Caden
Caden shakes his head, immediately dismissing the notion of intrusion. "Not at all, I appreciate the company. Besides, I'm used to sharing with travelers." Being a nomad himself and raised by a man who had impressed the importance of it, Caden is more than accustomed to caravans, communes, and hostels as well as random passersby hoping for temporary safety in numbers.
Her blush makes him smile, privately pleased even though he hadn't intended such a reaction. He doesn't try to hide it from her. He may not be a flirtatious young man, but he is very honest with his own emotions. It seems she may be as well given the boldness of her wink, which makes Caden laugh freely, tension dissipating. "Well you're in luck then; creativity is something you can build. Meanwhile, the only thing I can change is what object to juggle." He winks back at her, using his magic to levitate the spit into his hand to begin skewering the meat onto it to go over the fire. It gives him something to do while the gravity of his pending answer dawns on him.
"Nowhere really. My parents died when I was nine, and my uncle raised me as a wanderer. But if you're asking about the barrier, we were outside of it." He'd been grateful for that when it fell and all the Grounders fled from their previous prison, bearing tales of stagnancy and starvation as the fields grew bleaker with each year that made Caden's heart bleed. "What about you?"
Her blush makes him smile, privately pleased even though he hadn't intended such a reaction. He doesn't try to hide it from her. He may not be a flirtatious young man, but he is very honest with his own emotions. It seems she may be as well given the boldness of her wink, which makes Caden laugh freely, tension dissipating. "Well you're in luck then; creativity is something you can build. Meanwhile, the only thing I can change is what object to juggle." He winks back at her, using his magic to levitate the spit into his hand to begin skewering the meat onto it to go over the fire. It gives him something to do while the gravity of his pending answer dawns on him.
"Nowhere really. My parents died when I was nine, and my uncle raised me as a wanderer. But if you're asking about the barrier, we were outside of it." He'd been grateful for that when it fell and all the Grounders fled from their previous prison, bearing tales of stagnancy and starvation as the fields grew bleaker with each year that made Caden's heart bleed. "What about you?"
Though I know my heart will break
I'd still tell the surgeon to put it back in
I'd still tell the surgeon to put it back in
