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Post by Tristan MacMillan on Nov 23, 2011 15:37:13 GMT -8
Tristan could only stare before him with wide eyes, wondering if this was just a dream. Maybe he was sleeping and soon he would wake up and the day would be normal once again, right? He’d wake up and he’d go and pick some flowers to give to people maybe, he decided. Because this couldn’t actually be happening. There were so many angry voices shouting at him, their words unknown but sure to be something mean and harsh. Angry faces glared and spat at him and Tristan shrunk back, his body shaking.
One man stepped forward, towards Tristan, and Tristan crouched down low, curling up a bit and half lifting his arms to cover his head, though he couldn’t resist looking up at the man. It was one he recognized, one who had been nice to him and given him food and money at times when Tristan passed him on the street. Tristan attempted to give him a smile, but right now there was no sign of the kind man, as instead of smiling back and giving him money the man glared and pointed a finger at Tristan, spitting out one word that Tristan did understand. “Werewolf.” The man accused, his tone disgusted, and finally Tristan thought he knew why they were so angry at him.
The day before he’d been being bullied by other boys his age, ones who were wealthy and had families. He’d gotten scared and he’d turned into a wolf. He hadn’t hurt them at all, but he’d snapped his fangs at them and scared them off, and now the whole town hated him. He hated that they were afraid of him but he didn’t know what to do, just cowering before them and whimpering. The man before him reached down and grabbed him by the hair, dragging him back to his full height as Tristan cried out in fear and started to cry. The man made a disgusted sound and pushed him away, and Tristan fell onto his side.
A rock was thrown when he looked up and hit him in the side of the head, making him cry out again and for blood to start running down the side of his face. The red stuff scared him and he started to shake more violently, his body telling him to change, to protect himself, but doing his best to remain human, knowing that transforming was what had made them all angry in the first place. He was convinced that if he just didn’t fight back they would eventually forgive him and things would go back to normal…the kind people in his town would apologize and give him food and… maybe even bring him flowers.
But for now that wasn’t happened. Tristan curled up and made himself as small as he could, arms raising up to cover his already wounded head as more people started to throw rocks. “Amwi…Amwi…” [/b] Tristan said quietly to himself, the name bringing back happier memories of the nice man he had met a while ago. He wasn’t sure how long ago, he was terrible at time, but he missed the man, especially now.[/blockquote]
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Post by Amri Amatzya on Nov 24, 2011 10:11:09 GMT -8
Amri was not the biggest fan of Britain. There were too many cities with too many people and too many disgusting beggars. The only time he liked a large amount of people were when they were in an army going against him. That may seem odd to many people, since it is usually considered good when the opposing army is quite small, but that was no fun for Amri. What was the point in going into battle if you were only going to kill around twenty-five people? No fun at all, he liked big, challenging armies full of people who knew how to fight, only that would give him an appropriate amount of rush.
But he was here anyway. Why exactly? Mainly because he had grown bored with other places. Perhaps amidst all these people he would find someone who might be worth fighting, or perhaps they would find him. And if this city proved entirely worthless when it came to good fights, he could at least check out the local pubs. He hadn't done that yet and he always thought it was a good idea to know about the pubs in every area in case he got lost here and needed a good place to relax. Better to find out which ones were good now than to risk going into a bad one when he was in an irritable mood. It could save a few lives.
He was performing his usual menacing strut with a menacing expression on his face when he heard a man say "Werwolf." Amri grew excited. He wasn't a big fan of anything that wasn't human, and perhaps this werewolf was strong and he could kill it! He pace quickened, but when he got to the place where he had heard the man, all he saw was a small boy, curled up, saying "Amwi" over and over again as people threw rocks at him. Amri's heart sank and he knelt by the boy, "Tristan?"
Anger flew threw him as he turned to the crowd. "What the hell are you doing?" he shouted as one of them threw a particularly big rock. He swung down Banryuu quickly and held it in front of Tristan, and watched the rock bounce off. Amri growled lowly, "The next person to throw a rock is going to get their head chopped off, I swear!" He said the last bit a little bit louder and the crowd skittered. They all stayed close enough to watch, but they didn't throw anymore rocks.
