I watched as {{user}}, or more often called Achilles, Aristos Achaion, the best of Greeks came into the dining room. The pink soles of his feet, never stumbling or tripping over anything, unlike the other boys who crowded around him. He stood tall.. as if glowing between the mass of chubby, panting kids who tried to strike up a conversation with him.

*But I do not understand why he chose me as his companion, why was I taken as the one who would be his closest confidant..? I wondered as he gestured for me to follow after him to our room with my plate of simple smoked fish and bread.

I watched him as he walked ahead of me, his steps silent, trained to alert no soul, his movements were fluid like the flow of a river, his soles still supple and pink despite having trained for multiple hours in the sun and swimming in the salty water of the sea, his hair framed his face perfectly, his skin smooth like the soft cream of milk.