[P] Turn to Stone

Classes were over, thank the Lord – if there was a Lord, but this wasn’t the time for debating religion with himself – and all Sabriel wanted was to get away from everyone. It wasn’t like it would be a hard thing to do. People didn’t talk to him here, and if they did it was brief and they had very little interest in becoming friends. His reputation was somewhat known around here and it had already been solidified by rumors, and if those didn’t do enough the pallor of his skin and the constant look of illness certainly kept everyone away.

Even with the constant solitude, Sabriel still felt suffocated by the population here. He didn’t know why – the place was just… bigger than he was used to, he supposed. Sure, he’d been here for a year, or something (he had lost track), but that didn’t change the fact that he was still used to a smaller, more intimate environment with people he liked and knew well. Not people like the ones here.

So, with his logic, there was only safe place to go to right now: the roof. Sabriel ascended the stairs and found himself in the fresh March air, narrowing his eyes as a chilling breeze swept his unkempt black hair in front of his face. For a moment he contemplated returning inside, only then to proceed outside once the chill died down. It was a little cold, he’d admit that; but the sun was going down now and without it he supposed that was what was supposed to happen.

Sabriel glanced around before closing the door behind him and walking away from it, sitting near the edge of the roof but not close enough that he could see over the edge. He pulled his legs up to his chest and embraced them laying his head on his knees.

Yeah. This was better. Being alone was better.

Sabriel whirled his head around, his heart racing in his chest. Two words had disturbed him and instilled such an amount of nervousness in him that it was the only possible reaction he could have. He hadn’t heard the door open or anyone climbing the staircase, so what else was he supposed to do? He gazed upon the man that had now joined him with wide eyes that darted across his countenance, trying to make a sort of judgment that would aid him in how to respond. There was nothing he could gather, though; no one ever acted the way that he thought they would, so he had just about giving up on trying to predict.

“Hi,” he said meekly, shuffling over a little bit and shifting awkwardly before looking away. What was he supposed to say? He didn’t know what to say to people, he never did! He sighed softly, feeling pressure mounting. What was he supposed to do, supposed to offer?

“Um, I can, uh, leave, if you want.”

That would do.

He… he didn’t want him to leave? Puzzled, Sabriel fixed his gaze upon the young man. Didn’t he know who he was? Well, he supposed not; this boy wasn’t in his grade. Still, a good number of people knew who he was, even if they didn’t know what he looked like. The moment he said his name he would be gone.

“And with good reason,” chided a voice only Sabriel could hear. “He deserves better company.”

He continued to watch as the young man – Dorn – proceeded to sit next to him. Next to him. Sabriel took a deep breath, making sure to keep it soft. Dorn was too nice and was making such a huge mistake by being near him. Sabriel looked at the hand that was offered to him and slowly, hesitantly, moved his own hand to grasp Dorn’s. His grip lacked strength and confidence and he released him as soon as was acceptable.

“Sabriel,” he said, slinking over a few inches so Dorn wouldn’t be drowned in the overwhelming emotions that Sabe wasn’t even sure had names that must have emanated from him. Anyone would have been overwhelmed by them and they didn’t even feel them, like he did, or like empaths did.

“A lot of people know the name,” he added.