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“You – should not – care,” Mayra’s voice was tight, her body tensing to where her hands fisted. “Who – are you? Why – do this?”

He breathed in and out, thinking. He didn’t look from her face, face serious, but still not unkind.

I was created for the protection of mankind. I love you; how could I go against my purpose? He straightens, turning back to her partway, his eyes open and sincere. His voice soft. “I am Nithel, son of Father. And I do it because I see no others who will.” He stands a moment, then holds out the fruit again, because it was getting warm in his hand. Gabrel had not liked warm fruit. “Come.” I would speak with you longer, but- Nithel glances around them. At the stone walls. At the filled-in hole which they’d come from. Every moment of peace is precious. “I will speak to you more if you eat.” Let us make haste, and not test time. 

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@this-is-not-an-alien @irishcelticredflowercrown @joelle-stone (And oui oui, if Malvat was listening, he could understand the thoughts.) @skylarynn @crazywriter @millennium