A child of the night knows no fear: Solitude is no stranger to him. (Born of Purgatory, born of fear, born of darkness –– companionship is something foreign to him.) –– –– –– –– –– He’s may be lonely, he may be hurt. He doesn’t know how to vocalize it, though.
“Sheik~!” Emil’s voice near sang for the other. Calling attention to blonde hair and green eyes swirling with joy at the presence of a tanned individual. Loneliness, hardship. These things did not seem to cross the young face for a mere second, and instead crossed forward, hands pressing against knees.
“I didn’t expect to see you t-today! I hope I’m n-not interrupting any business planned.”
