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Meshenna
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WHY ARE YOU SO FULL OF RAGE ? ____
— The hot Mesopotamian sun beat down on his pale honeyed skin as he sat bare-chested on the grass mat outside the thatch hut that meshenna currently called home. A small child with dark hair and hazel eyes climbed on his lap, her little fingers reaching out to touch his ashen hair that was so different from her own. He smiled at her, grabbing her by the waist and tossing her in the air, grinning as she squealed in delight. His body held the lean tautness of youth, though he was not young by human standards. The lustful eyes of many villagers often watched him, but he was used to it. Humans were drawn to him—at least, at first—until his differences became too noticeable. He'd been forced to leave many villages in the past when he didn't age like everyone else and the villagers became alarmed. He liked to be around them, though, to feel their emotions and passions. Especially the children, who were more accepting of him and whose emotions were simple and less corruptible. It soothed him somehow.
