Silence crept along his mind like an old, comforting friend as he stood beneath the withering night. His eyes, though narrowed and hidden beneath a tightening brow, softened some at the echo of her words. ‘Are you…like me…?’ He blinked, unable to hold back the sliver of confusion and shock that weaseled itself along his expression.

Was she…like him?

His expression eased, as did the tension that lined his shoulders, as the stranger took a step forward. Her eyes were like morning snow, iced and yet soft as they searched his own complexion.

I— he mumbled his words, unable to find his mental footing as he continued to blink once, then twice, and then three times at the stranger.

She spoke of her family—a name he did not recognize, but one that Amaris would easily commit to memory. The Albans.

An empathetic frown softened his features as the man lightly shook his head, No… he started, his voice low and delicate, I’m sorry, I have not heard that name before. Not that he knew many familial names other than his own.

Have you just arrived? He asked with a gentle tilt of his head.