Stavanger Bay all the stars in the sky

Nurturing was never Aesop's gig. Though his skills ranged towards more passive ones, like healing and naturalist-ing?, he was hardly passive himself. Passive aggressive, perhaps. But true nurturing was not among his skill sets, and the subtle nuances of grief and sadness were ones he had a hard time picking up on.

Bullshit, however, was on his range. Not that this was particularly well veiled bullshit. Dragons were not real, this Aesop knew for sure. How to deal with that bullshit was a different monster all together, though, as it was clear that Charon really was an orphan. Aesop knew how many adults were in the pack, even if he did not know all of them. None of them were Charon's parents. So was he supposed to call him on it, then comfort him? Or was this a coping mechanism best left untouched?

He tries another route entirely. Now that he thinks he understands Charon's behavior a bit better, he might know how to help. Or he might screw this up royally, as well. Children really never were his forte. "You must be lonely," he muses softly, "can I tell you a secret?"