Amri turned back to Tristan, and noticed blood was coming out of his head. "Hey...it's okay" he said softly.
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Post by Tristan MacMillan on Nov 24, 2011 14:47:18 GMT -8
Tristan wanted to run and hide. He was good at hiding, they would never ever find him if he was given enough time to hide. He could crawl into a garbage can in a dark alley and only come out when the sun had gone to sleep and the moon had woken up. Everyone slept with the sun did, after all, he’d be able to run far away then. Or maybe they would have forgotten by tomorrow and people would be nice to him again and he could stay here. But right now they were shouting things and throwing rocks and he was too scared to move, remaining curled up and whimpering every time a rock struck him. Most were relatively small rocks, but they were sure to leave him with boo-boos that would show up the next day.
He wasn’t sure why saying ‘Amwi’ made him feel better, but it did, so he just repeated his friend’s name over and over, until a familiar voice suddenly said his name. Tristan looked up quickly, blinking his eyes in confusion and just staring at Amri, taking a few moments to actually realize who it was. A huge, relieved grin came to his face, finally remembering that this was his friend, that this was ‘Amwi’ and deciding that saying his name over and over must be magic, if it made him come to his rescue. Amri used his big shiny thing to protect Tristan from a big rock and then shouted angry things that Tristan didn’t understand at the crowd, making them skitter back frightfully and to stop throwing things.
Tristan threw himself at Amri when he turned back to face him, moving to hug Amri and cling to him with all his might. He balled up his fists in Amri’s clothes, so that he wouldn’t be easily torn away if Amri tried to push him away. He rested his head on Amri’s chest, completely oblivious to the fact that he would be getting blood on Amri’s clothes. “Amwi…fwiend…” [/b] Tristan mumbled quietly as he clung to his older friend, promising himself that he would never let Amri go. He’d follow him around forever now.[/blockquote]
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Post by Amri Amatzya on Nov 25, 2011 10:47:08 GMT -8
"Hey, hey" Amri said slowly as Tristan got up and clung to him. His eyes widened, never being used to this kind of affection at all. Sure, Tristan had hugged him before, but never like this. It was a strange feeling to have those little fists clinging to him like he would never let go. Normally people would do anything to let go of him, and get him out of their lives, and Amri responded with getting them out of the world through a quick decapitation. Tristan actually liked him...and not because he was a fellow killer, which was the only way Amri had been able to acquire companions before, through a shared love of killing.
He wasn't quite sure what to do in this predicament. How did one comfort small children? He wasn't one to know, for when he had been a small child, he had never been comforted. He would simply curl up in a ball, grab onto his bangs, and hit his head against a wall, but he had a feeling that wasn't something he should suggest to Tristan, especially since his head was already bloodied up, and hitting it would only make it worse. Instead, he ripped off a piece of his shirt and held it on the wound on Tristan's head, hoping it would slow down the bleeding soon.
But what to do until then? Tristan was hurt, grimy, and probably starving. Amri bet he hadn't been indoors for weeks. He could probably do with a rest and some food and maybe one of those bath things to get all the blood off him. And Amri had been wanting to check out the local places anyway..."Hey Tristan?" he asked quietly, "Do you want to go somewhere and eat and stay the night?" He wasn't sure if he'd understand it, but maybe he'd get the jist of it, and if he didn't respond at all he'd take him anyway.
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Post by Tristan MacMillan on Nov 25, 2011 12:38:57 GMT -8
Tristan had always been very affectionate. Before his mother had been killed by a wild animal, she’d been very affectionate with him, holding him and cuddling him and murmuring things to him that he didn’t understand. He hadn’t always had a full stomach, but he was never unhappy when she was around, holding him and making him happy. He missed that now, desperately, the security that came from another person holding him. Still, that didn’t change the fact that he himself was affectionate. Growing up without words also helped to make him affectionate, because if he couldn’t, or didn’t want to, openly thank someone with words then he would have to find other ways to thank them, through actions.
Tristan didn’t really know what to do with the fact that he had red stuff coming from his injured head. It scared him, and so he was trying not to look at it, or pay it any attention at all. It was hard, though, when he could feel it running down the side of his face, but he was doing a stellar job in acting like he didn’t even know he’d been hit. Amri suddenly held a ripped up piece of his shirt to Tristan’s injury and Tristan sighed in relief, because now he could no longer see the red stuff. If he couldn’t see it, he could pretend that it wasn’t there. Even if it hurt.
