it might've been a nightmare

a thousand faces staring at me, a thousand times i've fallen

He nods along with Loren, after the comment of marble hits. It did sound nice, it was exactly the reason Glas liked it so much. However, under the compliments of Loren, Glas doesn’t know what to do either. Does he shrink further under the attention? Does he try and preen and prove that he was the one that made them? Well… Neither, really, because he was the one that made them and anyone who asked would know that. So he shrinks a bit more, though a soft smile hints on the corner of his mouth, the one with the scar before it fades with the next question.

The fact that Loren thought the cannibals were a nasty bunch were a relatively huge understatement, in Glas’ mind. But he asks for more details, and Glas begins to fidget again, a foot tapping lightly against the floor, his fingers rubbing at the material the cup for the tea was made out of. “I-It was dark and we were coming back from getting more… Supplies.” He begins, taking a deep inhale. “And I couldn’t pull the sled so my parents… My parents took the sled and I had to look ahead.” And he’d guided them a bit off course too close to Whitebrim.

“There… There were a lot of them and they grabbed… They grabbed me.” He explains, hopefully that would be enough. He was here now, wasn’t he?

a thousand voices dead at my feet

GLAS