The human sat on the filthy stone floor, his legs sprawled out and his back firmly pressed up against the rough gemstone wall that stood tall behind him. As he lifted his head to glance at Vievel a wry smile flickered across his lips, perhaps for the manner in which Vievel had crashed into the room, or perhaps for the means in which he had led Vievel to open the door. The amethyst embedded in the pockmarked rock twinkled in the new light from the hallway outside, and beside it, Vievel could’ve sworn the human’s eyes glinted similarly.

Possessed of a stocky build and great height, at least a full head taller than Vievel had he been standing, the human struck an imposing figure even whilst sitting down. He wore dark linen trousers that stopped just shy of his ankles, and a series of bandages and wrappings that stretched from the very bottom of his abdominal muscles up to his right shoulder. A patchwork brown long-coat lay beside him, showing signs of age, fraying, and repeated mending; that it was so carelessly discarded and slung on the dusty ground, despite the obvious love someone had shown for it, puzzled Vievel.

The human tilted himself toward Vievel so only part of his body was visible, most of his face covered by sleek dark hair that fell so straight and orderly Vievel imagined it must’ve been weighted by something. What Vievel could make out of his face was similarly obscured, hidden behind wild hair that grew all over his face unkempt and without order. Two things stood out from beneath his strange facial hair, two things that struck Vievel as he stood in vigil beside the doorway, unwilling to move from it in case he had to suddenly turn and run. Firstly the human’s face was marred by a vertically curved scar, a mark that looked aged and worn. It was ragged and moved erratically as it travelled down his face, the reddish outline bisecting it by way of his nose. The second feature was a lone eye visible to the side of his long hair, an eye with an iris that was comprised of an unnatural and striking yellow.

The man (for that was what the humans called their Aelfr) breathed in once and then held the air in his lungs for what, to Vievel, seemed an unfathomably long time. After Vievel had counted three of his own breaths, the man exhaled, looking not at all uncomfortable or worse for wear.

“Pop a squat kid,” he said. He nodded toward the opposite wall, from which hung two massive crystal manacles. Vievel felt nervousness wrack his body, from his chattering teeth down into his hands, the left of which clasped his right wrist to stop them both from shaking. All the while he kept his fake revolver, his flashlight wrapped with a rag, pointed at the man.

“You’re a-” Vievel shook his head. Part of him imagined he’d somehow fallen asleep in the tunnel, or perhaps even earlier. Perhaps he was still resting in his bunk on the Ulmadr home ship. No-one had seen a human in centuries, at least no Aælfir.

No Aælfir which lived to tell about it at least. The dark thought seemed ominous for his current circumstance. Vievel took an uneasy step backward, looking at the deadbolt of the door and wondering if he could close and seal it before he got to him. A doubt rode the idea even as he thought it. Humans were indomitable, relentless, able to condition themselves into any state necessary for survival; the home ship’s scribe had once recited a story to him that humans could keep moving forever, never stopping. Did that mean they were fast? Vievel took stock of the man in front of him, the bandaged man sitting with his back to the gemstone wall. Had the stranger been an Aælfir, even a Dwurkn, Vievel would have already made for the deadbolt, tried to seal the room again. He knew enough of both races to, at the very least, make an educated guess on how to react. Facing down a human all he knew for certain was that he knew nothing for certain; having no sense of the creature’s capabilities but fable and legend, Vievel felt blinder than a one-eyed Tvusktha.

After several moments spent watching Vievel’s indecision the man in front of him sighed.

“I ain’t gonna bite,” he said, a low drawl to his words. “Least not you. Sit”. The demand hammered itself against Vievel’s ears, weighty and powerful. He felt compelled to obey yet feared giving up his position beside the door. Some smaller part of his inner self cried out to indulge the human, to sit and speak with him; his curiosity of the myth in front of him was uncontrollable.

“I-I have a gun,” Vievel stammered, raising his cloth-covered flashlight. It was the best compromise his separated self could reach. “A revolver. Don’t you try anything”. Internally Vievel laughed at the ludicrousness of what he was saying, a deranged laugh which bounded about his head until he was sure it would burst from his skull. It was the smallest threat; he’d heard countless stories telling tale that humans could heal from almost anything, and Vievel’s ‘gun’ was capable of much less than that.

His legs began to waver, partially from a still-present ache since his time in the cabinet, and partially from an impossible-to-ignore anxiety; With great trepidation Vievel moved to the other side of the small cell, pressing his back up against the gemstone wall as he stood between the two hanging manacles. He neither chose to sit down nor to take his eyes off of the human sitting opposite him. The human, for his part, was equally unwilling to stop staring at the young Aælfir in front of him. His eyes had remained fixated on Vievel since the door had opened, scanning the young Aelfr with the eyes of a predator making a decision about its prey. He sat with his hands clasping his knees as he looked over Vievel, tapping out an unfamiliar melody on his right knee using his fingers and knuckles.