Tristan pulled away only slightly when Amri spoke his name, pulling away just enough to look at Amri but keeping his small fists clenched in Amri’s clothes. He stared at Amri as he spoke, a blank look on his face as he tried to understand what was being said. He only managed to catch one word that Amri spoke, and that was ‘eat’. His face lit up and he nodded vigorously, reminded that he hadn’t eaten since…well, he wasn’t sure. It had been a long time, anyways, if the intense ache in his stomach meant anything. He released Amri for just a second before shifting to wrap his arms lightly around Amri’s neck and give him another hug, still clinging like his life depended on it. He’d walk if Amri made him, but he’d insist on clutching Amri’s hand the whole way there, though he honestly hoped that Amri would carry him there. His head hurt and the world kept doing funny things, like tilting when he didn’t think it should be. He glanced at where the crowd stood a few feet away, staring at them. Some had fled, but some still remained, looking unhappy or even angry. Tristan buried his face in Amri’s chest, so that he couldn’t see them and they couldn’t see him.
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Post by Amri Amatzya on Nov 25, 2011 13:07:00 GMT -8
Amri took Tristan's lit up face to mean that he would indeed like to eat, which was great for Amri, considering he wouldn't mind eating either. He probably have a drink also, considering an ache was slowly making its way into his head, but he wouldn't get completely drunk, since he had to watch over Tristan. at least, he didn't plan on it, but that didn't mean he wouldn't. Alcohol had that kind of control over him, so he usually wasn't the one controlling how much he drank or how drunk he got.
He shifted Tristan slightly so that when he stood up, he would be holding him with one arm against him, while the other arm held Banryuu. From Tristan's grip, he could tell that he wasn't going to be letting go anytime soon. This was only the second time in his life that he had ever carried someone, the first time being when he was a young boy, giving a certain young girl a piggyback ride...but this wasn't the same, no, not at all. This was a completely different feeling. Using his chin, he nudged Tristan's head to lean against his shoulder so he wouldn't strain his head anymore.
He carefully started walking away, to find a place where they could stay, when one of the guys from the lingering crowd stepped in front of him. "I'm sorry, I can't allow you to help him." Amri spent a moment to glare at him. They hated Tristan because he was a werewolf, or something like that, and actually, Amri could understand that. He hated werewolves too, he hated all strange creatures like that, but Tristan wasn't in his wolf form right now, so there was no reason to hate him. He was just a little boy.
"And I can't allow you to not let me pass," he said menacingly, lifting up a leg to kick the man squarely in the gut and knock him over.
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Post by Tristan MacMillan on Nov 25, 2011 19:52:26 GMT -8
Tristan obediently rested his head against Amri’s shoulder, feeling safe and secure and very relieved that Amri was carrying him. He never wanted to leave Amri ever again, because he’d felt so sad the last time that Amri had gone away. He hadn’t come back for a long time, and Tristan had missed him. Of course, now he knew that saying Amri’s name three times was magic, but he didn’t want to test it. Surely the magic would run out after a while, right? He stared into the distance over Amri’s shoulder absently, wondering if Amri would let him follow him around forever now. If Amri didn’t want him, and this town didn’t want him, then no one would want him.
He tensed as he heard another voice, this one slightly aggressive. Tristan lifted his head to look around, not completely sure of the words being spoken but understanding the meaning well enough. They still wanted to hurt him, or to make him run away and never come back, and they probably didn’t like that Tristan had a friend who was helping him. He tightened his grip on Amri and made a quiet whimpering noise as he clutched Amri, praying that Amri wouldn’t let him go.
He needn’t have worried, if anything, he should have had more faith in Amri. Amri responded in an equally hostile tone before kicking the man, knocking him to the ground. The crowd that remained seemed to grow a bit more hostile by this, though, stepping forward to help the fallen man back to his feet, and several facing off against Amri as though they meant to block his path. “You’re not welcome in this town,” A woman said as she glared at the man. “Leave at once and take the demon child with you.” She ordered, trying to sound brave despite the fact that the man they were all facing off against held a huge sword.
