He heard the slow deliberate way the other boy was now speaking to him. He had never before had a twitch, and didn't think this was a good time to develop one. He was not stupid, and he did not much enjoy being spoken to as if he was.
But there was a question on the table that still needed to be addressed. Somehow. He did not want to answer those questions, because they might lead to more questions, questions about where he had lived, and with whom. And then eventually this boy would find out that Tiamaris was a murderer. He would find out that he had killed his mother, and then he would attack him. That was how it happened... right?
Oddly... his uncle's face came into his memory, somewhat fuzzily. Why? Why remember him now? Because he knew that Tiamaris had killed his own mother, and still tried to help him? No... there were more people like his father than like his uncle in the world. He knew that much from books and TV. And he finally was somewhere... indoors. He had a roof over his head. He wanted to sleep at least one night here before he was chased away.
So... what should he do about the question? It was tempting to just pretend to sleep. To ignore the question but... but what if it didn't go away? What if he kept asking. No, there had to be a way to stop the question. He thought briefly, or... or maybe he was remembering... blood running over scales.
No. He didn't want to kill, he hated killing. Hated it. His eyes shaded closer to the red side of orange. He didn't want to ever kill again. But he was so tired. So very tired. He just wanted to stop running. To have a place to sleep where no one knew he was a murderer. That he had to kill to get here... that irony was not lost on him, and he felt the weight of the deaths on his talons. on his shoulders. No, he didn't want to kill any more. But he didn't want to be chased away, or treated badly again.
"I choose not to answer," he said finally, hoping that the other boy would not press him, not sure what he would do if he did. His eyes were still too close to red, though the color was cloudy. Close to danger, but not there yet. Not that Koshi could know that. Not that Tiamaris himself knew that.
no subject
But there was a question on the table that still needed to be addressed. Somehow. He did not want to answer those questions, because they might lead to more questions, questions about where he had lived, and with whom. And then eventually this boy would find out that Tiamaris was a murderer. He would find out that he had killed his mother, and then he would attack him. That was how it happened... right?
Oddly... his uncle's face came into his memory, somewhat fuzzily. Why? Why remember him now? Because he knew that Tiamaris had killed his own mother, and still tried to help him? No... there were more people like his father than like his uncle in the world. He knew that much from books and TV. And he finally was somewhere... indoors. He had a roof over his head. He wanted to sleep at least one night here before he was chased away.
So... what should he do about the question? It was tempting to just pretend to sleep. To ignore the question but... but what if it didn't go away? What if he kept asking. No, there had to be a way to stop the question. He thought briefly, or... or maybe he was remembering... blood running over scales.
No. He didn't want to kill, he hated killing. Hated it. His eyes shaded closer to the red side of orange. He didn't want to ever kill again. But he was so tired. So very tired. He just wanted to stop running. To have a place to sleep where no one knew he was a murderer. That he had to kill to get here... that irony was not lost on him, and he felt the weight of the deaths on his talons. on his shoulders. No, he didn't want to kill any more. But he didn't want to be chased away, or treated badly again.
"I choose not to answer," he said finally, hoping that the other boy would not press him, not sure what he would do if he did. His eyes were still too close to red, though the color was cloudy. Close to danger, but not there yet. Not that Koshi could know that. Not that Tiamaris himself knew that.