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So I really wanna plot Leyla and Astrit. Partly this is because their nations have a history, and partly because their histories look to be sort of similar in some ways and I haven't really gotten many opportunities to plot Astrit with other ex-criminals.

So, plots. I feel like these two ought to at least have met at some point.

“Can’t escape it even out here, huh?” came a voice out of nowhere. Astrit jumped, wincing as his knee hit the table with an almost-musical crash, and quickly tried to cover up his startlement with a bland look. He hadn't heard the other student approaching.

But the other boy was sitting down across the table from him. Astrit recognized him as a classmate--Peter, by name. They had interacted before, as classmates sometimes must, but Astrit hadn't really been in the habit of getting to know his classmates very well since he'd come here. He was more generally inclined to keep his head down and accept that he was very much out of the ordinary among the students here. Even now that Peter seemed to have addressed him directly, with a rather odd comment at that, the redheaded boy didn't want to respond.

Peter was studying his food, so Astrit took the opportunity to study Peter. The first thing that he noticed was that the other boy was dressed in neat, clean clothes that obviously had not seen nearly so much use as his own. Peter had probably gotten his outfit new; no piece of Astrit's had been new since before he was born. Had they traded clothes, though, they might have found a reasonably good fit. Both boys were fairly small and thin.

Much to Astrit's surprise, Peter pushed his lunch across the table and said, “You know, if you want my food too, you can have it. I’m not really that hungry.”

Astrit hesitated for a few moments. He was still hungry, but... "Are you sure?" he asked, half-formed suspicions that there might be some sort of trap in it vaguely coalescing in the back of his mind. He understood sharing food, but why would anyone willingly skip a meal?

Peter had surely never gone hungry, not the way Astrit had. Maybe that was it, or something related to it. Maybe Peter had less fear of going hungry; he probably had something nice to eat waiting for him at home. That could explain things.

Having tentatively settled on an explanation that didn't require anything to be wrong, Astrit moved his empty plate aside and pulled Peter's slowly towards himself, keeping a wary eye out just in case anything happened.

I only got halfway through the animation before my Internet refused to load any more.

But I loved what I saw!

It was lunchtime, and Astrit had something to eat. That was pretty lucky, he thought.

Of course, he was lucky just to be here--something that he was frequently aware of, and something that he was pretty sure most of his classmates didn't notice nearly so much. It was funny how that worked, really. He was aware, most of the time, of how easily he could have ended up... well, basically anywhere but this lunchroom at school.

As usual, he was completely alone with his lunch. Normally he might have had a book, but he'd been tipped off that the food was likely to be messy today, and he would have hated to get strange sauces all over perfectly good reading material. Instead, he mumbled lines from the weirdly hypnotic poem they'd just been discussing in class over and over again.

Those who have crossed
With direct eyes, to death's other kingdom
Remember us--if at all--not as lost
Violent souls, but only
As the hollow men
The stuffed men.

The poetry lent a certain rhythm to everything he did, even if only in his own mind. He doubted that anyone would ever guess that his ravenous consumption of his lunch was happening to the beat of "The Hollow Men." Not that he was entirely sure what he was eating; he hadn't bothered to pay much attention. Most of what mattered to him was that it was edible and therefore useful for keeping him alive. He had a very strong fondness for being fed.

Sightless, unless
The eyes reappear
As the perpetual star
Multifoliate rose
Of death's twilight kingdom
The hope only
Of empty men.

They had discussed what those words meant, peeling apart layers of religious symbolism, most of which Astrit had personally never heard of before. "Multifoliate rose" was an allusion to... well, some major Christian figure. Or several; the conversation had gotten a little complicated at that point. "Death's twilight kingdom" was easier, though they had had a bit of a spirited discussion of which kingdom, exactly, that meant. The poem was pretty unambiguously set in hell among "hollow men," that much was easily agreed by everyone with even the most cursory knowledge of the subject, but some classmates argued that this "twilight kingdom" was heaven where this perpetual star was coming from, and others rejoined that it must be the dark kingdom that needed the light. Astrit himself had been in the latter camp, but he did not say so. He could have deep thoughts all he wanted, but there was no need for anyone to know as much.

"The eyes are not here
There are no eyes here
In this valley of dying stars..."

He didn't even realize that he was reciting that slightly earlier passage aloud under his breath, every crumb of his lunch having been consumed. He was too busy circling through the poem, stanzas at random, catching pieces and admiring them in his own private thoughts. The dying stars were contrasted just short lines later by the "perpetual star" surrounded by religious imagery. Light meant hope, but in this poem it was The hope only/Of empty men.

Very dark, but there was something alluring about this kind of darkness when Astrit thought of it in the privacy of his own mind.

In Aylesbury Estate, Astrit has a cat now. Mornings are cool.

And in Vauxhall, Feliks is going to sing in Polish no matter how many people look at him funny.

Art by Icy is all the time so beautiful... Koko cannot draw, but Koko will write pretty stories (drabbles, maybe even poems if Koko can remember how rhythm works) in exchange for maybe a picture of Astrit who only has one picture of him at all?

The funny thing about Vesna's advice was that it almost didn't surprise Astrit--or maybe that was a funny thing about Astrit. It seemed like normal and reasonable advice to him, and the only odd thing was that it was coming out of Vesna's mouth. She seemed so mild-mannered, not the sort of person he would usually expect to advise defending one's food by force.

"I don't think they'd want my lunch," he admitted. "They've all got lunches of their own, and I haven't seen anyone try to steal anyone else's yet. I don't think that's done at a fancy place like my school." It felt odd to say that. He still wasn't used to associating himself with such a place.

For most of his life, he had never really thought of himself as all that lucky, except when he observed that it was amazing that he had lived this long. Astrit was a child who had never really had a chance, barring an outright miracle.

And he had gotten his miracle, a whole string of miracles. Suddenly, he could be young again. He could have a few years' break from trying to run every piece of his own life without any help, because--miraculously--somebody cared about him. Struggling to keep up at his new school... was really not all that bad, by comparison. That was the sort of challenge that actually suited his age and temperament.

And here was his neighbour, offering him food and free advice on how to defend it from anyone who wanted to take it from him. Astrit was lucky, perhaps outrageously so.

Vesna saying that she had no interest in his gratitude definitely did surprise him. Her idea of what "just doing the right thing" looked like seemed to stretch awfully far. Dinner, even? Astrit was certainly always on the lookout for dinner, but so much generosity!

It was a foregone conclusion what he would do about that, really. It would be ridiculous to think that a boy of his age, means, and nature would refuse an offer of dinner.

With an impish smile, he noted, "I expect I'll see you later, Vesna." The door of the bus opened, and Astrit set out toward it. Just before he boarded, he turned to wave goodbye. Then he climbed on board the bus that would take him to school.