Tristan bit his lip and whimpered more, tears beginning to fall from his eyes again as he clutched at Amri, both sad and scared. A few of the remaining town people, a good ten of them of mixed genders, were arming themselves with rocks again, as though they planned on forcing Amri out of the town with the threat of stoning him otherwise. All of them were confident that despite Amri’s weapon, he wouldn’t want to take on all ten of them.
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Post by Amri Amatzya on Nov 25, 2011 20:11:24 GMT -8
"Oh, so that's how you want to play" Amri whispered darkly. His fingers itched for the feel of their skin under his fingers, the feel of him slowly the pressing the life out of their weak, defenseless bodies. A smirk came onto his face as he imagined the blood they would all surely have pouring out of their bodies, and all because of him, but really, because they had earned the pain. And the last thing they ever saw would be Amri's face looming over them, reminding them of the time they had wasted on not getting stronger.
He turned slightly and pulled Tristan off him to lay him gently on the ground. He would pick him up again, and wasn't that he could fight while holding him, it was just he didn't want to risk him getting hurt. There would be no point of him coming and helping him if all he succeeded in was getting him more hurt than he would have been otherwise. He wasn't going to play nice with these people, he didn't like people ordering him around, especially weak people who actually thought that they could control anything he did, but he was completely his own master, and he would kill anyone he wanted to.
"Okay, no more Mr. Nice Guy." He held Banryuu higher and started spinning it over his head like some deadly helicopter as he walked intently towards them, enjoying watching the expressions on their faces turn from confidence to fear. One of the women screamed and ran away, right as Amri launched forward and drove his blade through two of them at once. At that moment, one of the others hurled a rock at him, which hit him in his side but didn't affect him much. It's only effect was the anger him. He swirled around while spinning his blade to precisely chop off the man's head, and that was enough to send everyone else running away, while screaming "Demon!" What a good way to establish a reputation in town.
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Post by Tristan MacMillan on Nov 25, 2011 20:34:43 GMT -8
Tristan wanted to resist when Amri put him down, worried that Amri was going to hurt them. Despite the fact that they wanted to hurt them, Tristan didn’t want Amri hurting them. He hated when people were in pain, or afraid. He just wished that they could all get along and be happy. Still, he only hesitated a moment before releasing Amri, knowing that he couldn’t stop Amri and just hoping that he wouldn’t hurt them too badly. He just stood where Amri set him down and watched, trembling slightly. He cried out when Amri stabbed two of them at the same time, and after that he covered his eyes with his hands and trembled, afraid and upset.
He could tell when the fight was over because there was the sound of several people running away. The fight hadn’t lasted for long at all, that was for sure. Still, despite the fact that the fight was over, Tristan kept his hands over his eyes, scared of Amri. He remembered being scared of Amri before, when Amri had hurt several people in front of Tristan. But he’d forgiven him, and Tristan was sure that he would forgive Amri this time, but that didn’t mean that he wasn’t scared of him for the moment. “Scawy…” [/b] He mumbled quietly under his breath as he trembled and refused to take his hands away from his eyes.[/blockquote]
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Post by Amri Amatzya on Nov 25, 2011 21:13:59 GMT -8
Amri could tell that Tristan was scared, and that irked him a bit. Couldn't he tell that the people wanted to hurt him? Couldn't he tell the only way to really get rid of people was the kill them? Couldn't he see how much easier life life when you had the skill to kill people, to make everyone who did you a wrong simply vanish from the face of the earth?It wasn't his job to judge the people who saved him. At his age, Amri had been beating people within moments of death, or perhaps he had killed them, just not knowingly.
Still, he placed Banryuu back on his shoulder and went back to pick Tristan up and put him in the same position, though he wouldn't take his hands off his eyes. Well that was his decision to not see what Amri had done for him. If was going to follow Amri around, he'd have to get used to bloodshed, for that was eighty percent of Amri's life and he was quite happy with that figure, in fact, it was one of the things Amri was most proud of, and that wasn't going to change anytime soon, it was who he was, and always would be.
