue; son of Fidus, Trustworthy. I am Nithel, son of Father.”  His face was smooth, kind, and his eyes smiled. He waited for the return, hoping this man was from his country.

But even as he said this, he moved to a position where he was closer to Alessio, partially shielding him, but not blocking him from the conversation. You are my friend. My charge. I will not leave you.

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@this-is-not-an-alien @joelle-stone