Altar of Twilight valacirca

With a greeting having been extended, the other was prompted to turn around, returning the welcome. At first glance, he'd been unaware of exactly who he'd stumbled upon, for a great deal of time had passed since they'd last seen one another. Yet, the longer he'd been left to look over the male's features, the more familiar everything had started to become. Memories of their first meeting had filled his mind, the lesson that Alastor had given on his favoured tongue standing out the most. He had, perhaps, been at one of his happiest points in life back then, for he'd met someone with an interest in his preferred language—someone that had been kind and willing to learn. But despite the memories that had been triggered, he wasn't entirely sure if he should trust them, for the last memory he had of the man was his departure. Never had there been a return that had followed—until now.

Again, the other had spoken, and he'd felt his chest tighten. When he'd grinned, the foreigner's tail had started to sway behind him, a smile pulling at his lips. "Αἴσωπος," he'd voiced, the name slipping from his lips upon a breath. "Where did you go?" It was one of the questions that he'd never received an answer to. Where had the man go, why had he left, when would he return... he'd asked himself various forms of the same queries time and time again in the past, but never had there been anyone there to give him an answer. Finally, though, Aesop had returned, and the boy wanted to know all that would be shared with him.