King Elk Forest born under a bad sign

He spoke not with words, but his eyes. He was captivated by them; so expressive and pale. The boy was curious, yet cautious. He was a stranger, after all. He did not blame him for not rushing into conversation. The music of life was silence. He filled the Void with his own words, a harsh counterpoint. For one so young, you would think you would be awkward in your movement. And yet here you are, fluid and confident and quiet, He chuckled. Where I am from, we praise such things. I was raised to appreciate such dark beauty,