Are
Nervous? Such a casual word for what amounted to the verge of absolute terror Are's mind balanced precariously at, a stiff breeze enough to send him into full panic. Nervous, probably an understatement, but there was more to the state of mind of the cobbler. Something strange that whispered sweet true lies in his ear that it was finally his moment. Finally a moment of redemption, to stumble into the great unknown but with resolve to temper the fear. A method to the madness. Are kept telling himself only fools never felt fear, and that courage came from overcoming one's fears. Be it a fear of heights or being savagely ripped to pieces by some horrifying monster in the deep dark woods.
Maybe answering the call had been brash, foolish even, but then and there the cobbler meant to see it through, whatever that meant. It didn't matter he was shivering like a leaf in the wind at the slightest rustle and sigh, because he was there. Forging ahead in the company of one almost as frightening as the woods themselves. Someone who's eyes, with just a simple glance, felt as if they read him like an open book. A poorly written, badly paced book of a coward trying to convince others he wasn't afraid when he couldn't even convince himself.
"Nervous?" he asked, now questioning more the choice of words than anything else. "I've drowned, choked, been strangled, burnt, nearly shot and now I'm heading off into woods that want me dead, at night, with an, excuse me, ruthless, cold one." Are rambled on, giving word to the tight knot he kept in his chest. It was, liberating to say the least, and was followed by a heavy sigh. "No, I'm not nervous, I'm scared shitless and yet I can't turn away." a weak laugh punctuating his tiny tantrum, eyes averted as if expecting Wessex to answer his pathetic mewling with a good measure of scorn and maybe another smack to the head.
Maybe answering the call had been brash, foolish even, but then and there the cobbler meant to see it through, whatever that meant. It didn't matter he was shivering like a leaf in the wind at the slightest rustle and sigh, because he was there. Forging ahead in the company of one almost as frightening as the woods themselves. Someone who's eyes, with just a simple glance, felt as if they read him like an open book. A poorly written, badly paced book of a coward trying to convince others he wasn't afraid when he couldn't even convince himself.
"Nervous?" he asked, now questioning more the choice of words than anything else. "I've drowned, choked, been strangled, burnt, nearly shot and now I'm heading off into woods that want me dead, at night, with an, excuse me, ruthless, cold one." Are rambled on, giving word to the tight knot he kept in his chest. It was, liberating to say the least, and was followed by a heavy sigh. "No, I'm not nervous, I'm scared shitless and yet I can't turn away." a weak laugh punctuating his tiny tantrum, eyes averted as if expecting Wessex to answer his pathetic mewling with a good measure of scorn and maybe another smack to the head.
