A Place to Call Home [Erik+Jin+Open]

Erik frowned at the man holding his feet. Why should he tell this guy anything? This guy didn't know about the sunny life in Alfheimr ripped cruelly from him, the long miles he had to walk, or... anything. He was just some outsider, and although he seemed nice, he wanted to know too much too soon. Perhaps something about his walk hardened him, but Erik didn't feel that he could just anyone. He'd mentioned some stuff about himself earlier, but that was in a crying fit. Come on, Erik. Man up!

"No," Erik replied, and shook his head.

"Alright." Arthur acquiesced, and patted the top of Erik's feet. "I've already healed up your feet. Are you tired? Hungry?" He glanced over at his cabinet and wondered how much bread he had left to feed the boy with. He knew that he had some meat downstairs, but wasn't sure if this light elf was a vegetarian or not. He reached forward, patting Erik's head. "Do you know where I could find your family?"

As Arthur spoke, he cast another eye over the boy, determining that some shoes should be found, and a bath should be had. Perhaps some new clothing as well? He pondered if he still had fabric, or if he should just go buy some.

At the mention of his family, Erik's eyes welled up with tears again. No, no, don't cry, Erik! he told himself. You have to remain brave and strong, like a warrior! He sucked up his tears as best as he could and answered, "I don't know where my family is, or if they're even still alive." Unfortunately for Erik, he was unable to keep his tears inside, and as he talked, he began to cry. He put his hands up over his face to shield everyone from the sight of his crying, but he knew that they knew that he was crying. More importantly, the gods knew that he was crying.

Roisin noted the young dragon's departure out of the corner but didn't otherwise acknowledge it. Over time she had come to the conclusion that if a dragon wanted you to say anything about their actions they would call notice to it themselves. Sometimes making a remark could offend them. It was more prudent to follow their lead.

She continued washing the smaller cuts with the damp cloth (privately marveling at how the water in it stayed clean) as gently as she could. It wasn't often that she had needed to tend to anyone, so she was happy to let Arthur handle the most severe areas. She listened attentively as the two spoke with each other, the shapes of the past cruelty growing darker in her mind.

When she noticed the state of the young elf's knees a small frown formed between her brows. They were more badly wounded than the other cuts she had been cleaning and she had no illusions that they wouldn't hurt much worse than the others. Roisin was no master of potions so she would not risk using any of Arthur's salves. She had no way of knowing what they were meant for. Instead, she uncapped her flask, letting the cloth soak up a small amount of it. The Sidhe alcohol would not heal the wounds, but it would serve to disinfect them and the liquor was strong enough to numb the area. She cleaned his knees carefully.

As Roisin wrung out the blood, stale water, and miniscule amount of remaining alcohol she felt something stirring in her chest. She ached for the boy and his misery. There was so much pain in him, the kind that soothing balms and Sidhe brews couldn't touch. She let the cloth sit and soak in the bowl. There was little she could offer, especially not knowing that kind of pain intimately herself. Still, watching the boy hide his face in shame made her heart sting.

Seeking to offer him any sort of comfort possible, she pulled the cloth from the water. She barely wrung it out, so it was still sopping wet. Then Roisin pressed it gently to the boy's brow, as if she was trying to blot some of the filth matting his bangs. Small rivulets of water ran freely down from the cloth and over the young elf's face until they could drip from his chin. She did not know how to comfort him for his loss or his hardships, but at least she could offer something for his dignity. "Oh look at that," she said in a soft voice, still holding the cloth in place, "I left too much water in. My apologies, it must be getting in your eyes."

Erik mumbled something unintelligible, but meant something along the lines of, "I don't care." As the two adults continued to clean him off and heal his wounds, he began to feel sleepy. The weight of not having slept for... who knew how long finally began to descend upon him, and although he still didn't fully trust the adults yet, he found that he also couldn't keep his eyes open for much longer, either. He bent his head forward and closed his eyes, hoping that he would still be alive when he woke up.

A small snore escaped his mouth, signaling that he was, in fact, asleep.

Arthur smiled softly and, once he was down with Erik, stood, holding the elf in his arms. ". . . I'm putting him to bed." He stated distantly to Roisin, adjusting the small child in his arms. "Once he is rested, I will decide on further action." He headed to the door leading to his home, and hesitated. He glanced back at Roisin, pondering.

". . . You may enter, this once. If it will assure you that I'm not going to harm him."