Stunning Lights Don't Effect Me

There was another young boy who was not the happy-go-lucky sort of young man he should have been as a child. Seven months old or so, already towering compared to his mother's miniscule height, he shot up like a bulky weed. But Einarr was no happy child. He found his existence on his mother to be painful, if only because of his real father. After the event between his uncles, and his sister leaving for a time with Freyr, he had finally asked his mother to tell him the truth. It was hard, for one so young, to learn his true father was a bastard. The man hadn't cared for them, maimed his mother. Einarr hated that dark side of the world, the blood that flowed through his veins. But he would not give up and wish death upon himself for the sins of his sire. Nor would he blame his mother and Freyr for all they had done. They wanted him to be happy, but fact was he wasn't.

He had wandered away from Secretua again, surely to give his mother some sort of panic attack, but he had needed to get away from the festivities. Too much positive energy honestly made the boy feel ill. He would walk along the sands, searching for something. That was when he saw another child. A younger boy, smaller than he. Einarr would stalk towards him quietly sitting in the sands. Surprisingly, he felt the want to reach out towards the other. Perhaps it was how he sat, looking coldly out at the water, as if the world was his enemy.

"Life sucks, doesn't it?"