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[Vryn Vhae'Naliek]

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If you could see through the ebon skinned child's eyes, the still of the room, though dead and oppressive, would not seem dark.

But it was.

A cot sat cloistered in a corner of the expansive room, rumpled, but unslept in.

Fearing to move, but desperate for the perceived safety of the confined space just in the distance, Vryn scanned his surroundings furtively. Carefully, slowly kicking off the smooth silk coverlet that threatened to cocoon him.

Soft velvet cushioned chairs, polished hardwood tables, and rows of bookshelves dotted angles on the marble floor adding a concise flow to the room beyond, punctuated by lengths of deep carpets embroidered with warding glyphs hidden within detailed patterns and bright mosaic. Heavy draperies hung here and there like monoliths, used to cordon off areas for privacy, or to keep warmth within.

Beside him, on a bed far too large for even two adults, was the drow girl who had found him, and dragged him away from that which he had known. Her breathing shallow and easy. Her long white hair splayed out upon the black sheets, shining silver in the flickering light of the room's twin braziers.

It seemed passing strange to him for someone so small to attract so much attention to herself, and to have so very many at her disposal.

Attention was dangerous.

And how she could sleep through the muffled scraps of conversations coming from various parts of the manor was completely beyond his understanding!

His heart hammering, Vryn thought for the thousandth time...this was not for him. -Could- not be for him.

He could leave. He knew he could. No one would take it as a loss. The adults were loud and careless. The importance and dotage heaped upon the little girl next to him turned everything else around them into mist. Insubstantial, and unimportant.

The extraneous trappings of wealth and comfort had made them soft.

The World was hard...and just outside. It was where he belonged. He knew this.

A chill tingling, like a centipede trilling up and down his neck, tickled at his flesh very suddenly.

Feeling it, rather than seeing it, lavendar fires regarded him acutely, chasing away the dark that seperated them.

Turning to meet her gaze, Vryn cursed himself for carelessness, and could not gauge the length of time Shri'hrae had stared at him, silently reading his posture, and intent.

She lay perfectly rigid. Her face, usually so expressive, remained a placid mask unreadable.

She did blink. She did not breathe.

Vryn found his voice, though speech came haltingly to him. Language still tasted strange to his mouth.

"I'm. Not...going. Anywhere. Shri."

By degrees, she smiled wordlessly, and closed her eyes. Her slender hand found his, and squeezed tightly.

Exhaling slowly, Vryn laid down again, pulling the coverlet over the both of them once again. His little princess rooted in to be close to him, wriggling a cold, bare foot under his legs in search of hidden warmth.

"Maybe one would count his absence as a loss," he thought sleepily, "Maybe."

Shri'hrae did not let go of his hand until morning came.