While the creatures of Farah’s nightmares spoke a plethora of languages those in the living world generally spoke the same. So, when he heard something strange on the wind, the teenager immediately assumed the calls were coming for him and kept his head down. He sat on the farthest retaining wall of the village, passively fiddling with a piece of fish bone while his father gathered supplies, but when the voice got closer Farah felt his gut churn.

He'd taken the medicine; he’d done everything right today so why was this happening now? He hunched further into himself in a vain attempt to blend, but then the voice came up by his left. Knowing full well he was either going to see a specter or some sort of mangled monstrosity, Farah hesitantly looked up…

…into beautiful violet eyes.

A young girl, roughly around his age, smiled and waved a hand. Thick waves of orange curls tumbled over her shoulders and gems the color of seaweed dotted along her collarbones. She was a frail thing, all limbs with little fat, and eyes as wide as the moon itself. To others she may have appeared a little odd, but to Farah she was lovely.

When she tried to speak again he cocked a brow her way and sat up a little straighter. With a little sigh she motioned to the wall he was sitting on, then slowly said a few more words as if he would understand, but when he didn’t she sat down anyway. The girl was obviously tired, if the sweat on her brow was anything to go off, and the leather garments she wore clearly hadn’t been prepped for Matori heat.

After a while Farah turned his head back to the fish bone and started his carving once more. She asked something – at least, he thought so, because of the turn in her words – and when he didn’t look up she reached out to tap the ledge beside him. When he did turn his head toward her the girl was motioning to her lips and making exaggerated motions with her teeth.

“Hun-gry”. Oh, so she did know some words! There was a thick accent attached to it, but that much he got. “Help?” She held out a bag of coin to him. “Words-“ And without the proper phrasing, she just frowned and pointed her thumbs down. At least she knew she was bad at the language.

So she wanted him to help her get some food. Had she tried before and been shunned? Surely someone else was better suited for this kind of thing? Still, it wasn’t as if he could explain to her why the village preferred him on the outskirts. Looking around Farah honestly hoped someone would have been passing by either on the street behind them or the beach below. When no one came to his rescue he took a moment to sigh and nodded. You can do this. It was just a simple transaction and then he could go back to the beach.

He led her into the market and towards the first stall selling street food. Instead of staying, though, the girl reached out for his hand and tugged him toward an open restaurant. It was a smaller thing owned by an elderly couple, one who clearly didn’t like him, but she wouldn’t listen when he tried to tug away. She just kept repeating “hungry” and pulling him along.

“Balls.”

….What now?

“Hungry. Ball.”

“Ball?”

“Ball. Balls.” Looking around, she looked toward a table closer to the entrance as she walked in and motioned. They were little sweet fish cakes that were rolled into balls. Still, the way she kept getting louder and louder with the word was making him extremely uncomfortable. So, Farah pulled her toward an empty booth.

“Ball. Yes. We’ll get them just hush” He hissed. Oh spirits, if word of this reached his father he would either be in for a chewing out or a ribbing session. While Taavetti had never really expected his son would be in this position he had warned him of it, and while the girl was pretty enough he didn’t need those kinds of rumors to spread about him.

He led her toward a comfortable table near the back of the restaurant and ordered a few of the sweet cakes as well as some soup for himself. While she remained in her seat the orange girl’s head swiveled this way and that, taking in the area with a childlike glee. Occasionally she would murmur something under her breath that he couldn’t understand, but still…Farah didn’t mind it. Being in her company was a lot nicer than being in any of the others his age. Of course he knew it was because she didn’t know about his ‘affliction’ but…just for a day, with this barrier in place, he could pretend to be ‘normal’.

[817]