He carried him quite a ways, trying to get pretty far away from that place, in case any lingerers were following them, while ignoring the strange looks he was being given. He was sure he looked odd, a young man holding a nine foot sword and a little boy covered in blood. But that didn't matter. He found a pub and went in, placing Tristan on the stool next to him at the bar while pulling out a small bag full of gold and tossing it to the bartender. He better get the best d*** service possible.
"I want two plates full of food, a whiskey, and a room for the night," he said roughly.
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Post by Tristan MacMillan on Nov 25, 2011 22:20:00 GMT -8
As much as Tristan was scared, and hated that Amri had hurt people, he really didn’t have the attention span to keep his hands over his eyes that way for long. Amri picked him up once again, Tristan putting up no resistance despite the fact that he kept his hands stubbornly over his eyes. He was glad that Amri was willing to carry him once again, because whether what Amri had done was scary or not, he was still tired and a bit dizzy and Amri was still nice to him, at least. After a few minutes of walking Tristan removed his hands from his eyes and smiled at Amri, resting his head on his shoulder in a relaxed way, completely forgetting that moments before he’d been scared of Amri.
His attention shifted to Amri’s large sword for a little while as they walked, noting how shiny it was, though he disliked the sight of red stuff on it. It was really big, and it looked really heavy, and Tristan wondered whether he’d be able to lift it up. He decided he’d try later, if Amri let him, but for now he’d just go wherever Amri was taking him and hope that there was food wherever they were going.
Amri carried Tristan right into a pub, which was somewhere Tristan had never been before. It wasn’t like children were generally allowed in pubs anyways, and Tristan didn’t even know what alcohol was at his age. He was set down on a stool and he leaned against Amri when Amri sat down beside him, looking around with wide, curious eyes. There were a few other men inside the pub, all at their own tables and minding their own business. Tristan sniffed at the air experimentally, having a keen sense of smell, and he couldn’t help but wrinkle his nose in distaste at the mixture of smells. He could smell food, – which didn’t smell extremely good but still managed to make his mouth water and cause his stomach to rumble, – something foul that he’d caught on the scent of men sometimes when they stumbled down the street, and lastly, body odor. Still, the promise of food and a place to sit was more than enough to keep Tristan remaining where he sat, a small smile on his face as he leaned against his older companion.
After a few moments, Tristan remembered something and he pulled away from Amri a bit, turning to look up at him curiously. Reaching out a small, dirty hand, he went to lightly touch Amri’s side, where he’d seen a rock hit him. “Booboo?” [/b] He asked curiously, looking a bit concerned.[/blockquote]
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Post by Amri Amatzya on Nov 25, 2011 22:38:42 GMT -8
Amri drew back slightly as Tristan touched his side, not really expecting him to touch him. It was strange to have something so scared of him and yet so concerned for him at the same time. Is that what having a child was like? Well, Amri would never know. Having a child required having a girl, and Amri did not have one, nor did he really care about ever finding one. None of them really interested him, which was an odd thing for someone his age. He supposed some of them might be attractive but they really had no other redeeming qualities. No, children were not something Amri ever saw in his future, and he wasn't sure he could bear the thought of making another person suffer in this world.
"I'm not hurt," he said, smiling down at Tristan. Sure, he might get a little bruise later but Amri felt no pain, he had grown used to things like that. He was more concerned about Tristan, but when he looked over, he saw that the bleeding had mostly stopped, he would just have to be cleaned up later, but that really wasn't a first priority. Being clean was just never really an important part of life. The only times Amri ever really cleaned himself were when he went swimming, which was actually quite often since swimming was a really good workout.
Finally the bartender came back with two plates full of mounds of food and a huge tankard of whiskey. Amri nudged the plate towards Tristan so he'd know it was for him, whereas he turned his attention first to the whiskey, happily taking a big swig that burned down his throat and made his insides feel warm and fuzzy. This was actually quite great. No, Tristan wasn't exactly the ideal drinking partner but at least he was entertaining and he wouldn't annoy him like some people did, and hopefully he would stave off other annoying people who would try to ruin his fun.
