Leviathan Mori of District 6 [WIP]

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"So tell me, Levi, how would you describe yourself?"

He shuffles nervously. The words come to the tip of his tongue but he can't muster the strength to push them out. Reaching out to his left, he slowly gathers everything slowly - eraser, pencil with lead hardly sharpened, and small pad of paper. You nod encouragingly, as they warned you he might feel more comfortable by drawing out his emotions. Slowly, as if hesitant and unsure of your gesture, he begins, each effort pronounced on his face. You suppress the urge to giggle as he pokes his tongue out and erases something that obviously displeased him. You're amazed at how calm he's being. You've heard of children with autism being untamed beasts but this one... He seems quite the opposite. Somebody slams the door somewhere and you notice him flinch and momentarily stop, lifting his hands as if to cover his ears. You reach out to comfort him but stop yourself in the nick of time - hadn't they said something about him not reacting well to contact? So you lean back in your chair, tipping it back, and watch him as he continues his efforts at drawing.

Eventually he lowers his utensils and shyly hands you his art. You take it, expressing care not to touch his hands. He's still avoiding eye contact, despite his parents assurance that you were safe to trust. You examine it. He's thirteen yet his drawings are that of a four year old. If that... Pulling your glasses over your head, the first drawing shows a young boy sitting in a corner while all the other stick figures are congregated in the center, apparently conversing loudly because of the exclamation marks surrounding them and the corner boy covering his ears. Lifting only your eyes, you ask him, "Do you feel lonely, Leviathan?" You had read somewhere addressing them directly seemed to yield better results though you haven't a clue whether that is reliable. He nods quickly and begins to tap his feet in a smooth pattern. Left, left, left, right, left, left, left, right. You notice him slip once on counting and suddenly his face turns a deep shade of red and his fists clench. "How about another picture? Just one more?" This time he wastes no times and feverishly scribbles.

He shows you it directly now, yet still maintains the pact of no eye contact. You immediatly infer what the scribbles in red mean - anger. You are hesitant to end this conversation, as you'd love to get into the deeper details of his mind, but you do as the hour hand of your click finally reaches ten 'o clock. His hour is up and his parents would be expecting him by now, of course. "Leviathan, we're done for today. Thank you for drawing these for me. Do you want them back?" He shakes his head in a defiant no and hastily walks out, not bothering to say bye. You aren't troubled by this. His parents poke their head in and say sorry in unison, as if they've been through this a few times. They leave, leaving you standing before your bookcase. Your eyes flit across a particular book. You pick it up and begin to read, as you want to educate yourself on autism further for the boy.

---

"I... I do excel at a few things. Dabble at them, really."

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"I feel as if my flaws always, you know, come out more."

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Overall Personality:

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