The human boy kept still as the Fae'ethalan cautiously descended till their feet touched the ground. He knew how to not move, or move in very obvious and slow ways so as not to startle forest creatures. Some of them knew him now, deer, mostly, raccoons and the like. He would feed them or just watch them and they were learning not to fear him. Destynreal seemed like a forest creature, not in that he was an animal, but in the ways he moved so it was almost instinctive for Torin to be still and let himself be approached.
He could tell he was being mocked but it didn't sound the same as when the village children did it, it was less mean, somehow. He made note of the negation word as it was repeated, tried to commit it to memory. When the sun was pointed at he looked up but didn't understand what he was supposed to be seeing, maybe it was a reference to where the child had come from, seeing as they could fly.
Pointing at himself again and then through the woods in the direction of the village he said its name. It didn't seem to do much but they were both trying and it was nice. Under the careful desire not to startle the Fae'ethalan away and the fear that he might be in danger himself was a tiny ember of delight at having a conversation with another child who didn't seem to hate him on sight. One in which they did not share a language, but still...
When one of his wounds was pointed out he at first covered it with his hand as though to hide it. Shrugging his shoulders as if to imply that it was nothing, not important, shame etched itself into his posture and he looked down at the ground for a moment.
When he looked up again it seemed like his new acquaintance was leaving and he dropped the hand from his cut to reach out as if you ask them not to go before pulling it back, remembering he was trying not to scare them. Tilting his head he realized the child wanted him to follow them. He bit his lip, following strange sentients into the woods was a bad idea in almost all the stories but...
He took a step forward and then another until he was padding through the underbrush. His keen eyes examined the back of the Fae, which was significantly more different from human children than the front. There were the wings for a start, like a dragonfly's only folded more like a butterfly. Then there was what looked like bark protruding where Torin's own spine curved on his body. He was immediately quite jealous. The forest was where he felt safest, other than the forge, and having wings and skin made like the trees would have surely given him a kinship beyond what a human could achieve. Perhaps he was being led to the Fae realm where he would be accepted into their race and changed to be like them.
When the child called after him he increased his pace a little but stayed several feet behind,
"I'm coming."
He could tell he was being mocked but it didn't sound the same as when the village children did it, it was less mean, somehow. He made note of the negation word as it was repeated, tried to commit it to memory. When the sun was pointed at he looked up but didn't understand what he was supposed to be seeing, maybe it was a reference to where the child had come from, seeing as they could fly.
Pointing at himself again and then through the woods in the direction of the village he said its name. It didn't seem to do much but they were both trying and it was nice. Under the careful desire not to startle the Fae'ethalan away and the fear that he might be in danger himself was a tiny ember of delight at having a conversation with another child who didn't seem to hate him on sight. One in which they did not share a language, but still...
When one of his wounds was pointed out he at first covered it with his hand as though to hide it. Shrugging his shoulders as if to imply that it was nothing, not important, shame etched itself into his posture and he looked down at the ground for a moment.
When he looked up again it seemed like his new acquaintance was leaving and he dropped the hand from his cut to reach out as if you ask them not to go before pulling it back, remembering he was trying not to scare them. Tilting his head he realized the child wanted him to follow them. He bit his lip, following strange sentients into the woods was a bad idea in almost all the stories but...
He took a step forward and then another until he was padding through the underbrush. His keen eyes examined the back of the Fae, which was significantly more different from human children than the front. There were the wings for a start, like a dragonfly's only folded more like a butterfly. Then there was what looked like bark protruding where Torin's own spine curved on his body. He was immediately quite jealous. The forest was where he felt safest, other than the forge, and having wings and skin made like the trees would have surely given him a kinship beyond what a human could achieve. Perhaps he was being led to the Fae realm where he would be accepted into their race and changed to be like them.
When the child called after him he increased his pace a little but stayed several feet behind,
"I'm coming."