[ Even while it is no longer new to him- the tension and anger on his behalf is something to which he will never become accustomed. It is what it is- it happened, this is how he lives- getting upset about it feels pointless and yet- Alistair winces when he is bruised, bleeds when he is cut. It is a kindness he still does not understand- but he softens under his touch. Loops an arm around his waist to squeeze him back.
He's here. He's fine. He's survived it. ]
Why? Counting my age by First Day has been good enough.
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He's here. He's fine. He's survived it. ]
Why? Counting my age by First Day has been good enough.