OSSUS, NEAR XANDER'S VESSEL
Quaver noticed the young boy Tino's eyes on him. He felt a bit unnerved. Except for Tandra Kerthian, he had never had any real friends. Back when he had been--well--sane, and in school like a normal eight-year-old child, he was either bullied or ignored by boys and girls alike. They called him an "enu", short for "enuresis", or bedwetting. The trouble was, Quaver had never wet the bed ever since he'd learned to use the toilet--ever. That was the cruel stereotype surrounding pyromaniacs, but Quaver did not fit it in the least. Another stereotype that reigned in regards to people of his type was that they constantly wanted to blow stuff up, or burn stuff down. Even though Quaver loved fire as much as his own life, he loved it even more when it had a purpose. Like scorching sadistic pint-sized bullies' houses to the ground.
A sudden breeze jolted the young boy back to reality--and to Tino's eyes.
"Hey," Quaver said, managing a quick smile and a sigh of relief. "Sorry I was kind of being a space cadet there for a moment. My name's Quaver," he said, not volunteering further information on his own. Any more, he knew, and Tino would instantly be so scared he'd either run away, not talk to him anymore, or even worse, try to kill him. The Force ran strong within Tino's veins...