[open] calling to join them, the wretched and joyful

[elio]

elio

some say I should learn to cry but I only learned how to fight
and I know everything must die but nothing fades like the light

Elio is not prepared to meet a stranger in his state, much less a fresh colt straying too far from his mother. Rotting and sullen, he is almost perceptibly thin and exhausted. His eyelids lay thick and heavy, the corners of his eyes full of the crust of too long sleep and poorly kept skin. When Lio blinks it should be easy, but the his eyes are dry and his lids are like sandpaper--if he had much white to show it would be bloodshot.

Given that the boy is just that (a boy), the stallion does not fault him and his endless stream of questions; but he does grow mildly irritated, moody gray eyes drooping to distant slits. A child this small has no business wandering, much less wander alone, happening upon an unkempt stranger. Elio wonders where this child's parents are. If Lannister were able to walk the earth, would Lio sleep a wink with the worry of him being so curious yet so small and defenseless? Oren can't be much different from the foal Elio has watched age.

With a sigh, he opens his closing eyes and settles on a few of the child's questions. The knowledge that wherever the parents may be, they'll likely be grateful their boy stumbled upon a kind stranger is what gives him the strength to answer a few questions.

"Hi, Oren," Lio states with a fake but strong smile. "My name is Elio. I'm not doing anything out here. Just walking. I'm six years old," he adds, then pauses, eyeing the boy up and down. "How old are you, Oren? Are you out here by yourself? Does your family know you're out here?" A little bit of life colors his voice as he continues to speak, followed by concern.

Elio feels silly, wondering if all he needed to feel better was a distraction.

@[Oren]