Sun Mote Copse Autumn Days

rasalas, despite having been here for a few days now ( or a week, torvi can’t remember ), is still weary. he’s the new kid and though niamh’s appeared to have taken to him rasalas isn’t so sure that her biological children will accept him into their fold. his interaction with other children beyond his twinshine was …poor; caerus hadn’t ever been kind to him as far as rasalas cared to remember. so, rasalas hangs back in the shadows, warring with himself as he watches the other child play, ears cupped forth to hear the story the other boy whispers.

rasalas studies him with mis-matched gaze, noting how he looks strong and healthy. nothing like whatever frankenstein creation rasalas currently resembles with protruding ribs and ugly, torn-up face covered in some type of salve or another. does… does the boy find the prince? rasalas asks softly, announcing his presence moments before he ghosts forward a few steps, still leaving ample distance between them.