Stone Circle This is our story - our hope

He had not expected visitors to look at him work for his "family". Perhaps The Wise Ones wanted other souls to know he was pure enough to not be strongly punished for his defiance. A puppet he had become, yet if he were put up to it again he'd bite off any part of himself to remain alive. This life had become too precious for him, even without a way to speak. He froze, as a ghost would, and turned to see a male older than him, sporting a magnificent coat of greys and eyes of frosted-over flowers. It was strange to see how he stood - muscled, tall and strong - as the delta noted his own, nimble and boney frame that hadn't held muscles yet. He didn't need them as long as he could flee faster than anyone, and he was certain his ghostly figure could dance more gracefully over the fields than many.

He tipped his sunken skull to the side, flopping his ears with it as if asking what he was doing here. There certainly was nothing interesting about a mute boy and his work that could very well be done by anyone. Golden-ringed eyes sparkled from underneath white brows, interested and curious.