Lark hesitated, rubbing the back of her neck anxiously before sighing and leaning back against the wall. "What I tell you here doesn't leave this room. Understood?"
She frowned uncomfortably, pushing her hair back. "Rowan's dad was... a pretty important ambassador between the humans and the elves. I don't know if you guys know this, but there was a time, not too long ago, when peace between the two species was a possibility. Rowan and his parents took a huge risk, even during that time, and they tried to live with the humans. Lived in their neighborhoods. Found a house. Entered their culture."
"He was making a real difference, Rowan's father," Lark said slowly. "Really changing the interactions. People weren't scared as much. We could walk through a human market without being attacked. Some people weren't happy about that, I guess..." "One evening," she said after a moment, "people broke into their house. Put these black bags over their heads and beat them unconscious; dragged them out of their homes. When they woke up, they were in this basement of some kind. All these people were around them, wearing these masks. From what I've heard, Rowan and his mum and dad were tied up in these chairs, absolutely terrified."
She cleared her throat, shaking her head slowly. "They killed his dad first," she said eventually. "He was the ambassador, you see, so he was the first one they wanted to get rid of. He was their first target. That's not to say that they didn't hurt the others, of course. Pain was inflicted upon them on an hourly basis. I don't know if you've really studied Rowan's skin, but he's just... completely covered in scars at this point..." She trailed off for a moment before sighing. "But, anyway, his dad died first. He was the first one to go. Apparently, that completely broke his mother. From what I've heard, they really, really loved each other. She followed her husband not even 24 hours later. That just left Rowan, alone in this basement with a group of people who wanted nothing more than to eliminate his entire race."
"In total? He was in there about a month and a half," she said, running a hand through her shorn hair. "He doesn't talk about it, hasn't talked about it since he told the Elven Officials the report, but most of the rumors say that he grew so thin that he was able to slip out of the handcuffs one day as his captors were upstairs. He got out and headed for the woods." She hesitated, looking down at the ground for a moment. "He was eight years old. He watched both of his parents get murdered when he was eight."
“Yes, well...” Lark sighed, crossing her arms. “That’s why you don’t touch Rowan. He gets freaked out.”
Her brow furrowed and she glanced at her for a moment. "Please don't tell him you know. He doesn't talk about it."
Mikö squeezed her hand with a smile, no longer speaking in her native tongue, though her accent was heavy. "See you." Tez sighed, crossing her arms as she sat down.
Mikö smiled, before turning to Tez. "You definitely like Rowan." Tez gasped, raising an eyebrow. "Well you definitely like Lark!" "Yeah. That's kinda obvious." "I don't like Rowan." "You have a crush on him." "No.." "You're hesitating. That means yes." "You're not my friend any more." "But I was still right."
After a while, they would see a familiar blonde enter the medical ward, heading for Lark's workspace. His brow was furrowed, and he didn't enter their room, but just began to place items on the counter.
Tez and Mikö both noticed, and Mikö smirked, nudging her playfully. "Oooh. There he is. The guy of yo-" Tez smacked her hand, a light flush on her face. "Stop that! That's rude! You know I blush easily!" Tez told her, looking desperate for her to stop. Mikö snickered, shaking her head.
