DELPHIA
Delphia took a meandering path through the streets of the settlement, following unseen spirits through a winding path that ended at the market place. When the woman called out to her she approached, but her steely gaze was distant, distracted. ”Yes, I am looking for furnishings for the school being built.” she said absentmindedly, only half-paying attention to the woman as she made her requests for a trade. Instead, the daughter of Mort was watching an uncollected soul flutter about. Protective. Settled. Not lost, but waiting. Her expression fell into a warm smile. How nice of him.
”Your husband has died, yes? A lung disease with chills a few Deepfrosts ago… Geralt he says his name is.” Delphia said softly, looking back at the woman. ”He wonders why your son is not seeing to your care – your wood and your paints.” she said, head tilting to the side slightly.
Delphia is distracted by the dead people. Classic.
”Your husband has died, yes? A lung disease with chills a few Deepfrosts ago… Geralt he says his name is.” Delphia said softly, looking back at the woman. ”He wonders why your son is not seeing to your care – your wood and your paints.” she said, head tilting to the side slightly.
Delphia is distracted by the dead people. Classic.
I hope you're proud of me, dad
