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Fire lept from the kindling. The heat was welcome in the cold. Nithel breathed once, and tried to roll his shoulder again, but it hurt and didn’t obey him. Rubama kunt sryeana jdana fi rafd almusaeadat. The pain wasn’t just in his shoulder anymore; it was spreading, stiffening his arm. He began moving his fingers, and kept doing so. A stoic mask covered his face.

Nithel sat near Alessio, being careful not to bump any more spikes. How are you friend? Nithel’s eyes were calm, concerned in a kind way.

“If we are telling stories,” Jericho spoke, and Nithel’s eyes lifted. “I have a few choice tales to tell.”

Are they happy? No, no… I’ll be silent… Nithel breathed once more, and lowered his eyes, grateful for Alessio’s nearness.

“I will wait my turn if someone else wishes to proceed,” She clarified, and Nithel almost smiled again.

He stared at the fire a moment. I’m not sure you want to hear another tale told in the Ten Cities. They all tend to be… rather emotional. That, or terribly full of lessons. Or both. But they are told often to anyone who will listen. Though, if ever stories ran dry with others, and they wished for more…

His eyes lifted to the woman, Please speak. He wanted to hear. Then Nithel’s eyes touch her’s. You are loved Woman. Nithel holds her eyes a moment more before scooting back, a bit closer to Alessio, and looking down.

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@skylarynn @this-is-not-an-alien