Disclaimer: ToS ain't mine. I'm making no money on this. This work is merely my way of doing honor to a great game and great story.

Author's Notes: Yes, I'm alive. I'm not sure if I owe an explanation for my long hiatus, but the long and short of it is that the fandom wars both exhausted and hurt me. For a long while, even looking at my Gamecube made me feel distressed. Obviously, I wasn't writing ToS fanfiction well.

I've begun to recover. I'm replaying ToS now, and as it stands I will be resuming Kharlan by the summer. I can't write at nearly as quick a pace as I did before, as in the time I've been away, my life changed considerably, including becoming engaged. But I do pledge to continue at least that. I'm also going to try to find my scribbles on Fallen, and re-do and continue that one if I either find those notes or I'm able to recall the plot.

In the meantime... an offering. Enjoy.

-JW

He sat alone. Sullen, angry, isolated.

"Stay cloaked," his teacher told him and his sister. "I'd like to think that Iselia is different, but I'm ashamed to admit that we indeed are not. So don't reveal who you are, not for a very long time, at least."

She was, of course, not the only one who treated them with kindness. They had been run out of every other place they'd tried to stay. When they arrived at Iselia, he couldn't cry anymore. His stomach didn't ache any longer for food, his body didn't feel the discomfort of cold of hot. He knew it when it was cold, of course, and he could tell when he was hot. It merely didn't phase him anymore.

His sister, too, was emaciated, on the edge of collapse. He often heard her muttering to herself that she had to get him to safety. He needed food, he needed shelter. He needed clothing. It no longer mattered to her that she herself was starving, that she suffered from exposure. She didn't care for her own modesty, her own clothes hanging in tattered rags about her shoulders, revealing more of her body than she normally would be comfortable with. Her single concern was keeping him alive.

Thus, when they stumbled into the tiny village and collapsed in a heap no more than five paces through the gates, they were fell upon, not with the violence that they'd grown accustomed to, but with concern and nurturing. The girl babbled out a story; they were Elves traveling with their parents, and were waylaid on the way from Triet. Their parents were brutally murdered before their eyes, they themselves beaten cruelly and left for dead.

The only one in the village who hadn't bought it was that teacher. Much to their surprise, she didn't blow the whistle on their story, didn't treat them coldly or with suspicion. She did her part to help, taking them in and helping to nurse them back to health. Once she made her good intentions clear, his sister was confronted.

Ashamed, they'd both spilled the truth. They were half-elves. The entire story about traveling with their parents was false; they didn't even know who their parents were. The parts about the violence perpetrated against them was not a lie, about the only part that wasn't. The truth was that in every place they went, they had either been honest about who they were, or had been found out and chased away.

The teacher passed no judgment. "Stay cloaked," was her advise. It was good advise. Iselia was so far out of the way, few people ventured there. None in the village could tell they were half-elves.

And so he intended to stay cloaked. Sullen, angry, isolated. Alone.

There was one catch, of course. Two children, slightly older than he, who wouldn't leave him alone.

They were equally irritating. The boy seemed as much an outsider as he did; his sister told him once that might be because he himself was an orphan, raised by a dwarf outside of the village. She was being trained by their teacher to take over; indeed, their teacher was old, and reaching the end of her life. Their teacher talked about each of the students, for it was important for her young apprentice to know who her students would be, their strengths and weaknesses.

That orphan was dense. Every day at lunch he came to the young half-elf, cheerfully offering to eat with him. He was met with silence, icy silence that could have frozen over Triet. But the boy didn't seem to mind. He just smiled broader. "No, huh? Okay. I'll be over here if you want some company!" Sometimes that young orphan would leave a portion of his own lunch: "Here, Dad threw this in my bag and I don't think I have room for it. Maybe you'll like it!"

All for naught.

The girl, though, was indecipherable to the young half-elf. She was pretty, far as humans went, and quiet. She always, always smiled. Usually she kept her distance, saying hi in the morning and good night at the end of class. He became uncomfortable when he noticed, though, that she was always near him, and often in the company of his other stalker. Then, on some days, she accompanied the human boy on his quest to share lunch with him. Except she didn't leave when he did. No, she calmly sat down, settled herself, and ate with the half-elf in silence. It wasn't uncomfortable silence. It was anticipatory silence.

This one, his sister said, was the Chosen of Mana, the girl who would eventually regenerate the world. This made him all the more leery of this human girl. It was her responsibility to wipe his kind off the face of the world.

His sister immediately corrected this misconception- the Chosen was to defeat the Desians, and not all half-elves were Desians. It didn't ease his discomfort.