“What are you?” he asked, looking Vievel over. He seemed suddenly interested in Vievel’s identity, and a stone weight sat on Vievel’s chest as he concentrated on keeping his faux-revolver trained upon the man.

Does he know I’m an Aælfir? Vievel wasn’t sure how to answer his question, nor was he sure he wanted to. Humans killed Aælfir.

“Ah, it don’t matter. Least you aren’t one of those grumpy shits,” the human muttered, before Vievel’s pause could stretch out to an awkward length. The man slowed the tempo of his rapping knuckles, looking Vievel directly in the eye then turning his gaze downward. He glanced at the fraudulent revolver in Vievel’s hand with hungry eyes, lingering on it for a moment longer than he looked at any other part of Vievel.

After a moment paused between them without anything else being said, Vievel’s curiosity spurred his tongue onward.

“The grumpy shits-” he started, unsure of the word though he’d just heard it spoken. “Do you mean, Dwurkn?” Vievel asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, I suppose that’s what you call them,” the human grunted. “I’ve been calling them names. Not proper of me, but it’s hard to learn names when the only interaction you get with them is one grouchy sod who brings you meals”. Vievel nodded, not particularly paying attention to the man’s words but instead watching his jaw move; as he spoke he flashed slightly-yellowed teeth, with fangs to the side of his thicker primary teeth.

Do humans eat flesh? Vievel watched as the teeth darted beneath the surface of the man’s lower lip; the fangs were similar to Dwurkn teeth. The comparison was unexpected - Dwurkn were so alien that Vievel had never considered any attribute of a Dwurkn could present in another species. Looking over the stranger in front of him he noted that the man shared several things in common with the Dwurka: hair that grew on his face, shoulders so broad they were wider than his hips, and strange bone-coloured sheathes around his fingers.

“‘Spect you were thinking I was somebody else,” he said, grinning toward Vievel. His voice was friendly and relaxed, approachable. As he looked him over Vievel couldn’t help but feel a sort of warmth toward the man. He didn’t seem as dangerous as Vievel had been imagining. Was it not for his peculiarly broad body and short arms Vievel could’ve perhaps mistaken him for an Aelfr.

Definitely didn’t think you were a hu- Vievel stopped, the words falling limp before they reached his tongue.

“You ever met one of us before?” the human asked. He nodded and looked down, gesturing towards himself.

“No,” Vievel answered slowly. “No-one I know has”.

“Lot less of us out this way, past the horizon. I knew a few, but not anymore.” He spoke quickly as he broke eye contact with Vievel, turning his gaze up toward the purple-studded ceiling. A pattern of amethyst stones, each stone smoothly carved in comparison to the rough and raw gems that decorated the cell walls, radiated out from the centre. Following the human’s stare, Vievel noticed the ceiling’s sparkling gems for the first time; the pattern spiralled outward, making tight turns at first then growing wider with each pass until it eventually reached the wall in a long loping arc that broke the spiral’s own gravity. Even excluding the ceiling, the cell was distinctly adorned, especially compared to the plainer chambers and rooms Vievel had seen elsewhere, and the dull uniform corridor outside. The man seemed to agree, staring up at the ceiling for almost a full minute in silence before he spoke again. Throughout the silence Vievel thought of several questions to ask, but he didn’t dare interrupt his concentration. Instead, he kept his flashlight-revolver pointed toward the man, wondering for a time if the stranger was finished speaking with him. The brief pause returned Vievel’s thoughts to his journey home.

“You said you could tell me the way to my home ship,” Vievel said. The human didn’t look down but his fingers stopped drumming on his knees, the delicate melody coming to an abrupt halt.

“That I did,” he said. His voice was low and sharp, suddenly much more threatening than the jovial lilt he’d projected up until moments ago. “You thinkin’ of leaving?” he asked. Vievel shifted uncomfortably, feeling one of the uncut amethyst stones pressing against his back as he did.

“I have to get home. You said you’d tell me how,” he said. Part of Vievel wanted to invite him along, and he wondered if he could convince the man to join him; the implications of a friendly human staggered him, even beyond a possible peace with their race and end to the Aælfir fear of a human return. They could learn much from him, about the pre-horizon, about the human culture, and perhaps even about their weaknesses, if they had any such weaknesses. He could make a powerful ally… but… he could make an even worse enemy. Before he could lose himself to the possibilities a louder part of Vievel begged for sense to prevail; it was a human. If the man decided that he didn’t want to be an ally, well then, to bring such a thing to his people… Vievel fixed his gaze on the gems of the opposite wall, watching the twinkling of reflected light whilst he tried to cut his train of thought off. The visions of what he could do brought a nauseous burning feeling to his chest.

“I opened the door, that was the deal,” Vievel said, swallowing bile. The stranger opposite him looked down from the ceiling suddenly, bringing his eyes to rest on the young Aelfr.

“Say I changed the deal”.