Young Writers Society

Damascus squeezed Engel tight and nodded vigorously into his shirt, trying not to cry more than he had already. As Boris came over and offered to take them both home, he lifted up his face, which was red and tear stained, and nodded again.

"R- really, Boris? We can?" He gasped, eyes wide and hopeful. "A- and I won't scare them?"

Boris suddenly became very nervous. This was something he had not considered. Like the fact that Damascus did not speak German, and broken English was not the same thing as Latin.

He considered lying, but he knew that it would be a horrible idea, and Damascus' tear stained little face was, though difficult to disappoint, a sight that encouraged an examination of priorities.

"...Um...youprobablywould." Boris muttered, in one rushed, litle word.

"Only to begin with! Once I explain you're good, it should be fine? I know, we'll tell them after they've gotten used to you. Then they'll have to keep you."

Engel looked up hopefully. "I can teach Damascus Prussian, too, and I'll be super good!" he promised. "I can be really helpful!"

"But... but I don't want to trick them!" Damascus cried hopelessly. "That wouldn't be right!"

He sniffed and scrubbed at his eyes, putting away his concerns for now to better pay attention to what Engel was saying. Was his brother proposing that he would teach him the chant-speak? Right! He had to know it for him to understand the others and for them to understand him.

"Oh, yes. I will study chan- Prussian very, very hard." He said solemnly, gripping the hem of his toga earnestly. "But- but if we can't make your parents and Sigmund like me, then... then promise you'll still let Engel stay with you."

It made him sad to present this option- he was giving away his only assurance that he wouldn't be alone when everyone else went back to their homes- but he knew it was something he had to do.

If he and Engel stayed together to search for a home, it would make him so, so happy, but Engel was sick. He needed a home straight away. Plus, Damascus could survive on his own much better than Engel could.

Of course Boris would still let Engel stay. But he didn't want to promise to, because that would mean admitting even the possibility of leaving one of them behind.

"Well, it's not really lying, because we're still going to tell them! It's just, forgetting to do it for a little while."

"If Boris's parents are scared I'm sure you can come to my house!" James finally piped up with his offer, looking over to Damascus with a small smile. "My dad always says to treat everyone with kindness, and he's not afraid of anything! And my mom always tells me to introduce her to my friends! I'm sure they'd love you, Damascus! They might be surprised to meet someone like you, but I know they'll be nice!"

Damascus smiled, wiped the last traces of tears off his face, and pulled Boris and James into a big group hug with Engel.

"Thank you, everyone." He whispered, and looked between them all. "You're the bestest brothers-" he glanced over at Schadel, smiling hopefully in an unspoken invitation for she an for Edward to join. "-and sister anyone could ever have."

Suddenly remembering something, he straightened and gasped a bit, though he didn't leave the safety of the huddle he had created.

"The game! What was is called, honesty and... and... valor? Who gets to choose next?"

"Truth or dare," Engel says, then pauses. "I don't know. Whose turn was it?"

Damascus paused and thought hard for a moment. Whose turn had it been? They were talking about homes, and before that, they were talking about songs, because they had been singing...

"Oh! It was Boris' turn last." He nodded assuredly.

"Then who should go next?" Schadel eagerly asked, scooting over a little closer to Edward as she eagerly leaned forward towards the fire. Edward held William close to his chest and nodded in agreement with Schadel's question.

"Damascus," James answered decisively. "He's next to Boris. We'll go around this way," he said with a motion of his hand, following around the circle. "Then me, I guess, then Edward, Schael, and Engel."

"Yay!" Damascus beamed and stood a little straighter, delighted that it was his turn already. "Then, do I pick a truth or a dare?"

He thought for a moment, his eyes squinting with a visual display of just how deeply he was considering his options. If he chose truth, he figured, someone might ask him about things he just wasn't ready to talk about yet.

"Dare! I choose dare!" He answered brightly. "Dares seem fun. Except, if you ask me to sing a song, I still can't do it very well, sorry."

Schadel crossed her arms and pursed her lips, her face deep in thought as she tried to determine what sort of dare to give Damascus. She wasn't all that good at coming up with dares, but she did have a good idea for one. She just need some outside help. "I don't know what the dare should really be," she admitted, "but someone should come up with one that involves you taking on a form and staying that way for awhile, Damascus!"

“Wait, is that okay, though?” James asked, looking between Schadel and Damascus. “Is it hard to shift like that?”

Schadel folded her arms and mulled over what James said for a moment. "It's hard for me," she admitted, "but I don't know if it's hard for Damascus!