And so the boy sat alone, day after day, as he did on this day, sullen, angry, isolated. And it was on this one day that his visitors didn't come by his place by the tree that marked the end of the school property. Despite himself, he felt lonely. Even if he had no intentions on becoming friends... he liked the idea that someone could like him. The thought that now no one did hurt, it hurt so terribly. No one, anywhere, except for his sister, cared for him any longer.

Lunch was almost done. He sighed heavily, feeling that they weren't going to come and try to make friends. Not this time, not anymore. He couldn't figure out why it bothered him. He wanted them to go away. Lost in thought, he jumped when he heard someone say, "I'm sorry for not visiting you today. My friend... he's having trouble with the math lesson. He wanted to study more and I wanted to try to help him. I'm sorry if you were terribly lonely."

The boy turned, biting a stuttered response off his tongue. "I wasn't lonely," he bit out. "In fact, I quite enjoyed the peace and quiet."

The Chosen smiled brilliantly. "I'm so glad you weren't lonely," she said cheerfully. She looked over her shoulder, expression creased with concern. "I hope he figures it out soon... I did my best to help but I don't think I helped much." The Chosen turned back to him, her pretty smile returned and blue eyes warm and friendly. "Anyway, I should get back into the classroom. I have to find my eraser before the test. I kind of lost it earlier today. Take care!"

He watched her slack-jawed as she ran back to the building, golden hair streaming behind her. He saw where the orphan boy sat now, bent over a sheaf of papers strewn about him, his lunch completely untouched. The expression on the boy's face was pitiful, one of pure helplessness. The half-elf watched in grudging sympathy as the boy's face brightened, then fell with remarkable speed. The young human then let loose a cry of fury, balling up the paper he'd been working on and throwing it with all his might into the wall of the building. "What's the use?!" the orphan cried out, standing.

He looked around himself, desolate, then at the sundial. The boy sighed, settled down once more, and began the troublesome problem again.

This whole time the half-elf had been edging closer and closer to the orphan. He hadn't realized he was doing this, so engrossed in his sympathy for the human boy, until he could see over his shoulder. What the heck, he thought to himself. I'm here, I might as well... The half-elf's eyes darted over the paper, deciphering the human's blocky handwriting, then said quietly, discreetly, "Forty-two."

The boy looked up at him in astonishment. "Huh?"

"The answer is forty-two." The human looked back to his work, perplexed. Resigned, the boy knelt next to him, taking the pencil from his hand firmly but gently. "Here, I'll show you." Quickly, the half-elf rewrote the problem, then worked it out, explaining why each step had to be done and how to do it.

Once it was complete, the human looked up at him. "Hey, you're pretty smart! Thanks! I think I get it now!"

The half-elf smiled, unable to keep a bit of cockiness from his face. "Of course. I am an elf, after all."

"Yeah, of course! Man, I wish I was an elf." The half-elf rolled his eyes and shook his head, although good-natured, and started as he discovered a hand thrust under his nose. "My name is Lloyd. What's yours?"

Hesitantly, suddenly wary, the young half-elf took Lloyd's gingerly. "I'm Genis."

"Genis, huh? Sounds like genius!" Lloyd stood, gripping Genis's hand firmly and helping him to stand as well. "Looks like lunch is over. We better hurry! If we're late, we won't be able to take the test!"

"Oh geeze, you're right!"

The two took off into the building. Genis slid onto his chair just as the teacher admonished them. "Close call, you two, close call. Alright, books closed, notes away. As you know, this test will be about thirty problems and cover the last three chapters, ten problems each..."

As the teacher droned on, passing out the tests, Genis thought he caught a glimpse of Lloyd winking at him...

Genis stared at his lunch with a leaden ball in his stomach. Having had a tiny glimpse at friendship yesterday left him tasting ashes in his mouth today. He repeated his mantra, over and over; he had to stay cloaked. He couldn't get attached. They'd have to flee at the drop of a dime. He had to stay cloaked!

A tiny iron object appeared before him. He looked at it closer; it appeared to be a paperweight, with the words, "Thank you" carved into it. Genis glanced up and saw Lloyd in front of him, laying on his stomach with his chin resting on his hands, smiling at him. Uncomfortable, the half-elf picked up the paperweight and turned it over, revealing "Genis + Lloyd, Best Friends!" carved into the other side. Puzzled, the half-elf looked up at Lloyd.

The human smiled. "Well? I hope you like it. I made it myself!"

"You made this?" Genis turned it over in his hands, admiring the craftsmanship. Lloyd couldn't have been older than ten, and this wasn't too bad. "It's really nice. Thank you. But- we're best friends?"

"Yep!"

"Since when?"

"Since now, silly!" A hurt expression flickered across Lloyd's face. "Unless... you don't-"

For the first time that Genis could remember, he smiled. "Of course I do! Best friends," he repeated, trying the phrase out. He kind of liked it.

Lloyd laughed. "Yep! Best friends!"