#oflostinfound

Jesus Christ she was quiet--

"Oh! Haha! Wow, I, uh--did NOT see you there--"

He continued to laugh awkwardly as he took the offered wine.

THE EXPRESSION HE WEARS IS NOT THE EXPRESSION of fear, or anger or indecision. Rather, it is an expression of acceptance and sadness. Of tears that had long since been shed until his eyes felt sticky and dry. Of tiredness. For hours had passed since he'd last seen Tasheen—since he'd fled his village, since that white demon had suddenly all but flattened his home.

And here Nata was, alone, barely nine years-old and shivering, if only from the cold that nipped at his hands and nose. Breath trembles as he looks up from the leaf and snow-strewn ground to the tall stranger before him. Nata hiccups, the first semblances of human emotion finally trickling back onto his face.

Overwhelmed. Scared, relieved. That even though the man bore golden eyes and horns on his head, he was someone. "I . . . I! M-my village . . . my village is gone! My uncle helped me escape . . . but I was the only one who got out!"

He hiccups again, breaks eye contact once more. His name would come later, but for now, the sudden wave of memories is overwhelming.

— H-hello?

Send 🌿 to accidentally get caught under the mistletoe with my muse.