Prompt #10: Life Lessons
It wasn’t really adoption. Couldn’t even be called fostering, either. After his mother had died, Lionnellais insisted on trying to keep to himself and stand on his own two feet. ...his thirteen summer old feet. Sylvia was nearby from where he was setting up a laundry line. He was fulms taller than Lionnellais, and, while the young Elezen was too proud to ask for help, Sylviel knew he needed it. “I’ll hang the lines further down so you’re able to hang them yourself,” he explained to the boy, who was currently by a basin of water running his clothes along a scrub board. Lionnellais never denied the help, but he wouldn’t ask for it either. Under the surface he was grateful for the help. He nodded, “Thank you, Sylviel.” “Clarisse taught you how to wash them once you get the soap into them?” Sylviel questioned There was silence as the splashing of the water paused for a moment. Sniff. “Yeah. Use another basket to wring it.” His sentences were short and Sylviel could tell from the way he hid his face that he was crying again. “Alright. Let me know if you want any help.” “Okay.” Sylviel knew he wouldn’t, though. He finished with the line and helped Lionnellais get the clothes, towels and bedsheets pinned up. “Alright. Pull them down in a few bells. I’ve left some dinner on the counter in the kitchen for you. You have my pearl if you need help with anything.” “...yeah, I’ve got it.” Sylviel looked down at the boy, whose head was lowered again to try to hide his face. “Thank you.” “Of course. Us conjurers have to stick together, righ—oof,” Sylviel cut off as Lionnellais launched at him, grabbing his middle in a hug so tight he could hardly breathe. He wouldn’t dare tell the teenager that, though. All he could do was return the hug. @sea-wolf-coast-to-coast