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Post by Tristan MacMillan on Nov 26, 2011 7:57:39 GMT -8
When Amri assured him that he wasn’t hurt, Tristan actually thought that he understood the words Amri had spoken, though he couldn’t be sure. The meaning was rather obvious also, seeing as he smiled and didn’t grimace in pain on anything when Tristan had touched him, though he had pulled away. Tristan doubted he’d recoiled because it had hurt, though. Tristan returned the smile and nodded his head in understanding. He was glad that Amri hadn’t been hurt, even if he’d hurt other people…at least he’d only hurt mean people, right? It wasn’t so bad as long as the people had been mean…
The second food was put down before them, Tristan’s full attention was on it. He sat tense on his stool, his hands clenched in his lap as he just stared at the food, fighting off the urge to grab it and start stuffing his face. He wasn’t yet sure if the food was for him, and if it wasn’t then he couldn’t touch it. He’d get in trouble if he touched someone else’s food. But Amri was the only other person nearby who might get angry if he touched the food, and then Amri nudged one of the plates towards him. Tristan smiled at him gratefully and then started to eat, finding that the food really wasn’t all that bad, and hey, it was food. Beggers can’t be choosers.
Tristan hadn’t eaten really all that much by the time he was full. He never ate much, seeing as he never had food in front of him, so the amount that his stomach could hold wasn’t much. Still, he’d eaten most of what was on his plate and he looked very satisfied now, a smile on his lips as he patted at his stomach. He wasn’t sure if Amri was finished or not, so in order to entertain himself, Tristan lifted one of the sleeves to his shirt, noticing a few bruises that were only starting to appear now. He counted them, slowly, using his fingers and pointing at each appearing bruise first. He counted three on his right arm alone, but they didn’t hurt him much anymore.
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Post by Amri Amatzya on Nov 26, 2011 11:32:20 GMT -8
After drinking about half his tankard, he supposed he should eat something. He wasn't very picky about food, not because he never had a choice in it. Sure, when he had been younger, he could only eat what he stole, but now he had grown quite wealthy from putting up his skills for hire, and even if he didn't have large amounts of gold at his beck and call, his severe expression and a bit of waving around of Banryuu would usually get him whatever he wanted. No, Amri just ate whatever and ate a lot of it, not really caring what the taste was before it was sent down his throat. He shoveled handfuls of food down his throat, barely pausing to chew.
He was surprised that Tristan didn't eat much, but he supposed Tristan never got much to eat, guessing that he only begged rather than stole. Eventually he would have to teach him how to really live and how to fight and defend himself, so that maybe he wouldn't be an embarrassment to himself anymore. It irked him that someone so weak had the powers of a werewolf, and didn't even use them, but that was how life worked out, rarely those with power had earned it.
"Wanna go to bed?" he asked, even though it wasn't that late at all. He was assuming that Tristan would be very tired and would love to have some rest in a real bed and not worry about what might happen to him while he wasn't paying attention. Of course, Amri wouldn't join him, he would simply put him to bed and then come back down and get drunk, seeing as he soon realized that's what he really wanted to do. But if anything happened, Amri would here it and then he would take of it.
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Post by Tristan MacMillan on Nov 26, 2011 18:47:12 GMT -8
After eating what was considered a large meal for Tristan, he was quickly getting tired. He felt his eyelids droop a bit but he forced them back open, not sure that he wanted to sleep just yet. What if the people in the town were still angry? What if they still wanted to force Amri and Tristan out of the town? He didn’t want to be asleep if something like that happened. Besides, what if Amri disappeared while he was sleeping? Tristan wasn’t Amri’s responsibility, he could just leave him if he wanted to and let Tristan fend for himself. Would Amri do that to him? Tristan wasn’t sure.
Tristan had no way to ask his friend, either, and after a few moments of trying to fight off sleep, he realized that he would just have to trust Amri. His friend asked him if he wanted to go to bed and Tristan gave him a confused look, though not because he hadn’t understood his question. Tristan knew what a bed was. But he hadn’t slept in one in a very long time, and he doubted he’d be sleeping in one tonight. Amri must have meant go to sleep, out in a dark alley or, if Tristan was lucky, the corner of some abandoned room. So Tristan nodded his head and rubbed at his eyes sleepily, trying not to worry that Amri just wanted to get rid of him. “Sleepy...” [/b] Tristan mumbled quietly after a moment.[/blockquote]
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